Sometimes I yell at my kids.

After I do, I always hate myself.

I don’t want to yell at my kids, I try not to yell at my kids, but sometimes I am weak.

It usually happens when I am trying to work, there are crumbled gold fish all over my floor, my laundry is higher than Amy Winehouse, I haven’t showered, every step I take lands my foot on a lego, and my 2-year-old is screaming because her older brother won’t share.

That is usually the point that I get weak.  I feel suffocated by my responsibilities.  

Don’t get me wrong I want all of those responsibilities, I respect them and hold my role as a mother in the highest regard, I just get overwhelmed when I feel like I am utterly failing.

Then I yell.

It’s not their fault.

I think I’ve heard it called the “Kick the Dog Syndrome.”  

I feel disappointed in myself so I take it out on my children.  Trust me when I say that I understand how wrong that is.  I really do, and please don’t think that I am constantly berating and screaming at my offspring, the vast majority of the time, I keep my cool.  I am ashamed of the minority of the time.    

On Friday I found myself reaching my boiling point, then I happened upon some pictures of Haiti. 

I call that PERSPECTIVE.

I feel buried in my  responsibilities.  I feel overwhelmed. . . perspective.

I can’t imagine what those poor people are going through.  As I was looking at some of the pictures from Haiti on my computer, I was worried that my oldest son (6) would catch a glimpse of them and be emotionally damaged.  Then I thought about the kids there who are living in the pictures.  They aren’t seeing those heart wrenching images on a computer screen from some far distant place, that is their reality.  They are the images.  Their family members, their playmates, their teachers, they are  the mass graves and the lifeless bodies on the side of the road.

Their mothers aren’t feeling overwhelmed because of laundry.

How shallow am I?

Today I’m not going to yell at my kids.  I am going to hug them and constantly remind them how much they are loved.  I am going to remind myself that while they may be making messes and fighting over broken toys, I am blessed.  I know where my kids are.  They are safe under my roof.  My roof which still stands safely over my head.

Perspective.

Today my baby turns two. 

I can hardly believe it. 

Is it possible that on this very day she has suddenly grown up?  This morning she had a full conversation with my mom on the phone.  It has taken her a long time to develop her speech, so to hear her carrying on a conversation, as simple as it may have been, just about blew me away.  Today her baby girl pig-tails look like little girl pig-tails.  Today she has suddenly transformed from my baby to my little girl.

Crazy.

You may have noticed that I titled this post “Guilt,” at this point, you just might be asking yourself what on earth that has to do with my little girl’s 2nd birthday.  Trust me, the title is appropriate.

When my kids celebrate their birthday, I do my best to make it a special day.  I try to let them do just about anything (within reason) that they want to do.  I try to shower them with praise and love and special attention, and most of all, I try really hard not to get upset with them. 

 Well, unfortunately for both my little girl and me, today hasn’t quite gone as planned.

I have mentioned before that I work from home.  I work from home on my computer.  I don’t have an office, my computer sits on a desk in the middle of the kitchen.  I don’t have a nanny or a housekeeper, or a stay-at-home husband, it’s me. . .at work. . . with my kids. 

Most of the time it works out fabulously.  The kids are great to stay busy putting together legos, playing with their hot wheels, or drawing.  I can step in and referee an argument every now and again, I can change a diaper and refill a sippy cup, and I can hold my baby girl on my lap while I type.

Today is just like any other in the fact that I am once again working.  I am trying hard to make the day special for my little birthday girl, but as I mentioned earlier, today she has transformed.  She has transformed from a baby to a two-year-old, and that has proven itself both good and bad. 

Today instead of letting me hold her on my lap while she just sits there being comforted, she feels the need to repeatedly bang the keyboard with her tiny toddler hand.  Today, on her very special day, she has had three massively foul smelling diapers, she has colored on my dining room table, tried to shave her legs with a razor I was certain was well out of her reach, unfolded every single towel in my house, and threw multiple hand-fulls of noodles on the kitchen floor.

I have done my best to be patient.  I have done my best not to get upset with her, I have done my best not to hate myself because she was able to do many of those random acts of destruction while I was working, but what it comes down to is that I am doing my best. 

So is she.

I am confident that by the time she wakes up from her nap she won’t even remember that I pointed my finger at her and sternly said “No, No!” as she threw the noodles to the floor. . . but I’ll remember, she most likely won’t remember the special pink skirt I, or the  pom pom garland, or the dandelion night light that I have spent hours making her for her special day. . . but I will .  But there is one thing that I hope she does remember, that I love that little girl more than I could ever possibly express.  I love everything about her, ever-single-thing.

Happy Birthday Baby!

