A perfect ten

 originally published to Facebook May 19, 2022

If you see this mister around today, wish him happy birthday! He is the big 1-0!!!!

 

 

 

 I’ve always said he was his own brand of magic, from day one, and man….. he still is magical!

 

It’s hard, sharing a birthday with a ghost….. and I don’t mean to be flippant or disrespectful with that term. But it’s true. James and I have such a sweet relationship, and from about age 4, when he could somewhat understand why I wobbled between sadness and joy in the days surrounding his birthday, he has shown me and my emotions nothing but grace. He is so even-tempered, easy to please, quick to forgive.

He never really makes May 19 all about him, in the way we allow and expect little kids to do with their birthdays. He is happy with a bubble tea, a sprinkle donut, some Roblox bucks, and a Chipotle chicken bowl with guac. He is always full of extra snuggles and “I love you’s” and making sure that I’m as happy as he is. He is quick with his wit and humor, and just loves me in the best way on a day I wish could be ALL about him.

 

Most of the time, I’m still baffled that God chose May 19th to be the date of James birth….. I struggle every year with which way the pendulum of my heart swings…. Whose day is it? It’s the one day I want the world to remember Duncan, and it’s the one day I want the world to celebrate James.

Today, though, I’m surprisingly at peace with the balancing act, and a huge part of that is because James is who he is, and he gives me the space to walk this tightrope. This kid truly is magical. If you know him, you know what I mean.

 

If you’re a “This Is Us” fan, you know the significance of the caboose. I’ve been calling James my caboose baby for years. He’s bringing up the rear of my trifecta of kiddos. But I’m getting more settled in the notion “that endings aren’t sad… They’re just the start of the next incredibility beautiful thing.” And James’ life is without a doubt an incredibly beautiful thing.

 

Happy, happy 10th birthday, Smuch. You are my joy, my baby, my heart’s band-aid. You make it easy to celebrate you every day! I hope they let you fire the cannon on your Ft Meigs field trip today. 

 

A Simple Tuesday

Last night: inspired.

Today: writer's block.

Kindle download instead.

Trilogy.  One down.

Second immediately followed.

Afternoon passed, reading.

Air brakes hiss,

trio plus one

invades the quiet.

Novel begrudgingly paused:

must chase dog,

chasing two boys

behind the barn,

over the creek,

into the soybeans,

breaking her boundaries.

Please, no ticks.

Dog, son, friend --

home, albeit dirty.

Burgers, soccer, spelling,

showers, nightlight, kisses.

Sister prompts: blog?

I'd rather read,

but comply instead.

String word triplets

into this post.

Not my finest,

but that's alright.

It is something

to mark today.

A new author.

A quiet afternoon.

Orange tee shirts

on a quest,

puppy in pursuit.

Back-to-back

blog posts published.

Not habitual yet,

but a start.

Unexpected

The things we need most are often the things we never saw coming....

A quiet Sunday, made quieter by the absence of the pre-church frantic hustle.  Raspy coughs and drippy noses suggested that perhaps snuggles and cartoons and unhurried parents would best serve as a healing respite.  So, we snuggled and slowed and savored not being stressed on what is called to be a day of rest.  (Not to mention that we were able, then, to avoid all the congestion from the marathon.)

Lunch, office work, laundry (always), some tattling, some tears.  Play time with the neighbors, photo editing, naptime for the baby.  Errands for daddy, and then...just before my mind turns to dinner and my eyes narrow at the clock and my ear strains to hear whispers from the nursery, he says,

"Why don't you go up to Mayberry for a bit, get a coffee, get away?"

Normally, I excuse the invitation away.  I testify that I'm fine, or, more often than not, that I'm too busy...there is too much to do....I don't have time to "get away," even for a cup of coffee.  I don't let him relieve me.  I don't let him step into solo-parent mode.  Somewhere along the way, I adopted a hidden belief that only I could do it, and by "it," I meant everything.

Someone wise recently told me that the opposite of self-respect was perfectionism.  It took me more than a second to wrap my head around that.  As someone who has long prided herself on being a "perfectionist," I found that insulting.  What would possibly be wrong with striving toward perfectionism, and how in the world did my pursuit of such inhibit self respect?

