inspired

My D is only 34 months old. But he faces fear like a CHAMPION! Seriously... this kid is legend (wait-for-it) dary! If there is something that he is afraid of, (or a thing of which he is afraid?) he screams this ear-splitting, high-pitched wail and stomps his feet while he turns in a circle, then runs in the opposite direction as fast as he can. Seriously...he even makes his brother cry.

But that's not the amazing part.

This is.

D insists... cries, stamps his foot, throws a fit until I turn the car around... on returning to the site of his flight and facing the thing which scared him. Seriously. This 2 and a half year old insists on facing his fears.

For example: Dogs scare D. (We lived next door to an untrained pit bull for the first 18 months of D's life. We had to instill a healthy fear of dogs in order to keep him safe.) Most of our family has small dogs. He has learned how to handle those... from a safe distance, while they're in a cage. But big dogs? No way, no how. He trembles. He screams. He shakes. And if one sneaks up on him at the park while he is climbing a rock and looking the other way... the whole community will hear his high-pitched panic. (Sorry about last Thursday everyone. ;) But he insists on facing the dog. He insists on trying to pet the dog. If he sees a plastic version of "Spot the Dog" at Target, he will first run away in fear. Then, he will traverse the aisles, his toddler size 9 converse plodding methodically behind Mommy keeping time to the rhythm of his mind, thinking about it. And after we find the diapers we are looking for, and after we use the self-checkout, and as we are walking to the car... he will stop. And he will stand. And he will square his shoulders and squeeze his fists together and say, "Mommy, I need to pet the doddie (doggie)." And he will turn around and march back in before his mother has a chance to say, "No, wait, stop." And he will get about 10 feet into the store, start to lose his nerve, bring both hands to his mouth and growl (causing his mother extreme concern when she finally catches up with him after using diaper boxes as a barrier to part the sea of humanity that washes through Target's automatic door.) Then he'll straighten up, literally square his shoulders and march his toddler legs right up to the doggy. And after a few more minutes of consideration, he will reach out his hand and pet that doggy! And the whole time he will wear a T-shirt that says, NOT ironically, "Tiny but Tough."

and his mother will drop the diaper boxes, find her phone, capture the moment digitally, write a blog post and cry. Because that's how she wants to be.

in Resignation

From: Mrs. Schlatt
Personal Assistant/Mother to Mr. D and Mr. B
Schlatt Industries
Dining Room Table

To: Misters D and B
Schlatt Industries
Bedroom #2
Crib 1 and Crib 2

Re: Letter of Resignation

Dear Sirs,
         This letter is to inform you of my resignation, effective 2 weeks from today. I have done my best to fulfill the duties of the job for which I was hired, but it has come to my attention that your requirements/demands far exceed the obligations of my original contract. I have tried to inform you of this incongruity (begging, pleading, bribing, disciplining) but neither of you seems willing to negotiate/listen to me. As a result, I will be resigning my position in 2 weeks time.
         Mr. D and Mr. B, you have employed my services as a personal chef and nutritionist since you both first joined the company. I have done my best to supply you with nutritious meals, feeding you whenever you are hungry, changing my own diet to suit your nutrition needs and even going so far as to give you both food from own plate and body. However, Mr. B, you still INSIST on eating old food off the floor and digging things out of the trash can when I am not looking. Last night, you peeled a farmer sticker off of a puzzle and ate his head!

        Mr. D, you are no better. You throw an absolute fit when I limit your sweet intake or give you water instead of the coffee that I am drinking. You also insist on eating whatever Mr. B is eating. Even if I have prepared an enchilada casserole, you still insist on eating cold, mashed green beans. I'm sorry but I can no longer serve in this capacity.
        Sirs, it is in my original job description that I must keep the house neat and tidy, your laundry clean and ready to wear and the dishes clean. I have attempted to fulfill these duties to the best of my ability. However, you have thwarted my efforts at every step! If I am vacuuming, Mr. B, you scream and insist on being held. If I am sweeping the kitchen, Mr. D, you insist on using your small broom to "help," when in reality, you are just scattering the dirt pile. (Mr. B, you then attempt to eat whatever I have managed to collect in the dustpan.) If I am attempting to wash the dishes, Mr. B, you climb into the dishwasher and try to pull out all the silverware and drink the dirty water that is collecting on the dishwasher door.

