Rice crispie hearts

I decided to get some feedback on what type of treat everyone wanted for F.H.E. Cole made absolutely no sense with his babbling and Jeff was at work. So the only one left to ask was Pearl.

Her response? Something like this... "Something good. Not like the treats you always make."

Pffffff.

We settled on rice crispie treats. Heart-shaped and dipped in chocolate with sprinkles rice crispie treats to be exact.

I found two boxes of the clearance holiday sprinkles at Target! A whooping grand total of $5 for endless fun. Love it!!! I've scored sprinkles there for Christmas, Easter, and Halloween too.I wasn't expecting both kids to find rice crispies cereal such a treat. Nor was I anticipating the mess on the floor, stove, counters, and in shoes and socks. After telling myself to just "enjoy the moment" and refrain from freaking out that there were now gobs of crushed cereal all over my kitchen floor, I was able to get about 15 heart-shaped rice crispie treats whipped out. I melted some chocolate chips we had in the freezer and let Pearl and Cole sprinkle to their hearts' content. Totally random, but all of a sudden Pearl was pulling her typical I-don't-want-to-look-at-the-camera-face. Cole tried to copy her and both erupted in giggles. I have to admit, I was pretty impressed with the final product. Not only did they look festive, but they actually stayed soft and gooey just how we like them. It's funny, but I was talking to my mom after making this horrible, sticky, crunchy mess with my kids and realized for the 10 seconds when I wasn't hollering at Pearl to be careful with the sprinkles and get her sleeves out of the chocolate or Cole to stop throwing cereal on the floor, that that's what enjoying motherhood is all about.

Baball

Jeff is dead-set on Cole becoming his Aggie buddy. He's gently trying to prep Pearl (aka his "best friend" as self-appointed by Pearl herself) that Cole is going to be his new best friend. One, because I think Jeff finds it a bit creepy to think his teenage daughter will tell everyone her Dad is her best friend. Two, he knows Cole has already inherited whatever athletically-inclined talents our gene pool could muster. And three, it's every Dad's dream to take his son to these type of events.

So we did a trial-run this week by taking Cole to a basketball game. I was thinking it'd be no different than when Pearl goes. Whining, boredom, and once the popcorn runs out, wanting to leave. And if you know Jeff, you know he does not leave until the last buzzer sounds.Which results in a fun evening for Jeff but not so much for me. But Cole totally surprised us! The kid sat and watched the game for all but the last five minutes or so - and a walk around the Spectrum at half-time. He was so good! And he looked super cool in his Aggie beanie, albeit a bit on the hoodlum side. He wore that beanie ALL DAY LONG! I'm not kidding! He went to bed wearing it the night before and put it on as soon as he woke up. Anytime someone tried to take it off he freaked out.He ate an entire bag of popcorn - just like Pearl does - and did the Scotsman with the crowd. There wasn't any squirming or fussing. And each time Jeff stood up to cheer or heckle the officials, Cole would jump into his seat and then laugh at his own sneakiness! With about five minutes left in the game, Cole must have decided he missed his big sister. It's not too often either one of our kids gets to hang out with just Mom and Dad. So, he found a surrogate sister, the little girl who sits behind us. And now that I see them together in a picture, she looks like she really could be his sister! They both have that super blonde hair. Cole sat right next to her and copied everything she did. She was a good sport about the whole thing, and even shared one of her Disneyland suckers with him. I felt kind of bad because as soon as she handed it to him, he started whacking it on the stairs until it was almost totally shattered. Cole far exceeded my expectations. Not only was he well-behaved, but he actually sat and watched the game. He would turn around in between stuffing handfuls of popcorn in his mouth, and excitedly tell me, "Baball! Baball!"

I'm thinking my "date nights" with Jeff are now over.

Don't Carpe Diem (plagarized)

I read this article and had to post it in it's entirety. It's that good and expresses almost perfectly how I feel about being a mom.

Don't Carpe Diem
By: Glennon Melton
Originally posted on 1/14/2012 on the Huff Post

Every time I'm out with my kids -- this seems to happen:

An older woman stops us, puts her hand over her heart and says something like, "Oh, Enjoy every moment. This time goes by so fast."

Everywhere I go, someone is telling me to seize the moment, raise my awareness, be happy, enjoy every second, etc, etc, etc.

I know that this message is right and good. But, I have finally allowed myself to admit that it just doesn't work for me. It bugs me. This CARPE DIEM message makes me paranoid and panicky. Especially during this phase of my life - while I'm raising young kids. Being told, in a million different ways to CARPE DIEM makes me worry that if I'm not in a constant state of intense gratitude and ecstasy, I'm doing something wrong.

