This afternoon, the children, the boys especially, having made it through the morning without being placed up for adoption (and let me tell you, between the hours of 10:00 am and 1:00pm, I was investigating the legality of that option), decided to open a restaurant downstairs. It was the most amazing synergy I have seen from the boys in a long time. Brandon was the manager. Jon and Noah were the employees.
The bar was set nicely with paper plates and napkins. The area was completely (and to my utter amazement) cleared of accumulated toys and clutter. It was even..washed off..miracle of miracles. I took my place at the bar to be served; there was no consensus as to what number customer I actually was ever reached, as they were unsure whether or not to count themselves as customers. I was rapidly served a 7up and a Nutrigrain bar.
After I completed my meal, I participated in a "promotion" that was going on at the restaurant: I had to try to throw mini stuffed animals through a basketball hoop that Jonathon was moving up and down and around. The explanation offered to me for this event: The management is constantly working on things to keep their place entertaining and fun because they do not want their customers to be bored. They are working towards becoming a sports bar, but since they are not allowed to have the TV on in the afternoons, options are currently limited and they are focusing on promotions.
Once I was done with my promotion, which, I failed miserably at, by the way, I went upstairs. I was soon followed by Noah, who informed me that he had been fired by Brandon. Brandon was quickly up the stairs too, explaining to his brother, "I am not going to pay someone to lay around and sit on the couch all day. Jon's working, so Jon gets paid. That's final."
Noah wasn't keen on being unemployed and left out of the family business, so I convinced Brandon to hire him back as a bathroom cleaner; after all, who wants to go out to eat at a place with skeevy bathrooms? So, Noah, cleaning supplies in hand, was gainfully employed again, Brandon was happy, and my downstairs bathroom was clean.
One of the most interesting parts of this story is trying to explain how Brandon managed everything, including his brothers; firing Noah was just one example. When Jonathon became disgruntled with his "lowly" position, Brandon said, "I'll tell you what Jonathon, you can earn higher levels, all the way up to 10. You are level one right now. You can earn level 2 by not bothering Noah for twenty minutes. I will go upstairs and set the timer right now." AND Jon agreed. And was proud of himself for accomplishing level two. Jon also reached level 3 when he did not bother Lauren for twenty minutes, although this happened later in the running of the business.
There was also the constructing and the making of the sign and menu, which Brandon also oversaw, and took intense concentration and cooperation by all three boys. Both the sign and menu welcome everyone to "Brandon's Buffet" as they walk into the downstairs family room. After the sign making, Lauren and a friend were brought into the family business. Sadly, the friend had to go home, but after she left an area was set up behind my couch for "employees only." This is where the owners brainstorm on ideas on how to grow their business, keep customers, run their business more efficiently, and what kind of food to offer. Again, Brandon is what is known as "the lead" in the industry during these meetings.
After two hours of running a business, Brandon found out even an owner/manager needs sustenance to maintain his energy and came upstairs in search of the ever popular PB&J. He asked me to make it for him as he was hustling two ice teas downstairs to his employee meeting. When I asked him why I had to do it now that he owned his own restaurant, this was his response: "I am very busy now. Besides, you spread the jelly faster and you just make them better."
Brandon even managed to melt me enough to make him a PB&J.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
A not so random act of kindness
The last week of school was, to say the very least, busy. Crazy busy. The kind of busy where your home is the just place you drop off all your stuff because, wisely, no one else will allow that amount of crap into their household. After you drop your stuff, you lay your head on pillow, sleep, wakeup, change your clothes, pick up new crap, and leave. Well, repeat this for four days times four kids who do not hold cleanliness next to godliness, minus one husband, plus two extra kids, and you can only imagine how un-Better-Homes-and-Garden-like the house looked on Friday morning.
However, there was simple act of kindness my children were going to perform that day before we left for Jon's soccer game and Lauren left for her sleepover, even if it killed me. They were going to do it even if I had to take away every privilege they had ever earned, short of me taking away the air they breathed. My children were going to clean the family room so their father, my husband, could watch Game 7 of the Stanley Cup without risk of breaking his leg when he jumped up to yell at the TV.
Now, considering the mess was primarily that of the kids, this was not an unreasonable request/do it or watch your mother go over the edge demand. Also considering that I was primarily responsible for shuttling them all over Stevens Point, chaperoning their field trips, feeding them, and giving birth to them, that family room was going to be presentable because: "I SAID SO, SO LET'S GO!" (For the curious, that is a direct quote.) The kids were not happy. I was even unhappier; as my kids have come to realize when Mom swallows her "cranky pills" it's best to just ride out the storm and do what they are told to do.