        When I finally manage, with much effort, to fold a load of laundry, you both cause a distraction (i.e. Mr. D hitting Mr. B in the face or Mr. B grabbing a toy away from Mr. D) then sneak over to the laundry basket and scatter the clothes. I'm sorry, sirs, but I can no longer serve as your housekeeper.
         Finally, sirs, I don't know if you realize but a full time job is typically 40 work hours a week. In dire circumstances, an employer may sometimes require 50 or 60 hours to meet a deadline or complete a project. Mr. D and Mr. B, you both require me to work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week! I get no vacation and no downtime. Sometimes, you even require me to work through my coffee breaks! There have also been numerous times where you both insist that I work all night long! This is far and above what any employer should require of an employee. My health is suffering as a result... I do not get enough sleep, I am living under more stress and worry than ever before, and having a healthy meal plan or a workout schedule seems impossible. I can no longer work under such extreme conditions.
      I don't know if either of you realize but I am overqualified for this job. I have two degrees that allow me to teach people far older than either of you. I spent a good amount of money for 5 years of college and now, you expect me to clean dirty diapers and wipe both of your noses/hands/bottoms. This is not an appropriate use of my talents. I'm sure that I will be able to find a job where I can use my degrees, where they treat me appropriately and where I am able to use my brain for solving complex problems, instead of reading the same mind-numbing Curious George book for the 12th week in a row!
     In short, Sirs, I no longer have the mental capacity to fulfill the job requirements that you insist upon. I will be retaining my position as mother, but resigning as personal chef, nanny and housekeeper. Thank you both for your time.

                                                                                                Sincerely,
                                                                                                        Your Mother

     PS: No fair learning to say Mama, Daddy and Da'id. No fair squealing with delight when we walk in the room. No fair tucking your head under my chin whenever I pick you up. My resolve will stay strong....

     PPS: Sigh. I cannot withstand the cuteness...

From: Mrs. Schlatt
Personal Assistant/Mother to Mr. D and Mr. B
Schlatt Industries
Dining Room Table

To: Misters D and B
Schlatt Industries
Bedroom #2
Crib 1 and Crib 2

Re: No longer resigning.

Dear Sirs,
     Please disregard my letter of resignation. Feeding you, caring for you, picking up after you... all small prices to pay for the privilege of watching you grow.

     Dinner will be ready soon... and please stop kicking your brother in the face.

                                                                                                Sincerely,
                                                                                                        Mom

in Celebration!

It's already been a year... a whole year.

It's so hard to believe that our Little Man is now, officially a year old! Our surprise baby, who has never allowed himself to be ignored, is cruising on the furniture, babbling to his Daddy and insisting on using a plate at the dinner table. (Seriously, if you don't give this kid a fork and spoon he will scream his head off!)

He loves reading...

all things music...

and wrestling with his big brother! (well, he tolerates it anyway. ;) 

 

  

But most of all... he LOVES to cuddle!

 

His life has not been the easiest... he was conceived when his brother was still recovering from heart surgery, carried during Daddy's first year of seminary and born a month before finals. His first few months were filled with stress and turmoil as Mommy battled postpartum depression and Daddy prepped the house for showings.

He has bravely survived surgery...

and moving to a new house and state.

But this spunky little guy has always made himself known and has a heart for adventure! His favorite place is outside... he longingly stands by windows and doors. He will escape given the least little opportunity. And watch those stairs! This kid is fast, fast, FAST! Before he could even fully crawl, he had climbed the staircase, terrifying both his parents who thought they had a few more weeks before needing to put up the baby gate. 

 

He is an introvert: he and Daddy both needed a nap after his birthday party, and he would rather spend the afternoon running his trucks than playing with his brother. (Much to his brother's dismay.) But once he has decided he loves you, you are his. He has a claim on your heart. (Just ask his Papa who has become B's special person. :)

 He jumps up and down when Daddy comes home, he shouts and coos when his brother wakes up and toddles over to peer through the crib slats, and he goes full flap, wiggling every body part he has discovered when Mommy walks in the room.

He is our cheeky monkey and we love him dearly!

Happy 1st Birthday, Little Man! 

(I'm sorry this post is two weeks late. I've apologized a lot your first year of life. Don't worry, we'll help pay for therapy in the future if you need it. ;) 

in Respect

This is D...

This is D's "hat"...

In fact, it's not just a hat. It's a football helmet. It's a baseball cap. It's a prince's crown. It's a bargaining tool in the constant, daily toy battle with his baby brother.

He claims it's his football helmet.

A Prince's crown with sword. 

(It's actually the bottom part of a Bob the Builder's hard hat that he got for his birthday last year. Not that that matters to a two year old.)

He's kind of a hat kid. 

Well... they're both kind of hat kids. :) 

Okay, so maybe it runs in the family.

But, ahem, anyway. D's hat.



One evening, a few weeks ago, Mike was traveling for work. He had flown to DC for project meetings so it was just me and the boys for a couple days. When that happens, we Google Hangout with Daddy at bedtime. We sing, we laugh, we sometimes read books. Before we hang up, Mike always prays. This particular evening, D, as usual, was wearing his hat. When Mike started praying, this head-strong, stubborn toddler removed his hat. Yes, that's right, he REMOVED his hat!! A 2 year old... taking his hat off to pray.