The more I considered her theory, however, (and I'll admit, there is some context I'm leaving out), the more I realized her words ring true, at least for me.   She asked me to picture how my life would be different if I truly had healthy self-respect, and this is what came to mind:

• I'd let go of the notion that I could do it all
• I'd let go of the notion that I'm the only one who could keep things together for our family
• I'd make time, not excuses, for myself to exercise -- whether that meant going for a long walk/ride, or making time for the gym
• I'd accept the offer of help, or time to myself, whether that offer was from another friend, a family member, Tiffany, or Jim
• I'd stop saying "yes" to things I didn't want to commit to/participate in, merely for fear of disappointing someone else
• I'd let myself enjoy naptime on Mondays, when it's just me and James at home, and let myself watch a show or read a book, instead of frantically doing chores

When I recognized that all the motivation behind those things/behaviors was maintaining my impossible standard of perfection, it was easy to see that I was doing myself a disservice.

So, circling back around to our germy, quiet Sunday.  Jim said, "go, get a coffee."  And you know what?  I said yes.

#ChapterClosed

Yeah, I know.  I'll give you a second to recover from the cuteness overload.

This was Seth's first day of "preschool" (aka Mother's Day Out) in August 2009.

And I blinked, literally, and here I sit, on the eve of his first day of kindergarten.

I'm not overly emotional.  I have mommy-friends all around me who are bombarding Facebook with (forgive me) ultra-sappy e-cards and plagiarized poems about fleeting years and holding back tears as little ones board yellow busses for the first time.

Not so much me.

Seth is beyond ready for the independence that comes tomorrow morning with the bus and the lunch room and the table time and the card behavior system.  He is ready with a capital R.  And so am I.  I'm not a good teacher.  There is a reason I studied journalism, not early childhood education.  These are HARD years to muddle through.  (Trust me; I'm still in the trenches.)  They are not my favorite.  So, on many days, I'm just "OMG get out of the house and go learn forgoodnesssake already!!!"

I can say that, with total honesty, and in the same breath, sit back and analyze and realize that I feel like I failed him in some way.  That I was selfish with my time, and that I didn't make the most of the handful -- literal handful -- of years that I had him all to myself, under my roof, to mold and shape and teach and love.

I didn't wish the years away.  I just feel, in this moment, that I could have done better.  I could have been more intentional.  More influential.  More....well, just more.

And I guess that is the plight of the firstborn.  They are our learning curve.  Our test run.  Our "oh, please just don't let me screw him up too badly" one.

But.  Despite my shortcomings, he is ready.  He is tucked in bed, Bailey under one arm, awash in the glow of a green lava lamp.  And for just one more night, he is just my baby.

Tomorrow, all bets are off....

My parallel life is in Durango, CO

So, y'all.

Mandie.



I've talked about, praised, and linked to her before.  Because she is all sorts of funny and honest and awesome and there are few women more special to me on this across-the-miles-together mommy journey I'm on than she.

She wrote something today, and it is pretty close to verbatim to what I could write about Seth.  I alluded to it yesterday (with the whole "why I want to look him in a tower" reference).

So....since I'm out of original material today, getting all cake-frosted and having giant punch balloons pop in my face and all, I'm just sending you over to her.

Read. Appreciate.  Pray for her.  (And me.  And every other pre-school momma you know with a firstborn son who, OMG, is a hot mess 9 times out of 10 these days.)

And then go back and read some of her archives. Because, seriously, y'all:  FUNNNNNY.