I left Rich a voice mail telling the rest of the house was trashed BUT he had a very clean space in which to watch the game; enjoy. He was thrilled even if the kids were perplexed by how weird and "unfair" it was to get a room ready just for Dad.
Well, if they were confused and disoriented by that amount of housekeeping, I have bad news for them on Monday morning! It is going to be all hands on deck, all units reporting, and a full clean sweep of the Tolbert household. I promise any screams you hear from this house will be from me and not the from the children, as they will be too busy inventing excuses to get out of work to muster up the energy to scream.
However, there was simple act of kindness my children were going to perform that day before we left for Jon's soccer game and Lauren left for her sleepover, even if it killed me. They were going to do it even if I had to take away every privilege they had ever earned, short of me taking away the air they breathed. My children were going to clean the family room so their father, my husband, could watch Game 7 of the Stanley Cup without risk of breaking his leg when he jumped up to yell at the TV.
Now, considering the mess was primarily that of the kids, this was not an unreasonable request/do it or watch your mother go over the edge demand. Also considering that I was primarily responsible for shuttling them all over Stevens Point, chaperoning their field trips, feeding them, and giving birth to them, that family room was going to be presentable because: "I SAID SO, SO LET'S GO!" (For the curious, that is a direct quote.) The kids were not happy. I was even unhappier; as my kids have come to realize when Mom swallows her "cranky pills" it's best to just ride out the storm and do what they are told to do.
I left Rich a voice mail telling the rest of the house was trashed BUT he had a very clean space in which to watch the game; enjoy. He was thrilled even if the kids were perplexed by how weird and "unfair" it was to get a room ready just for Dad.
Well, if they were confused and disoriented by that amount of housekeeping, I have bad news for them on Monday morning! It is going to be all hands on deck, all units reporting, and a full clean sweep of the Tolbert household. I promise any screams you hear from this house will be from me and not the from the children, as they will be too busy inventing excuses to get out of work to muster up the energy to scream.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Sports Mom
School is out for the summer and everyone keeps asking me what our "plans" are for the 82 days that consist of the kids vacation. Other than shuttling kids to soccer, baseball, play dates, and one trip to South Dakota, I really have no idea. Honestly, I am so not that mom. I want to be that mom with the crafts and arts projects, days planned to the beach, trips planned to the park, and healthy snacks ready to go, but I am more of the mom who wakes up and says, "Wow, it's not raining, everyone out of their pajamas so we can go to the park...and don't forget the water because I am too cheap to buy soda!"
The kids are attending summer school because they begged me to enroll them in it and made me fill out the papers. Noah felt like I robbed him out of a life experience by not letting him attend summer school last year. Lauren is just excited that she is a 5K girl (kindergartner) now and will be going to Washington School with her brothers. She is going to be a nut all summer asking me about the first day of school. She already thinks I am lying to her about the fact there is no school for a week. (Wait until middle school Lauren, just wait.)
Jonathon is playing competitive soccer again this year. He plays for a traveling team and I cannot believe the schedule my son has this week. In addition to a Tuesday and Thursday game, it is a tournament weekend, so he will play three games this weekend, with the possibility of two more for the championship. What amazes me is Jonathon, and all the boys on the team for that matter, come fully prepared to play the five games. I know it is an obvious thing to say, I mean, who comes to a sporting event prepared to lose, but it is amazing to watch these 10 and 11 year boys working their tails off, hustling after a soccer ball, listening to directions from coaches, advice from the sidelines, remembering what to do, giving it their all, for FIVE games in three days, in the rain, in the cold, in the sun, and even in the sleet or snow.
(I will say that soccer is something that Jonathon (unlike me) WANTS to do and is not forced to do, so I am sure that makes a huge difference in his attitude.)
Noah and Brandon have tried soccer and they, well, to sum up Noah's feelings about the sport in the middle of the field with all the parents watching my kid, "I HATE SOCCER!" They come to Jon's games, along with Lauren, and roam the fields with other siblings like a band of soccer orphans. For an hour this band of gypsy children are told very supportive phrases like, "Go in the van and play your DS!" or "Sit behind the chairs!" or "Go play in the empty field with the other kids, stop pestering me so I can watch your brothers game!" Sometimes, during very intense games, we as parents buy them off at half time with junk food from the concession stand if it is open. We aren't proud: We are soccer parents and hockey parents have nothing on us when it comes to craziness, fanaticism, or the lengths of the states we are willing to travel to allow our kids the opportunity to compete.