Now, this wouldn't be so ridiculous if Mike wore hats, or we attended church softball games on a regular basis, or we went to church with a bunch of cowboys who routinely removed their Stetsons. But he doesn't. And we don't. And even though we live in horse country, no one wears a cowboy hat to church. We have no idea how D knew that this is a sign of respect, appropriate to the moment.

My only guess is based on something that happened at church that same morning.

Worship at our church is incredible! We love it. We love it even more when we get to church on time and we don't miss the first few songs. :) But that Sunday morning, even though we were running late, we were still hit with authentic, Spirit-filled worship as soon as we walked in the door. (Spirit-filled worship = the worship team spending less time playing perfectly and more time listening and responding through improvised melody.) We found some empty chairs, settled the kiddos, D standing next to me, B strapped to my front in the Ergo, and joined in with song. After a few minutes, Mike stepped away from our chairs and knelt down in response to what he was feeling. At our church, this isn't something that causes much distraction. People are free to worship and respond however they like. (Within reason... after all, we don't want anybody to lose an eye because their neighbor was wildly flinging his arms.) But when my husband knelt down and bowed his head before God, my toddler followed suit. He joined his Daddy on the floor, on his knees, head bowed.

My son is learning to respect Jesus because my husband respect's Jesus. And that is an incredible thing.

And also a terrifying responsibility.
They will love what we love. They will repeat what we repeat. They will see people how we see people. They will see themselves how we see ourselves. They will see God the way we see God.

And with God's help, they will be nothing like better than us.

in sickness and in health

Oh boy, we are sick. Yuck! It started out with B teething... Well, what we thought was B teething. About a week and a half ago, Mike and I started sleeping on the couch, taking turns holding B in the recliner. 2... 3 hours of sleep a night. Mike still working and going to class. Manageable. But during the day, I felt like I was losing my mind! D was taking every chance he could get to make his brother cry. I'd hand B a toy, final get a chance to put him down and run to the bathroom, and D would take it away and hit his brother with it! And I was so tired and frustrated and overwhelmed... And I would scream and everybody would cry. And Mike would say, "Go for a walk. Take your 30 minutes to yourself." And I would, but then something else would happen and the crazy cycle would begin again.

Until Wednesday night last week.

Mike had class and I was putting both boys to bed. While helping D brush his teeth, I noticed something... A flash of white. "Wait a minute! Hold on! Open your mouth, let me see that!" And there it was. That terrible, wonderful little ridge protruding from the back of his gum. His last 2 year molar! He had been ornery and awful for a week because HE WAS TEETHING!!!!! I wanted to run through the streets screaming, "I'm not crazy! He's teething! I'm not a bad mother! He's teething! Our family's not falling apart! He was teething! Holy hallelujah!!!" But instead, I hugged D and apologized for not noticing and let him stay up late for extra stories and cuddles.

And then Thursday, he ran a fever... And started coughing... And had a stuffy nose... And he quit sleeping. So we cancelled all weekend plans and we've been quarantined ever since... The boys have RSV, and ear infections. And they've shared it with me. And Mike has had to travel for work and he's had exams and papers.

So we've been watching a LOT of old movies, and smearing ourselves with essential oils, and running humidifiers, and using lots of tissue, and drinking lots of vitamin water, and spending our days like this...

And it's okay. Cause these are the days that Netflix is making me a better mommy. 

And D is happy to be able to wear his Thomas PJs all day. :) 

Too busy watching Miracle on 34th Street to smile.

in a Selfish phase... but not really

Some days, I feel like a great mommy! Like tonight... the dishes are done, the cloth diapers are soaking, the boys both went to sleep without screaming, I made myself a cup of tea and I actually wore real clothes today! (I mean like shoes and socks and everything!) Mama win!

And then somedays, D refuses to help clean up, and screams "No!" at me all day long, and then he spills his milk on the floor and I scream at my toddler for being clumsy and he cries and then I cry and then B cries because everybody is crying and that stresses out his little 10 month old heart.

That's right... I scream at my 2 year old for spilling his milk... and I make him cry.

Mama Fail.

We do live in Kentucky now...

Usually on those I-make-everybody-cry days, I have no coping skills. I am stressed, I am nervous, I am burnt out. I don't have the ability to stop myself and say, "It's okay. We'll clean it up." All I can think is, "You did that on purpose to defy me! AHHHHHH!" Not a rational thought by any stretch of the imagination. And I have come to realize that, most of the time, those are the days where I haven't thought about myself at all. Yes, you read that sentence right... on the days where I take no time for myself... no 30 minutes of morning Yoga, no lingering at the breakfast table to finish my cup of coffee, no admiring myself in the mirror while I try out a new eyeshadow... those are the days where I am the worst kind of mommy. The days where I've tried to only be a mommy, I'm the worst mommy. 