I think parenting young children (and old ones, I've heard) is a little like climbing Mount Everest. Brave, adventurous souls try it because they've heard there's magic in the climb. They try because they believe that finishing, or even attempting the climb are impressive accomplishments. They try because during the climb, if they allow themselves to pause and lift their eyes and minds from the pain and drudgery, the views are breathtaking. They try because even though it hurts and it's hard, there are moments that make it worth the hard. These moments are so intense and unique that many people who reach the top start planning, almost immediately, to climb again. Even though any climber will tell you that most of the climb is treacherous, exhausting, killer. That they literally cried most of the way up.

And so I think that if there were people stationed, say, every thirty feet along Mount Everest yelling to the climbers -- "ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF!? IF NOT, YOU SHOULD BE! ONE DAY YOU'LL BE SORRY YOU DIDN'T!" TRUST US!! IT'LL BE OVER TOO SOON! CARPE DIEM!" -- those well-meaning, nostalgic cheerleaders might be physically thrown from the mountain.

Now. I'm not suggesting that the sweet old ladies who tell me to ENJOY MYSELF be thrown from a mountain. These are wonderful ladies. Monkees, probably. But last week, a woman approached me in the Target line and said the following: "Sugar, I hope you are enjoying this. I loved every single second of parenting my two girls. Every single moment. These days go by so fast."

At that particular moment, Amma had arranged one of the new bras I was buying on top of her sweater and was sucking a lollipop that she must have found on the ground. She also had three shop-lifted clip-on neon feathers stuck in her hair. She looked exactly like a contestant from Toddlers and Tiaras. I couldn't find Chase anywhere, and Tish was grabbing the pen on the credit card swiper thing WHILE the woman in front of me was trying to use it. And so I just looked at the woman, smiled and said, "Thank you. Yes. Me too. I am enjoying every single moment. Especially this one. Yes. Thank you."

That's not exactly what I wanted to say, though.

There was a famous writer who, when asked if he loved writing, replied, "No. but I love having written." What I wanted to say to this sweet woman was, "Are you sure? Are you sure you don't mean you love having parented?"

I love having written. And I love having parented. My favorite part of each day is when the kids are put to sleep (to bed) and Craig and I sink into the couch to watch some quality TV, like Celebrity Wife Swap, and congratulate each other on a job well done. Or a job done, at least.

Every time I write a post like this, I get emails suggesting that I'm being negative. I have received this particular message four or five times -- G, if you can't handle the three you have, why do you want a fourth?

That one always stings, and I don't think it's quite fair. Parenting is hard. Just like lots of important jobs are hard. Why is it that the second a mother admits that it's hard, people feel the need to suggest that maybe she's not doing it right? Or that she certainly shouldn't add more to her load. Maybe the fact that it's so hard means she IS doing it right...in her own way...and she happens to be honest.

Craig is a software salesman. It's a hard job in this economy. And he comes home each day and talks a little bit about how hard it is. And I don't ever feel the need to suggest that he's not doing it right, or that he's negative for noticing that it's hard, or that maybe he shouldn't even consider taking on more responsibility. And I doubt anybody comes by his office to make sure he's ENJOYING HIMSELF. I doubt his boss peeks in his office and says: "This career stuff...it goes by so fast...ARE YOU ENJOYING EVERY MOMENT IN THERE, CRAIG???? CARPE DIEM, CRAIG!"

My point is this. I used to worry that not only was I failing to do a good enough job at parenting, but that I wasn't enjoying it enough. Double failure. I felt guilty because I wasn't in parental ecstasy every hour of every day and I wasn't MAKING THE MOST OF EVERY MOMENT like the mamas in the parenting magazines seemed to be doing. I felt guilty because honestly, I was tired and cranky and ready for the day to be over quite often. And because I knew that one day, I'd wake up and the kids would be gone, and I'd be the old lady in the grocery store with my hand over my heart. Would I be able to say I enjoyed every moment? No.

But the fact remains that I will be that nostalgic lady. I just hope to be one with a clear memory. And here's what I hope to say to the younger mama gritting her teeth in line:

"It's helluva hard, isn't it? You're a good mom, I can tell. And I like your kids, especially that one peeing in the corner. She's my favorite. Carry on, warrior. Six hours till bedtime." And hopefully, every once in a while, I'll add -- "Let me pick up that grocery bill for ya, sister. Go put those kids in the van and pull on up -- I'll have them bring your groceries out."

Anyway. Clearly, Carpe Diem doesn't work for me. I can't even carpe fifteen minutes in a row, so a whole diem is out of the question.