Noah and Brandon participate in baseball and T-all respectively. Noah enjoys baseball because he is with his friend James; he is not a competitive sports person. Time will tell if he will ever have that "spark" or if other passions will take over his life. Brandon is crazy athletic. He is like every six year old on the team: One minute spot on, running, fielding, perfect form, and the next drawing in the dirt, looking at an airplane in the sky, or waving to me. Really, they should pay parents to let their kids participate in T-ball.
Lauren is our dancer. When Lauren dances it is like every day is Christmas for her and the world stops turning. I cannot believe how much one dance class once a week brought Lauren out of her shell. She pillaes (sp?), ballerina jumps, and padashas all over the house. Her special dance leotards hang in my closet so they don't "get junky (her words)." I signed her up for Jazz to go along with Ballet next year and she is out of her mind excited for that to start too.
So, the kids are growing and leading active lives. It is one sport per child per season and that barely saves on sanity. Fortunately, we have some incredibly awesome friends on the boys' teams that are willing to help us out with carpooling and surrogate parenting when Rich is out of town and I cannot morph to be two places at once.
Sorry, I have to end this post. I think it's my night to bring snack.
The kids are attending summer school because they begged me to enroll them in it and made me fill out the papers. Noah felt like I robbed him out of a life experience by not letting him attend summer school last year. Lauren is just excited that she is a 5K girl (kindergartner) now and will be going to Washington School with her brothers. She is going to be a nut all summer asking me about the first day of school. She already thinks I am lying to her about the fact there is no school for a week. (Wait until middle school Lauren, just wait.)
Jonathon is playing competitive soccer again this year. He plays for a traveling team and I cannot believe the schedule my son has this week. In addition to a Tuesday and Thursday game, it is a tournament weekend, so he will play three games this weekend, with the possibility of two more for the championship. What amazes me is Jonathon, and all the boys on the team for that matter, come fully prepared to play the five games. I know it is an obvious thing to say, I mean, who comes to a sporting event prepared to lose, but it is amazing to watch these 10 and 11 year boys working their tails off, hustling after a soccer ball, listening to directions from coaches, advice from the sidelines, remembering what to do, giving it their all, for FIVE games in three days, in the rain, in the cold, in the sun, and even in the sleet or snow.
(I will say that soccer is something that Jonathon (unlike me) WANTS to do and is not forced to do, so I am sure that makes a huge difference in his attitude.)
Noah and Brandon have tried soccer and they, well, to sum up Noah's feelings about the sport in the middle of the field with all the parents watching my kid, "I HATE SOCCER!" They come to Jon's games, along with Lauren, and roam the fields with other siblings like a band of soccer orphans. For an hour this band of gypsy children are told very supportive phrases like, "Go in the van and play your DS!" or "Sit behind the chairs!" or "Go play in the empty field with the other kids, stop pestering me so I can watch your brothers game!" Sometimes, during very intense games, we as parents buy them off at half time with junk food from the concession stand if it is open. We aren't proud: We are soccer parents and hockey parents have nothing on us when it comes to craziness, fanaticism, or the lengths of the states we are willing to travel to allow our kids the opportunity to compete.
Noah and Brandon participate in baseball and T-all respectively. Noah enjoys baseball because he is with his friend James; he is not a competitive sports person. Time will tell if he will ever have that "spark" or if other passions will take over his life. Brandon is crazy athletic. He is like every six year old on the team: One minute spot on, running, fielding, perfect form, and the next drawing in the dirt, looking at an airplane in the sky, or waving to me. Really, they should pay parents to let their kids participate in T-ball.
Lauren is our dancer. When Lauren dances it is like every day is Christmas for her and the world stops turning. I cannot believe how much one dance class once a week brought Lauren out of her shell. She pillaes (sp?), ballerina jumps, and padashas all over the house. Her special dance leotards hang in my closet so they don't "get junky (her words)." I signed her up for Jazz to go along with Ballet next year and she is out of her mind excited for that to start too.
So, the kids are growing and leading active lives. It is one sport per child per season and that barely saves on sanity. Fortunately, we have some incredibly awesome friends on the boys' teams that are willing to help us out with carpooling and surrogate parenting when Rich is out of town and I cannot morph to be two places at once.
