4.02.2014
3.31.2014
Traveling is Not for the Faint of Heart
The girls and I are currently visiting my folks in GA. Family is really about as good as you can get and having my momma, daddy, sis, bro-in-law, and nephews & niece around for an entire week is a special kind of sweetness.
Single-parenting and traveling alone with my own babies is another story. Still sweet, but it's a hard-hard-difficult thing that pretty much makes me feel pretty neutral about traveling and visits in general.
My kids are REALLY well-traveled for their ages and I feel as though we have an airplane routine that works for us. A lot of parents worry about the airplane routine...I never really worry about the plane. (1) It's a limited amount of time with an end in sight (about 3.5 hours). (2) A bag of Cheetos given to a zealous 3-year-old to share with her sister lasts approximately 4 hours. (3) No one is really caring about your parenting philosophy or judging too harshly at several thousand feet. Everyone just wants to get to the ground alive and with their ear drums fully functioning.
Best air travel advice I ever got: "You want the moon honey? With a cherry on top? It's yours. How 'bout some whipped cream with that?" For real, if it's not too outlandish a request and does pose an imminent threat to the other passengers, my babies get what they want on an airplane. As an aside: my children have received several hundreds of compliments from skeptical-turned-pleasantly surprised passengers.
So, what's HARD?
Well. Single parents are my heroes. It's hard being the only one parenting. Because let's face it, my relatives are going to spoil the snot out of my kids...which doesn't work so great for consistency or routine. Also, if you're flying on a plane, you're most likely gonna deal with a time change. If I multiply our "Spring Forward" experiences by THREE, my kids are living in a special kind of through-the-looking-glass-sleep-deprived-dementia. Also, poop.
The past three days have been so good, but so hard.
For one, I openly admit my husband is a much better parent than I am. I try, but he and my oldest can handle "conflict" (read: fits) much more effectively. When I am left to my own devices, my three year old and I end up crying piles of mess. Lack of sleep and consistency + three-year-old brain (minus daddy) and you have the perfect equation for EVERYTHING being a fight. As an example: I was yelled at today for making her bagel EXACTLY how she has liked it for forever.
If you ever want a crash course in patience and trying not to lose your stuff with your kids. Travel solo. After several thousand tears, you'll get the hang of it.
The time changes are harder. Namely, because I can't control time. I've talked to God about that job title and the possible extra responsibility - usually at 5am EST which is 3am MT, the kids having gone to bed mere hours earlier. God and I have decided that I couldn't handle the time/space continuum and that my efforts in bathing and drinking coffee would be better appreciated by the general public.
If you travel, just know it could result in your kids sleeping like champs or not sleeping at all. Again, roll with it and try your hardest to not have an emotional break down. You're gonna need coffee.
Poop.
This one is tricky. Nothing magnifies to difficulties of travel like your potty-trained kid deciding to completely disregard all rules of basic society, biology...Leviticus. Expect there to be bowel trouble. If you expect the worse, then those mornings when you DON'T awake to poo-covered sheets & a traumatized kid will be icing on the cake, my friends.
Bottom Line:
Traveling is hard on your kids. It's for real hard on you. Do not engage in anger. It can't fix anything and it confuses your kids...who are already confused, struggling, and nervous (but have no way to talk about or express those emotions).
If you travel alone with your kids often, you are a hero and deserve a parade. Go'head with your bad self...and don't forget the Cheetos.
Single-parenting and traveling alone with my own babies is another story. Still sweet, but it's a hard-hard-difficult thing that pretty much makes me feel pretty neutral about traveling and visits in general.
My kids are REALLY well-traveled for their ages and I feel as though we have an airplane routine that works for us. A lot of parents worry about the airplane routine...I never really worry about the plane. (1) It's a limited amount of time with an end in sight (about 3.5 hours). (2) A bag of Cheetos given to a zealous 3-year-old to share with her sister lasts approximately 4 hours. (3) No one is really caring about your parenting philosophy or judging too harshly at several thousand feet. Everyone just wants to get to the ground alive and with their ear drums fully functioning.
Best air travel advice I ever got: "You want the moon honey? With a cherry on top? It's yours. How 'bout some whipped cream with that?" For real, if it's not too outlandish a request and does pose an imminent threat to the other passengers, my babies get what they want on an airplane. As an aside: my children have received several hundreds of compliments from skeptical-turned-pleasantly surprised passengers.
So, what's HARD?