I hope that all of you had a wonderful Christmas!  Ours was great.  The day was somewhat relaxed, and the kids were spoiled rotten.  I really do love Christmas.  However, I also despise the aftermath. 

You see, I work from home, on the computer for up to 6 hours a day.  While I am working, my kids enjoy playing with each other, and the harder they play, the messier the house gets.  That’s typical, Christmas or no Christmas, but the joy of Christmas seems to have left a large amount of extra clutter in my life. 

Our 12ft Christmas tree is making me claustrophobic.  The once beautiful and majestice symbol of life everlasting is now a giant dust and clutter collector. 

The toys the kids were so excited to open on Christmas morning have now been poked, prodded, and abused leaving some of them broken or neglected after only a short stay at our home.  My boys got two giant boxes of legos.  I love the concept of legos.  I love that they require critical thinking, imagination, and fine motor skills, but I loathe the little pieces that end up all over the house only to be stepped upon by an unsuspecting barefoot. 

The packages once wrapped in fancy paper with lovely bows, adding to the festive decor of  our home are now piled up sky high in the corner of my kitchen.  Just sitting there.  Waiting for my wonderful husband to take the time to send them to their resting place-far away from my kitchen.

The delicious handmade treats that my friends and neighbors so graciously brought to our home as a symbol of love are now crumbs on my kitchen floor.

And finally, all of the lovely Christmas decor I have been working so hard to collect throughout my adult life  just adds to my list of things I have to dust.

I think I’m going crazy! 

I really make an effort to have the Christmas Spirit.  There are so many wonderful things that accompany this time of year, but now, I want my house back.

Today my mom is making the 20 minute drive up to my house to help me package all of my Christmas decor in their boxes where they’ll be stored and eagerly awaiting their appearance in 2010.  When that time comes, I will be so happy to see them that I will giggle with joy.  But now, be gone with you!  All of you!

Even though this site is supposedly meant for “modern” mamas, I just couldn’t resist posting about a mother from long ago who had an incredibly heavy load to bare.  I can’t even fathom what it may have been like to be Mary, the mother of our Savior.  Did she worry?  Did she complain?  Did she ask ‘why me?’  I love this song.  I think it just might her role and her emotions into perspective, even just a little bit.
I have traveled
Many moonless night
Cold and Weary
With a babe inside
And I wonder
What I’ve done
Holy Father
You have come
Chosen me now
To carry your son

I am waiting
in a silent prayer
I am frightened
by the load i bear
In a world as cold as stone
Must I walk this path alone
Be with me now
Be with me now

[chorus:]
———————————–
Breath of Heaven
Hold me together
Be forever near me
Breath of Heaven

Breath of Heaven
Lighten my darkness
Pour over me, your holiness
For your holy Breath of Heaven
———————————–

Do you wonder
As you watch my face
If a wiser one, should of had my place
But I offer-all I am
For the mercy-of your plan
Help me be strong
Help me be
Help me

[chorus]

WMAG Contributors

I am so excited for my first blog feature on this site!  I am also extremely excited about the site I’m featuring. I ran across this great blog a while back called Working Moms Against Guilt.  I love the concept of the site.  There are so many mothers that work either because the want to or because the have to, and unfortunately oftentimes there is a feeling of guilt that is attatched to the role of a working mom.  These great moms are taking a stand against that guilt.  It is an enlightening blog that deals with day-to-day challenges and successes that so many of us can relate to.  Here is one of my favorite posts,

Thursday, July 09, 2009

Oh me oh my.

Two weeks ago O decided it was time to go on the potty. I was excited. We hadn’t been poking, prodding, or cajoling him. (I learned long ago this wonderful human being is about as stubborn as his mom, and as long as you give him his space, he’ll make up his mind all on his own thankyouverymuch.) One day he went in a diaper, I asked him where Mommy and Daddy went to the b-room, he said “the potty.” I asked him if he wanted to try going on the potty, he said yes, and here we are.

Two weeks later peeing in the potty is mastered, #2–not so much. We’ll get there, though. I’m not worried.

What I might be slightly worried about is what potty training has done to our morning commute. I purposely picked a daycare that is closer to my work than home. (He’s already one of the last kids there as it is, and the daycare is approximately 5 minutes from my work. All the other moms must work next door or get off work at 4 or something.) Anyway, we have about a 20-25 minute commute downtown

Today we stopped TWICE to go to the bathroom on the way to work. Partially my fault, because I didn’t ask him if he had to go before we left. And I think the second stop might have been a manipulation to get more Hostess muffins.