Sorry, I have to end this post. I think it's my night to bring snack.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
The Perfect Mom
I often wonder which elements my children's "perfect mother" would consist of. Would she keep her house perfectly clean, always be there to have the perfect homework answer, give just the right answer to the most challenging of questions, prepare home cooked meals of only the nutritious, well-balanced variety, but make sure to throw in a good fast food meal once in a while so her children do not feel deprived? Also, would she create in her children a good work ethic without them realizing that she was doing it, without them giving her nary an arguement, balancing their material wants with their emotional needs so they all turn out to be emotionally well adjusted adults?
Oh wait, that's my fantasy mother, not my children's. My kids fantasy mother would consist of someone who lets them eat donuts for every meal, wash it down with soda, buys them iPods, an Xbox 360, complete with Halo (unless you are Lauren then you are holding out for Polly Pocket stuff), gives them unlimited screen time on school nights, and a mom that does not, under any circumstance, "waste your good time at church (Jonathon Tolbert)."
In my desperate momements of mommmy insanity, when it feels like I am the only one on the mommy crazy train of over scheduled lives that have too many kids that need to go too many places, I want to grab one of those precious children, force them to look me in the eye, and tell them, "Do you understand that I am doing this for you? I don't need to sit at T-ball/soccer/dance/school to be a better person. I am doing this because I love you and this is important to you!" However, I refrain; it is pointless for two of us be close to a breakdown.
In my darkest moments of mommy wallowing, I wonder to myself, okay, and sometimes to Rich, "Does this even make a difference? Will these kids appreciate it? Do they care about all the schedule arranging, all the things Rich and I give up and rearrange for them? Will they turn out to be decent adults that do not live at home with us well into their forties?" I have faith they my children will turn out just fine because
In my greatest momements of mommy joy, I see and share the laughter and wonder on my childrens faces. We have some marvelous times together as a family. We laugh so hard we have tears coming out of eyes at jokes that will only make sense to us. I watch Jonathon teach his sister soccer or him read Brandon a chapter of Junie B. Jones. I listen to Noah and Brandon quote inappropriate movies lines to each other when they think I am not listening. I watch Brandon carry Lauren's dolls. I see Lauren play army and monster with her brothers. I notice Richard tuck his children into bed and read them stories every night that he is home and by countless examples, teach his children to be decent people in this world.
In my faith filled moments, I know I fall far short of being the perfect mom. That's okay. I know I never will be that mom who has the clean house, has the perfect answer all the time, or always has the meal waiting in the crockpot. I am however, the mom that loves her children beyond measure and strives to show them that in my words and actions.
Oh wait, that's my fantasy mother, not my children's. My kids fantasy mother would consist of someone who lets them eat donuts for every meal, wash it down with soda, buys them iPods, an Xbox 360, complete with Halo (unless you are Lauren then you are holding out for Polly Pocket stuff), gives them unlimited screen time on school nights, and a mom that does not, under any circumstance, "waste your good time at church (Jonathon Tolbert)."
In my desperate momements of mommmy insanity, when it feels like I am the only one on the mommy crazy train of over scheduled lives that have too many kids that need to go too many places, I want to grab one of those precious children, force them to look me in the eye, and tell them, "Do you understand that I am doing this for you? I don't need to sit at T-ball/soccer/dance/school to be a better person. I am doing this because I love you and this is important to you!" However, I refrain; it is pointless for two of us be close to a breakdown.
In my darkest moments of mommy wallowing, I wonder to myself, okay, and sometimes to Rich, "Does this even make a difference? Will these kids appreciate it? Do they care about all the schedule arranging, all the things Rich and I give up and rearrange for them? Will they turn out to be decent adults that do not live at home with us well into their forties?" I have faith they my children will turn out just fine because
In my greatest momements of mommy joy, I see and share the laughter and wonder on my childrens faces. We have some marvelous times together as a family. We laugh so hard we have tears coming out of eyes at jokes that will only make sense to us. I watch Jonathon teach his sister soccer or him read Brandon a chapter of Junie B. Jones. I listen to Noah and Brandon quote inappropriate movies lines to each other when they think I am not listening. I watch Brandon carry Lauren's dolls. I see Lauren play army and monster with her brothers. I notice Richard tuck his children into bed and read them stories every night that he is home and by countless examples, teach his children to be decent people in this world.