Well. Single parents are my heroes. It's hard being the only one parenting. Because let's face it, my relatives are going to spoil the snot out of my kids...which doesn't work so great for consistency or routine. Also, if you're flying on a plane, you're most likely gonna deal with a time change. If I multiply our "Spring Forward" experiences by THREE, my kids are living in a special kind of through-the-looking-glass-sleep-deprived-dementia. Also, poop.
The past three days have been so good, but so hard.
For one, I openly admit my husband is a much better parent than I am. I try, but he and my oldest can handle "conflict" (read: fits) much more effectively. When I am left to my own devices, my three year old and I end up crying piles of mess. Lack of sleep and consistency + three-year-old brain (minus daddy) and you have the perfect equation for EVERYTHING being a fight. As an example: I was yelled at today for making her bagel EXACTLY how she has liked it for forever.
If you ever want a crash course in patience and trying not to lose your stuff with your kids. Travel solo. After several thousand tears, you'll get the hang of it.
The time changes are harder. Namely, because I can't control time. I've talked to God about that job title and the possible extra responsibility - usually at 5am EST which is 3am MT, the kids having gone to bed mere hours earlier. God and I have decided that I couldn't handle the time/space continuum and that my efforts in bathing and drinking coffee would be better appreciated by the general public.
If you travel, just know it could result in your kids sleeping like champs or not sleeping at all. Again, roll with it and try your hardest to not have an emotional break down. You're gonna need coffee.
Poop.
This one is tricky. Nothing magnifies to difficulties of travel like your potty-trained kid deciding to completely disregard all rules of basic society, biology...Leviticus. Expect there to be bowel trouble. If you expect the worse, then those mornings when you DON'T awake to poo-covered sheets & a traumatized kid will be icing on the cake, my friends.
Bottom Line:
Traveling is hard on your kids. It's for real hard on you. Do not engage in anger. It can't fix anything and it confuses your kids...who are already confused, struggling, and nervous (but have no way to talk about or express those emotions).
If you travel alone with your kids often, you are a hero and deserve a parade. Go'head with your bad self...and don't forget the Cheetos.
3.27.2014
It can't come soon enough
As a mom (and hey, even as a plain 'ol person), I have always had to fight that nagging desire to speed things up or along. Basically pushing a fast forward button on life in hopes that I could get to the more fun and entertaining bits.
And then you get to the ripe old age of 33 and these things called hindsight and 20/20 and wisdom and thoughtfulness and mindfulness start to take root in your soul. The desire to fast forward starts to ebb as you live IN the moment.
Do not get me wrong. I still find myself wanting to fast forward our way out of X, Y, and Z and into a new season. BLABLABLA. The desire NEVER really leaves. For me it hasn't. It just seems to fade and then pop up at times.
Today I was once again "rotating" the girls' clothes. (Tangent: we have stashes of hand-me-downs that we change out for the seasons, as they grow, etc. I seriously think I have my children outfitted until they are both at least 5 or 6). Looking at little sleepers and dresses and booties, I couldn't believe that the time had gone by so quickly.
Nothing really slaps you in the face with your babies growing up like going through their clothes and seeing the physical change (I'm sure the development of reading skills or doing long division, moving out, getting married are just as striking, but we're not their yet).
I'm putting my baby in clothes that my big girl was JUST WEARING. It makes my heart ache.
This life is a vapor.
Oh how I pray that I soak in every fleeting moment, that I am a loving and compassionate person. That I am fun-loving and free spirited, and that I do all those cheesy things that most country-western songs written on this topic illustrate (I'm staring straight at you Lee Ann Womack).
So, stop reading this silly post and go do something. Something REALLY awesome.
Whether that be saving the day or hugging your kiddos.
Live it Well.
And then you get to the ripe old age of 33 and these things called hindsight and 20/20 and wisdom and thoughtfulness and mindfulness start to take root in your soul. The desire to fast forward starts to ebb as you live IN the moment.
Do not get me wrong. I still find myself wanting to fast forward our way out of X, Y, and Z and into a new season. BLABLABLA. The desire NEVER really leaves. For me it hasn't. It just seems to fade and then pop up at times.
Today I was once again "rotating" the girls' clothes. (Tangent: we have stashes of hand-me-downs that we change out for the seasons, as they grow, etc. I seriously think I have my children outfitted until they are both at least 5 or 6). Looking at little sleepers and dresses and booties, I couldn't believe that the time had gone by so quickly.