Here's what does work for me:

There are two different types of time. Chronos time is what we live in. It's regular time, it's one minute at a time, it's staring down the clock till bedtime time, it's ten excruciating minutes in the Target line time, it's four screaming minutes in time out time, it's two hours till daddy gets home time. Chronos is the hard, slow passing time we parents often live in.

Then there's Kairos time. Kairos is God's time. It's time outside of time. It's metaphysical time. It's those magical moments in which time stands still. I have a few of those moments each day. And I cherish them.

Like when I actually stop what I'm doing and really look at Tish. I notice how perfectly smooth and brownish her skin is. I notice the perfect curves of her teeny elf mouth and her asianish brown eyes, and I breathe in her soft Tishy smell. In these moments, I see that her mouth is moving but I can't hear her because all I can think is -- This is the first time I've really seen Tish all day, and my God -- she is so beautiful. Kairos.

Like when I'm stuck in chronos time in the grocery line and I'm haggard and annoyed and angry at the slow check-out clerk. And then I look at my cart and I'm transported out of chronos. And suddenly I notice the piles and piles of healthy food I'll feed my children to grow their bodies and minds and I remember that most of the world's mamas would kill for this opportunity. This chance to stand in a grocery line with enough money to pay. And I just stare at my cart. At the abundance. The bounty. Thank you, God. Kairos.

Or when I curl up in my cozy bed with Theo asleep at my feet and Craig asleep by my side and I listen to them both breathing. And for a moment, I think- how did a girl like me get so lucky? To go to bed each night surrounded by this breath, this love, this peace, this warmth? Kairos.

These kairos moments leave as fast as they come- but I mark them. I say the word kairos in my head each time I leave chronos. And at the end of the day, I don't remember exactly what my kairos moments were, but I remember I had them. And that makes the pain of the daily parenting climb worth it.

If I had a couple Kairos moments during the day, I call it a success.

Carpe a couple of Kairoses a day.

Good enough for me.

SO... I'm curious to hear what the rest of you moms out there think! Carpe Diem? Or Don't Carpe Diem? Chronos or Kairos time?

Hat

If you hear Cole saying something like "Haa haa" it could mean one of two things.

It's hot. (Or cold... the kid can't figure out the difference unless he's pointing at the oven or my flat iron in which case he does know they're hot).

Or he wants a hat.
It's confusing. We're hoping his speech improves before he's 16.

Today though, "haa haa" meant hat. And if the hat you happen to find is your dad's that makes it even better.

Houston we have a problem

We have a serious problem around here.

He's best described as a defiant, toe-head with a dimply grin, and contagious laugh. He's also obsessed with shoes (like his father) and prefers to run around the house stark-naked, destroying everything in his path. Then sucking up to his mother by looking at her with those bright, blue eyes, saying "Mammma" and snuggling in for kisses.

Suck up.

Back to my point though. The problem. Sleeping is a nightmare. Cole used to be great at bedtime. We'd lay him down, tell him "night-night," and close the door. He'd fall asleep without any squeals or fuss. But that was before we moved him and Pearl into one room.

Now it's at least an hour-long process to get him to sleep. We haven't changed our bedtime routine at all and yet, Cole screams the second we put him in his crib. On a positive note, Pearl has gone from trying to avoid bed at all costs to cooperative angel now that she doesn't have to be alone. One night, after two hours of listening to him scream, "Mammmma!!!" Jeff looked over at me and I simply said, "I really don't know what to do." We've resorted to having Jeff lay on the floor next to his crib, holding his hand or foot until one or both of them fall asleep. If you try to sneak out before he's asleep, the screaming starts all over again. And that's just when you put him to sleep! He started waking up in the middle of the night and with the potential to wake up Pearl if we let him cry it out, I end up putting him in bed with us.

We had no idea the transition to a new room would be so hard for him. I'm not sure if it's because the room isn't quite as dark as his old room, having to share with his sister, new noises, the cold (our poor kids, they are in the coldest room of the house), or the fact that his new bedroom was once the off-limits playroom to destroy. After three weeks, I thought we'd be past this hurdle and back to our pleasant bedtime routine. Or maybe it's a developmental stage thing or not being tough enough as parents. What I do know is, we need help. Any suggestions on getting Cole back to his old bedtime pleasantries?

And once you figure the whole sleeping thing out for me, can you tell me how to convince my kids that the couch is NOT a trampoline?Ok, fine. I give in to their pleadings to play on the cushions. Sometimes it's not worth the battle of finding something "fun" to do. Plus, they seem to have so much fun.

UPDATE: As of a couple days ago, Cole is sleeping through the night. Apparently Jeff had a stern talking to with Fern and laid down the law. Some threats were issued, tears were shed, and bottom lips quivered. But it worked! Now both kids go to bed at the same time and everyone wakes up much happier.