In my faith filled moments, I know I fall far short of being the perfect mom. That's okay. I know I never will be that mom who has the clean house, has the perfect answer all the time, or always has the meal waiting in the crockpot. I am however, the mom that loves her children beyond measure and strives to show them that in my words and actions.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
You Just Have To Let Me Go
Tuesday was kindergarten preview day at our school. For the price of your child the school takes your four year old for two nerve (yours and the teachers) racking hours, and lets your child "preview" kindergarten. Lauren was so excited to attend this event. She picked out her clothes the previous night. Painstakingly, she decided upon a pair of jeans and an orange, long-sleeved, Halloween shirt, with the requisite "Christmas ghosts" on it. The outfit was completed by adding her ruby red sparkly shoes as the footwear of choice.
As a mother of four children I have learned that the first child goes to preview day in matching clothes. The fourth child goes to preview day clean and dressed appropriately for the weather; matching clothes are just a bonus.
Well, the morning of big day, I climbed into Lauren's bed to in order to wake her up (she was already awake, but I climbed in anyway). The following is a transcript of the conversation in which she and I engaged:
Me (all mopey,laying next to Lauren):"New little girl that I bought for $2.00 at the store (another game we play), I just can't let you go to kindergarten preview day. I will just miss you too much."
Lauren (cute and cuddly, warm from sleep, looking at me with her big blue eyes): "New mommy, you just have to let me go. I am ready. I can't stay here. I'll give you some extra cuddlebugs* so you won't be sad."
Lauren: "Cuddlebug, Cuddlebug, Cuddlebug. There now put on your happy face and get out of my way. I need to get ready for school."
Me, laying on the bed, silent, stunned while Lauren put on her Halloween shirt.
So, I hauled my numb self up off the bed and shook myself out my "my baby is going to kindergarten" stupor. Of course, Lauren went to school with no trauma, had a fantastic time, was adored by the teachers, and upon picking her up, I was told by Mrs. J., that:
"Lauren has a fantastic imagination! She stood in the kitchen area, holding a baby doll, dialing the phone, and then ordered a pizza! She didn't even drop the baby! She looked at her little baby and said, 'Hold on sweetie, Mommy's ordering pizza!' What a sweetie!"
I told Mrs. J that Lauren was probably just imitating what she learned at home because her mother has an over scheduled life with four kids. It's probably a good thing I don't drop babies when dialing though!
So, beginning in the fall, I will have another child attending school for a full day.
Sometimes the hardest part of being a mom is waving goodbye through the tears and just trusting them when say "Mommy,you just have to let me go."
*Cuddlebug: Excessive hugging while saying the word "cuddlebug." Much gentler than a bearhug.
As a mother of four children I have learned that the first child goes to preview day in matching clothes. The fourth child goes to preview day clean and dressed appropriately for the weather; matching clothes are just a bonus.
Well, the morning of big day, I climbed into Lauren's bed to in order to wake her up (she was already awake, but I climbed in anyway). The following is a transcript of the conversation in which she and I engaged:
Me (all mopey,laying next to Lauren):"New little girl that I bought for $2.00 at the store (another game we play), I just can't let you go to kindergarten preview day. I will just miss you too much."
Lauren (cute and cuddly, warm from sleep, looking at me with her big blue eyes): "New mommy, you just have to let me go. I am ready. I can't stay here. I'll give you some extra cuddlebugs* so you won't be sad."
Lauren: "Cuddlebug, Cuddlebug, Cuddlebug. There now put on your happy face and get out of my way. I need to get ready for school."
Me, laying on the bed, silent, stunned while Lauren put on her Halloween shirt.
So, I hauled my numb self up off the bed and shook myself out my "my baby is going to kindergarten" stupor. Of course, Lauren went to school with no trauma, had a fantastic time, was adored by the teachers, and upon picking her up, I was told by Mrs. J., that:
"Lauren has a fantastic imagination! She stood in the kitchen area, holding a baby doll, dialing the phone, and then ordered a pizza! She didn't even drop the baby! She looked at her little baby and said, 'Hold on sweetie, Mommy's ordering pizza!' What a sweetie!"
I told Mrs. J that Lauren was probably just imitating what she learned at home because her mother has an over scheduled life with four kids. It's probably a good thing I don't drop babies when dialing though!
So, beginning in the fall, I will have another child attending school for a full day.
Sometimes the hardest part of being a mom is waving goodbye through the tears and just trusting them when say "Mommy,you just have to let me go."