Monday night, at Women's Communion, our fabulous speaker, LE said, "You can't pour from an empty cup." 

So so true. Often, lovely women and devoted friends and family have filled my cup for me... the 6 weeks following my c-sections, for example. I am literally not able to do anything but sit and nurse a baby. So other people have to gather, take care, clean my house, feed my family and fill my cup. But most of the time, I need to be responsible for making sure my cup is being filled. I'm just now starting to figure out what that means...

Growing up in a Christian denomination that leaned toward legalism, I've always interpreted that phrase as reading your Bible and praying. "You want to be filled up? Do more devotions. Spend more time with Jesus. Getting bored with all that? Here are 17 verses taken totally out of context and vaguely related to perseverance." And then, once you were filled, you better be headed out to the mission field so that you can pour yourself out because "to whom much is given much will be expected." (Another oft quoted Bible verse taken totally out of context and used to "encourage" young Christians struggling with their faith lives.) 

But I've learned a fancy new term... Self-Care. Which, surprisingly, means taking care of yourself. And, being the brilliant scientist that I am, I am learning that if you don't take care of yourself, then you can't take care of other people. WHAT? I know. 

 

So here I am... doing Yoga, drinking decaf coffee (thank you, anxiety), and trying new eyeshadows. And being a better mommy because I'm selfishly (but not actually selfishly) taking time for myself. 

*And yes, somedays people are sick and no sleeping is happening and we have run out of coffee. And on those days I am grateful for Netflix. Because sometimes, Netflix makes me a better Mommy.*

in Conversation: things you shouldn't say to a mom of two kids... or any person... ever.

Not the post that I was intending to write this week. However, after an... let's say, interesting conversation in the cafeteria at lunch today, I decided it was time to look back at all the comments that were flung in my direction after announcing that I was pregnant with my second child only 9 months after giving birth to my first.

While still pregnant...

"Wow... Congratulations, I guess." Then, in a whisper, away from Michael... "You're happy about this, right?"

"Don't you think it's rude to get pregnant so fast when your (insert distant relative here) struggles with infertility?"

"How many babies are you planning on having?"

"Did you lose all the baby weight from the first one, yet?"

"You must really like sex a lot."

and my personal favorite... "You're pregnant again? What do you want your own reality TV show?"



The first time we brought B to church...

"I didn't know you were pregnant! I just thought you hadn't lost the baby weight."

"Does D like him? or has he tried to hurt the baby, yet?"

"He looks JUST like his brother."

"He looks NOTHING like his brother."

"Two boys? It's time to start trying for that girl!"

"Are you guys finished or do you want another one?"

"You must really like sex A LOT."

and an oldie but a goodie... "You had another baby already? What do you want your own reality TV show?"

In public with two kiddos...

"You really have your hands full."

"Are they BOTH yours?"

"My daughter/cousin/sister-in-law/best-friend-from-kindergarten had two kids close together like that... She said it was the hardest thing ever."

"Your boys are so cute! Do they look like their Dad?"

"Both of your boys are so cute, I could just steal one of them!"

"You're going to wait to have more kids... right?"

and still... "Two kids, 17 months apart? What do you want your own reality TV show?"

and from the cafeteria today... "I recognized your boys, but last time you didn't have any makeup on, your hair was kind of messy and you were in jogging pants. You looked really tired. That's why I didn't recognize you this time!"


Next time you see me in public and I look like a hot mess but both of my boys are alive and I'm still speaking to my husband... please consider the fact that it has probably taken every ounce of energy I have to just get out of the door without forgetting a snack/bottle/diaper/Thomas the Train engine.
        ...And my husband has probably asked me to "Get out and meet some people" in this new community that he so desperately wants to be a part of but is having a hard time finding the space in his schedule what with all the working/studying/fathering/husbanding.
        ...And it's probably such short notice that the best I could do was to change two diapers, make sure everyone has socks, change the baby's outfit again after he spit up/drooled/pooped all over himself, and hope to God that nobody will notice that I haven't showered in three days.
        ...And if you still feel the need to speak to me after the initial, "Hi, how are you? My name is____," (and please speak to me after the initial "Hi, how are you, my name is ___."); maybe you could just ask if I'm reading anything exciting right now. Chances are, there is a book open on my Kindle that I truly intend on finishing before my boys reach puberty.

...and maybe stand downwind... just in case. :)