But hey, he went both times. And I’d much rather stop and be late to work than not stop and be late due to cleaning up my car. Bonus: I get to tour all the lovely gas station and grocery store bathrooms on the way to our work/daycare. Heck! I could start a little side business: A site that lists all the bathrooms off of I-71 in order of cleanliness….

My first post would be a warning to watch out for the Speedway off the Ridge Exit. It’s a little icky.

I would like to highly encourage you to check out their site!  It’s a great read, and serves an even greater purpose.

Thanks WMAGs!

Last night around the time my hubby and I went to bed at 10:30, it began snowing.  It’s now 2:00pm and the snow hasn’t stopped. 

Somebody certainly shook the snow globe.

It’s beautiful.  The crisp white snow twinkling and untouched on the ground seems to be an open invitation to kids everywhere to leave their mark.  How could that beautiful snow possibly go untouched? 

It couldn’t. 

My oldest has kindergarten in the morning.  Today I picked him up and was home by lunch.  After a snack and homework, the process began.

It always goes something like this, “MOM, where are my gloves?”   “MOM where is my beanie?”  “MOM will you help me get my boots on!”  The belting out of loud demands and pressing inquiries seems to be everlasting.  Then came the actual suiting up.  The long johns, the hoodies, the snow pants, the coats, the hats, the gloves, then the scarves. . . .Then the, “I have to pee!”  It seems to go on for hours!

After the excitement of the preparation, the time comes at last that they get to venture to the great outdoors.  Today I even let my baby join in on the fun.  It wasn’t the first time she had seen the snow, but it was certainly the first time she got to dive right in.  It was sheer bliss for all three of them. . . .for about 15 minutes!  Then they decided they were too cold, the snow was too “crumbly” to build a snowman, and the hills were too small for sledding.

So, the process began again, only this time it was in reverse.  Once the commotion was finished, I looked around at about 15 seperate puddles of melted snow on my hardwood floor, 12 stacks of wet clothes needing attention, and 3 frozen kids with wet hair and red noses.

Was it worth it?  I really can’t say.  However if you ask any one of the three, I am confident the answer would be a resounding, “ABSOLUTELY!”  Which is why the next time it snows when I hear the call, “MOM, where are my gloves?” I’ll be right there, gloves in hand and a half smile on my face.

There is something magic in the air. 

I love it. 

I usually try to refrain from excessive Christmas celebration until after Thanksgiving.  Well, my time has finally arrived. 

Have I mentioned I love it?

I have gone wild with Christmas music, and decorations!  Last night our family finished decorating our tree.  The kids were so excited, they kept saying “This is the BEST Christmas ever!”  In the middle of our jubilee, my oldest son looked out the window and saw a blinking red light.  He excitedly exclaimed, “Do I see what I think I see?”  His younger brother, Super T, booked it over to the window to see what his wise older brother was looking at. 

Almost in unison they yelled “RUDOLPH!”

I knew just what to do. . . .I took advantage of the situation.

I immediately explained that Santa was making his rounds to see which list the little children belonged on. . . Naughty, or Nice  I also pointed out that it was past their bedtime and they were not yet in bed.

As I watched my boys sprint to the bathroom to begin their nightly routine, I couldn’t help but think of how magical these years are.  Right now, my kids knowSanta is real.  They have no doubt that he really was making his nightly rounds checking on the status of  their behavior.  They are mesmerized by the pure magnitude of the jolly old guy’s Christmas trip around the world, and they can’t get over how cool it is that he will be coming down our chimney.  I love it.  It’s magic.

My oldest is will be 7 in the summer.  I’m afraid these magical years won’t go on too much longer.  I have made a firm resolve to enjoy every moment of this Holiday Season.

After all, the day that I can no longer use the infamous stern phrase, “Santa’s Watching!” will be a sad, sad day!

Is it just me, or does it seem like this year the Christmas decorations began popping up BEFORE Halloween was even over?  The commercialism of the Christmas season seems to be overpowering many beautiful things about the Holidays, including Thanksgiving.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the Christmas season.  It really is, in my opinion, “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year,” but I do get a little saddened when Thanksgiving goes unnoticed.

I believe that celebrating Thanksgiving as a time of reflection and maybe even soul searching about the things we are truly thankful for, is vital.

I am willing to bet that for one reason or another, this year has been  hard for many people.  I know it’s been hard for us at times.  But I have found that it is during the hard times that being thankful is the most important.

Let me pause for a moment to give you an example straight out of the pages of the book of my life.  Right at this very moment, even as I type these words, two of my children are weeping and whaling because they both want to be the one to put a simple bag away.  There is an entire toy room to clean up, but it is thatbag that will define their lives so much so that they have to spend all of their time and energy arguing over it. 

Charming. 