*Cuddlebug: Excessive hugging while saying the word "cuddlebug." Much gentler than a bearhug.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Shout Outs and Silent Screams
First the shout outs:
On June 7, 2008, my friend Kimberly, my sister-in-law Rachel, and myself, completed a walking half marathon, which is 13 miles long. The first three miles were great fun. The next three miles were okay fun. Miles seven, eight, nine, and ten involved alot of questions about sanity and "Whose idea was this anyway?" The last three miles involved jokes that weren't funny unless you walked the first ten miles (and probably still aren't funny unless you are Kimberly or Rachel), lots of swearing, and sheer determination to finish. But finish we did. So we get a shout out.
My mom gets a shout out because she drove to Stevens Point, like she does every June, to make sure Noah received his birthday present on his birthday. Then she took Brandon and Lauren home with her overnight so I could get more packing done in this house. It is amazing what you can get done when the things you put in the box stay in the box. Double shout out to my Mom.
Jonathon's soccer coach, October, watched all four kids for Rich and I while we did the final walk through on the house. As if that wasn't enough, she then calls my cell phone and says, "I'll keep the kids and order pizza, you and Rich go out to dinner and celebrate." I don't know if there is a big enough microphone in world, but a shout out definitely goes out to October.
Jill, Don, and Kathryn, all watched the kids during different processes of Rich and I meeting with the realtor and the banker, and listened to me ummm....vent...because that is a better word than whine or complain...so they get a shout out too. Which means Sara gets one because she always listens to me ummm...vent...
So, now that I've thanked the academy, this past week has been so dang crazy that I was three steps away from taking the down payment for the house and buying a one way ticket to the Bahamas. Tuesday is a perfect example of why I felt so strongly about doing it. Rich was out of town (of course he was), so I dropped Jon off at soccer, drove across town to drop Noah off at baseball, drove back to pick up Jonathon, and on the way to watch Noah's game, ended up missing most it, much to Noah's great disappointment. To make matters worse, on final trip to watch Noah become an all star hitter, Brandon started screaming at the top of his lungs that he was hungry.
Granted, I had promised I would run through McDonald's drive-thru, but I had to get back to Noah's game because Jon's practice ran late and Lauren had a potty emergency that I had to take care of while at the soccer field. The whole time Brandon was screaming and crying, I was trying to reason with him that I would take care of it just not immediately, so he needed to "STOP IT!"
but I understood, he was tired and hungry NOW, just like I was, just like his brothers and sister, and it was late, and after I said, "That's enough Brandon!!" 47 times to no avail, I said, "I know Buddy, but I can't fix it until I get Noah, I can't leave Noah alone. I am trying and it has to be enough. I just can't make it better right now. I'm sorry you're just going to have to be upset." And I felt awful because I know what hungry and overtired and stressed out feel like; it has to be worse when you are five.
Truthfully, I would have given anything to be the one to trade places with Brandon, to be the one melting down in the back seat while someone drove me safely to where ever I needed to be, instead of the one silently screaming on the inside, in charge of getting dinner and a reasonably sane bedtime routine together, three nights before I was getting ready to close on my first house while packing everything in the other house. As strange as it sounds, in that moment, I was jealous of Brandon's ability to let it all go at the seams, since I knew that night as a mom was a bust, and the it would have been a welcome release of pent up emotion.
I had too many things to do, too many places to be at one time, and not enough "me" to be doing all of them at them once. However, like all the moms before me, the ones with me in the trenches, and the ones yet to be moms, I drove through it (literally): I drove through McDonald's (like I wouldn't after a night like that), fed everyone at home so we didn't risk a public scene, skipped baths (dirt was not a concern by this point), kissed everyone goodnight, and breathed a sigh of relief when my head hit the pillow.
The next day Noah asked me about missing most of his game. I was honest with him and told him what happened. He said I didn't seem upset, but when I explained that I really felt like I blew it as a mom and sometimes moms don't show their tears to their kids, he gave me a big hug and said he understood.
So my final shout out goes to Noah for understanding his mom isn't perfect, but she tries to do her best and she loves him.
On June 7, 2008, my friend Kimberly, my sister-in-law Rachel, and myself, completed a walking half marathon, which is 13 miles long. The first three miles were great fun. The next three miles were okay fun. Miles seven, eight, nine, and ten involved alot of questions about sanity and "Whose idea was this anyway?" The last three miles involved jokes that weren't funny unless you walked the first ten miles (and probably still aren't funny unless you are Kimberly or Rachel), lots of swearing, and sheer determination to finish. But finish we did. So we get a shout out.