Nothing really slaps you in the face with your babies growing up like going through their clothes and seeing the physical change (I'm sure the development of reading skills or doing long division, moving out, getting married are just as striking, but we're not their yet).
I'm putting my baby in clothes that my big girl was JUST WEARING. It makes my heart ache.
This life is a vapor.
Oh how I pray that I soak in every fleeting moment, that I am a loving and compassionate person. That I am fun-loving and free spirited, and that I do all those cheesy things that most country-western songs written on this topic illustrate (I'm staring straight at you Lee Ann Womack).
So, stop reading this silly post and go do something. Something REALLY awesome.
Whether that be saving the day or hugging your kiddos.
Live it Well.
3.26.2014
3.24.2014
Sickness & Other Hard Things
The last few weeks have been rough ones for our little tribe.
We did get to go away to Jackson, WY for a few days, but it wasn't a happy-go-lucky type getaway. It was much more of a retreat, sabbatical, fleeing-the-current-situation-in-hopes-of-getting-some- perspective-and-making-a-plan-type thing.
The day before we left for our long weekend, I developed an earache and my throat was a bit sore. I didn't think anything of it. I started taken a few over the counter drogas that generally cut short whatever I am fighting and help to eliminate symptoms. Las drogas stemmed the tide and I hoped that I would be right as rain in a few days.
We came home and returned to our normal routines. I started cleaning. I had an AM energy spurt and wanted to take advantage. I was wiping down the kitchen and moved onto tackle the laundry room. I started wiping some lint of the walls.
Oh wait. That's not lint. It's mold. Mold. Dark mold. All over our walls.
So, I got the Clorox out and went to work. I went to other parts of the house that are poorly ventilated and looked for mold in those places as well. By the end of the day I was exhausted and angry.
The next morning, I woke up feeling worse and continually getting worse. Note to Self: Don't tackle the cleaning of mold until you know what kind of mold it is and are perfectly healthy and taking the appropriate precautions.
The sickness lasted another week. A lump in my throat developed and made it difficult to swallow and eat. We took samples of the mold and had them sent to labs. I finally decided that giving my body 2 weeks to fight off infection was sufficient and that a medical professional might know best. Yay antibiotics. Thank God for Penicillin as a reactive lymph node and several white spots in my throat were not gonna just leave of their own accord.
So, to recap.
Sickness.
Mold.
Fear of Deadly Mold.
Lots of Anger about it.
Still Sick.
Fear of thinking sickness related to Deadly Mold.
Antibiotics.
Feeling Better.
Waiting on Lab Results from mold samples.
Blurgh.
We did get to go away to Jackson, WY for a few days, but it wasn't a happy-go-lucky type getaway. It was much more of a retreat, sabbatical, fleeing-the-current-situation-in-hopes-of-getting-some- perspective-and-making-a-plan-type thing.
The day before we left for our long weekend, I developed an earache and my throat was a bit sore. I didn't think anything of it. I started taken a few over the counter drogas that generally cut short whatever I am fighting and help to eliminate symptoms. Las drogas stemmed the tide and I hoped that I would be right as rain in a few days.
We came home and returned to our normal routines. I started cleaning. I had an AM energy spurt and wanted to take advantage. I was wiping down the kitchen and moved onto tackle the laundry room. I started wiping some lint of the walls.
Oh wait. That's not lint. It's mold. Mold. Dark mold. All over our walls.
So, I got the Clorox out and went to work. I went to other parts of the house that are poorly ventilated and looked for mold in those places as well. By the end of the day I was exhausted and angry.
The next morning, I woke up feeling worse and continually getting worse. Note to Self: Don't tackle the cleaning of mold until you know what kind of mold it is and are perfectly healthy and taking the appropriate precautions.
The sickness lasted another week. A lump in my throat developed and made it difficult to swallow and eat. We took samples of the mold and had them sent to labs. I finally decided that giving my body 2 weeks to fight off infection was sufficient and that a medical professional might know best. Yay antibiotics. Thank God for Penicillin as a reactive lymph node and several white spots in my throat were not gonna just leave of their own accord.
So, to recap.
Sickness.
Mold.
Fear of Deadly Mold.
Lots of Anger about it.
Still Sick.
Fear of thinking sickness related to Deadly Mold.
Antibiotics.
Feeling Better.
Waiting on Lab Results from mold samples.
Blurgh.
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