And it is also right at this very moment that I am trying to focus on how thankful I am for my wonderful children.  Sometimes it’s hard.  But, because I am in the “thankful” mindest, because I am writing this very post, I am doing my best to remind myself how thankful I am that my house is not quiet.  That my house is not empty.  That my house is a home where some screaming, arguing, hugging, and laughter all take place.  That even with the screaming and yelling, over that blasted bag, I am thankful that those kids are mine and that I get to be here through it all.

I am thankful for having to tighten our belts a bit when it comes to spending.  That has helped me learn the value of hard work, and more importantly, it has shown me what things are really important.  Most of the time the things that are important aren’t things.

I am thankful that my husband has been working long hours to provide for our family.  That has helped me realize how much I love to have him around, and what a valiant man he is.

Finally, I am thankful that my kids argue, while politeness is a virtue, I am so glad that they are passionate people.  When channeled in the right avenues, I know that will take them far.

So, I would like to encourage youto think about the things that might be making your life difficult, then think about how you can learn to be grateful for them.  It may just change your life.

I have a beautiful baby girl.  After two energetic boys, that I LOVE with my heart and soul, I found myself longing for a little girl.  One that I could dress in pretty clothes and do her hair with pretty bows. 

When my husband and I talked about getting pregnant for the third time, I knew it was time, and I knew in my heart that I was going to get that baby girl. 

Needless to say, I was right (I love it when that happens).  I do dress her in pretty clothes, and I do put her hair in pretty bows, and most of the time, she despises them both!  Her brothers adore her, and she returns the feelings wholeheartedly.  She loves them so completely and unconditionally, and she wants to be just like them.  Her first words were “cool car” and “touchdown!”  I love it!  I love them all.

I love them so deeply and completely that I just can not  imagine my life without them in it.  The thought scares me.

I came across this blog the other day.  The blog is written by a courageous mother and father who have a baby boy and an angel daughter.  Their daughter Lucy returned Home when she was nearly two years old. . . .The same age as my beautiful girl.  Lucy had bouncy curls and a life full of personality. . . just like my beautiful girl.  Lucy choked on an apple the size of a pea.  I know. . .  unbelievable.  Her mother and father did everything they could and more, and ultimately had to watch their princess die.  You can read the whole story here.  They are courageous.  They are survivors.

Sometimes I complain.   When my princess spilled an entire box of cereal on the floor, I moaned and groaned, and I complained.  When my princess wants me to hold her all day so that I can get NOTHING done, sometimes I complain.  But now I think about them.  I think about Lucy.  I KNOW they wouldn’t complain if their princess wanted them to hold her all day.  I have that opportunity.  They don’t.  And I complain.

I love all three of my children entirely,  I love them all equally.  Lucy reminds me of my princess.  That is why my mind wandered to the what-ifs.  What if that was our story.  What if .  It broke my heart.

Today, I am giving thanks.  Thanks for a loving God who has afforded me the opportunity to be a mother to three wonderful children.  Thanks for every breathe they breath and every beat their hearts beat.  I’m thankful that I can hold them all day. . .and get nothing done.  With all my heart, I’m thankful.

Two months ago, I contacted a friend of mine who also happens to be a great photographer.  I requested a date to schedule a photo shoot for my family.  Not just my little family, but my extended family as well.  Last time we had a photo of all of us, my 6 year old was 6 months, needless to say, a lot has changed since then.

I scheduled well in advance so that we could ensure our time-slot, and my family could plan their schedules around the event.  Well, the day worked well for everybody so our calendars were marked, and our coordinating outfits bought.

Then. . . the bumps in the road.  Why are there always bumps in the road?  Last week, on Sunday morning I felt a little tingle on my lip.  It was a familiar sensation as I get the same one about ever 18 months.  I knew in my heart of hearts that it was the beginning of a big, fat, nasty COLD-SORE!  Of course it was a coldsore, why wouldn’t it be?  I thought that I could catch it soon enough to keep it in check, but here I sit today.  The day of our scheduled pictures, with a cold-sore spanning the length of my lip clear down to my chin.  Awesome!

My photographer ensured me that it would be an easy fix with photoshop, so I rolled with it.

Next bump, I had been watching the weather sporadically all week which mentioned here and there that there was a chance of precipitation on Saturday.  I crossed my fingers that we would miss that chance.  This morning I woke up and the sun was shining and the skies were clear.  I was pumped.

Yet here, again, I sit with my infected face looking out my window at a white-out.

Pictures will be rescheduled.

Why does it seem that try as I may, plan as I might, and prepare as I should, that nothing ever goes the way it’s supposed to?  Am I the only one or is this a common theme among us?