My mom gets a shout out because she drove to Stevens Point, like she does every June, to make sure Noah received his birthday present on his birthday. Then she took Brandon and Lauren home with her overnight so I could get more packing done in this house. It is amazing what you can get done when the things you put in the box stay in the box. Double shout out to my Mom.
Jonathon's soccer coach, October, watched all four kids for Rich and I while we did the final walk through on the house. As if that wasn't enough, she then calls my cell phone and says, "I'll keep the kids and order pizza, you and Rich go out to dinner and celebrate." I don't know if there is a big enough microphone in world, but a shout out definitely goes out to October.
Jill, Don, and Kathryn, all watched the kids during different processes of Rich and I meeting with the realtor and the banker, and listened to me ummm....vent...because that is a better word than whine or complain...so they get a shout out too. Which means Sara gets one because she always listens to me ummm...vent...
So, now that I've thanked the academy, this past week has been so dang crazy that I was three steps away from taking the down payment for the house and buying a one way ticket to the Bahamas. Tuesday is a perfect example of why I felt so strongly about doing it. Rich was out of town (of course he was), so I dropped Jon off at soccer, drove across town to drop Noah off at baseball, drove back to pick up Jonathon, and on the way to watch Noah's game, ended up missing most it, much to Noah's great disappointment. To make matters worse, on final trip to watch Noah become an all star hitter, Brandon started screaming at the top of his lungs that he was hungry.
Granted, I had promised I would run through McDonald's drive-thru, but I had to get back to Noah's game because Jon's practice ran late and Lauren had a potty emergency that I had to take care of while at the soccer field. The whole time Brandon was screaming and crying, I was trying to reason with him that I would take care of it just not immediately, so he needed to "STOP IT!"
but I understood, he was tired and hungry NOW, just like I was, just like his brothers and sister, and it was late, and after I said, "That's enough Brandon!!" 47 times to no avail, I said, "I know Buddy, but I can't fix it until I get Noah, I can't leave Noah alone. I am trying and it has to be enough. I just can't make it better right now. I'm sorry you're just going to have to be upset." And I felt awful because I know what hungry and overtired and stressed out feel like; it has to be worse when you are five.
Truthfully, I would have given anything to be the one to trade places with Brandon, to be the one melting down in the back seat while someone drove me safely to where ever I needed to be, instead of the one silently screaming on the inside, in charge of getting dinner and a reasonably sane bedtime routine together, three nights before I was getting ready to close on my first house while packing everything in the other house. As strange as it sounds, in that moment, I was jealous of Brandon's ability to let it all go at the seams, since I knew that night as a mom was a bust, and the it would have been a welcome release of pent up emotion.
I had too many things to do, too many places to be at one time, and not enough "me" to be doing all of them at them once. However, like all the moms before me, the ones with me in the trenches, and the ones yet to be moms, I drove through it (literally): I drove through McDonald's (like I wouldn't after a night like that), fed everyone at home so we didn't risk a public scene, skipped baths (dirt was not a concern by this point), kissed everyone goodnight, and breathed a sigh of relief when my head hit the pillow.
The next day Noah asked me about missing most of his game. I was honest with him and told him what happened. He said I didn't seem upset, but when I explained that I really felt like I blew it as a mom and sometimes moms don't show their tears to their kids, he gave me a big hug and said he understood.
So my final shout out goes to Noah for understanding his mom isn't perfect, but she tries to do her best and she loves him.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Brandon Update
Yes. I know. I have four children. I have blogged about three of them and it is my job, my responsibility, my-must-do-it-so-my-mommy-guilt-does-not-kick-in-responsibility to report on child number three, Brandon. Do not misunderstand me; there is plenty to report and I love him. The real deal is Brandon can have me tied in knots faster than the other three kids put together. For one, he is the most like his father. Also, under his tough shell he is the easiest to have his feeling hurt and feel excluded from the group. However, he is extremely smart and extremely lovable. The extremely lovable part makes everything else easier to accept.
School went well: The child is five, just finishing 4K, can count to 100, and is already adding and subtracting math facts under 10.
So besides tying me knots, Brandon has been wiping the floor with me in Monopoly, Jr. Four games in 48 hours, and I have not been able to catch a break from this kid. I wish I could say I have been letting him win, but we start out on completely equal playing ground. Brandon ends up victorious and I end up humiliated. I only take comfort in the fact that I am teaching him math skills and good sportsmanship (although maybe I should be teaching him how to trash talk...nah...he can learn it from his brother like he does all his other practical life skills).
One thing that has been amazing to watch develop in Brandon is his sense of pride and leadership. He really wants to help Rich and I. He is the first one out the door, without being asked, to help me unload the groceries when I get home from the store. He also helps me put them away. Lately, he has been helping Lauren get out of her car seat when the van is stopped too. If I need someone to help complete something around the house, he wants to be first one that I ask. That is a joyous thing that I am going to exploit for as long as he lets me.
At church, he LOVES helping set up the Wednesday night meal when it is our turn to cook it. He still hates sitting still during church; some days I give up and put him and Lauren in the nursery when they are so antsy I think I am about to lose my mind, but paying attention is a learning process for everyone. I told our pastor that Brandon will probably be the child that goes into seminary. If that would happen I am passing out Pixie sticks and markers to all the little children under five years old, six minutes before his first sermon. I swear I am. And when members of the congregation ask who I am, I will reply, "his mother, of course."
On a not so fun note: Brandon needs to have outpatient dental surgery on June 19. His first visit to have dental work done a few years ago was unbelievably traumatic for he and I, as the sedation medication they gave him did not take full effect, so Brandon was just old enough and just awake enough to remember all the discomfort, all the noise, and the general yuck of the dentist office. I have since found a dentist that he loves. However, due to his anxiety in the chair, no one has been able to get into his mouth to do anything besides clean his teeth. There is so much dental work that needs to be done, he is going to be admitted into the hospital, be put under anaesthetic for an hour, wake up with completed dental work, and not remember a thing. I am sure I will remember the pain and discomfort of it when I receive the bill.
Just a random note because I don't know where else to put this: I have started calling Brandon and Lauren Pea & Pod. Those two love to find trouble if they cannot invent some of their own. I have a feeling that I might have reason to refer to that name during the summer.
Otherwise, Brandon is growing and growing physically and mentally. He has a healthy sense of mischief just like the rest of his siblings. He is so much more likely to beg forgiveness than ask permission, but my life would be less without him.
School went well: The child is five, just finishing 4K, can count to 100, and is already adding and subtracting math facts under 10.
So besides tying me knots, Brandon has been wiping the floor with me in Monopoly, Jr. Four games in 48 hours, and I have not been able to catch a break from this kid. I wish I could say I have been letting him win, but we start out on completely equal playing ground. Brandon ends up victorious and I end up humiliated. I only take comfort in the fact that I am teaching him math skills and good sportsmanship (although maybe I should be teaching him how to trash talk...nah...he can learn it from his brother like he does all his other practical life skills).
One thing that has been amazing to watch develop in Brandon is his sense of pride and leadership. He really wants to help Rich and I. He is the first one out the door, without being asked, to help me unload the groceries when I get home from the store. He also helps me put them away. Lately, he has been helping Lauren get out of her car seat when the van is stopped too. If I need someone to help complete something around the house, he wants to be first one that I ask. That is a joyous thing that I am going to exploit for as long as he lets me.
At church, he LOVES helping set up the Wednesday night meal when it is our turn to cook it. He still hates sitting still during church; some days I give up and put him and Lauren in the nursery when they are so antsy I think I am about to lose my mind, but paying attention is a learning process for everyone. I told our pastor that Brandon will probably be the child that goes into seminary. If that would happen I am passing out Pixie sticks and markers to all the little children under five years old, six minutes before his first sermon. I swear I am. And when members of the congregation ask who I am, I will reply, "his mother, of course."
On a not so fun note: Brandon needs to have outpatient dental surgery on June 19. His first visit to have dental work done a few years ago was unbelievably traumatic for he and I, as the sedation medication they gave him did not take full effect, so Brandon was just old enough and just awake enough to remember all the discomfort, all the noise, and the general yuck of the dentist office. I have since found a dentist that he loves. However, due to his anxiety in the chair, no one has been able to get into his mouth to do anything besides clean his teeth. There is so much dental work that needs to be done, he is going to be admitted into the hospital, be put under anaesthetic for an hour, wake up with completed dental work, and not remember a thing. I am sure I will remember the pain and discomfort of it when I receive the bill.
Just a random note because I don't know where else to put this: I have started calling Brandon and Lauren Pea & Pod. Those two love to find trouble if they cannot invent some of their own. I have a feeling that I might have reason to refer to that name during the summer.
Otherwise, Brandon is growing and growing physically and mentally. He has a healthy sense of mischief just like the rest of his siblings. He is so much more likely to beg forgiveness than ask permission, but my life would be less without him.
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