Random mid-May word vomit

• May 9: one year ago today, I had my maternity pictures taken, and was blissfully unaware of the drama that was going to unfold the next day, and in the days to follow.  I can honestly say, it was the last day that things were "normal" for me, and I'm feeling a little melancholic at that revelation.
• Seth's independence and fearlessness is going to get him kidnapped and/or killed.  It is a legitimate fear of mine in recent days.  He has taken to wandering off in stores, leaving the house with no preamble, riding his bike across streets and down through the subdivision.  Please, don't judge.  We are working on finding a solution that doesn't involve locking him in a tower room.  Lord knows, he'd just find a way to dig out/repel down/mentally transport from it, anyway.
• I'm second guessing our decision to have my tubes tied during my c-section last spring.  With James' fast-approaching birthday, I'm painfully aware that my days as a mother to an infant are numbered.  And it's not even that I adore the newborn baby stage; it just feels uncomfortable that I'm going back to a world of tampons and heating pads instead of pregnancy tests and prenatals.
• Tiffany sprained her ankle -- and I use the term "sprain" loosely, as we are still waiting on X-ray findings -- and I'm completely preoccupied with her discomfort.  I want to just make it better, and I can't, and it is a new place to be in for me.  I'm not her mom, so I don't want to hover and belittle and make her feel anything less than able to handle it herself, but man.... even moreso than when Erin had her surgery or when James has had to endure testing, etc., this is a "boo boo" that doesn't have an easy fix or a known end date.
• Jim and I are ships passing in the night, if that.  I have vague recollections of kisses goodnight and goodbye, but mostly, we are exchanging texts and emails regarding all the various details of the balls we have in the air right now.  I'm not sure what we can do in this particular season to reconnect and/or stay connected, but it, too, is weighing on my heart.
• I'm feeling very restless when it comes to all things Duncan related this year.  I don't know what to do/what I want to do to honor his birthday/homegoing.  I know I don't want to ignore it, but I don't know how to approach it, either.  I hate so very much not being near his tree.  So much so that I'm seriously thinking maybe we need to discuss burying his urn and getting a marker....?  I don't know.  I'm really sad that I don't have a "place" to go here in Ohio that feels like "his."
• Random projects and "wants" around our house have me feeling impatient.  I want to fence the backyard, power sand and repaint the front bench, update the chest in the kitchen, make a Lego table to Seth, do something with the builder grade mirror we removed from the upstairs bath, hang the magazine holder in the master bathroom, get our office clutter under control.
• I'm disappointed that I'm taking the time to blog tonight, but not "write," because I'm at that "I don't know where to start" point, and so I'm just throwing words on the screen in an attempt to clear my head.
• Speaking of clearheadedness.....I haven't had it in a while.  So fuzzy.  Everything has been so fuzzy now for a few months, and I don't know if it is just sleep deprivation, the diet change, or what.
• I had dreams about killer tornadoes, unmanned garage sales, and premature births last night.  Have no clue where those came from, and don't have the mental reserves to spend to figure it out.   Actually, just typing that out gives me some insight, and not in a good way.  The mind is an amazing thing, but man, sometimes, it's just too powerful for my liking.
• I learned the definition of the word altruistic this week.
• I felt like a complete yuppie (yuppy?) when I designed and ordered "mommy cards" earlier today, but (a) Tiffany said they're cute, so there's that, and (b) I'm quickly entering a realm of existence when, apparently, these type of things are necessary.  Oy.
• I owe a friend some editorial input on her professional bio.  I need to do it.  I want to do it.  But, man, I just want to sleep.  Or watch the 5 DVR'ed episodes of Glee that are waiting downstairs.
• I've been thrilled to learn that the Giant Eagle generic brand of Cap'n Crunch is gluten free.
• I baked three batches of brownies for James' birthday party today, and have washed my hands countless times, and now they feel all dry and yucky.  Anybody have a recommendation for a good hand cream?

Okay....I don't know that I feel any better, but at least some of what it floating around in my head can now be floating around in yours, too.  Generous, aren't I?

Show and Tell: Dinosaur Week

Seth has a themed show and tell this week, and they have been talking about dinosaurs.

He couldn't decide if he wanted to take his Rex, or show off a pair of his dinosaur socks.

Here is my solution:

And I'm officially the coolest mom ever.  Go, me.

BLTN: Our journey with James

Well, here is the post that is going to necessitate a whole new label over there in the "looking for something" cloud.

-FREE.  (And to clarify, the dash is intentional.  I'll explain in a minute.)

If you scroll back through posts since James' birth -- well, let me rephrase that.  If I had been better about posting regular pictures since James' birth, you'd notice a couple things: that he constantly had scratches all over this face and scalp, or, that we constantly kept his hands covered with baby socks.

What was being passed off as eczema just didn't sit well with me.

And then, the week after Christmas, when James was seven months old, he developed a peri-rectal fissure, and thus began the run around between multiple pediatricians, pediatric gastroenterologists, and allergists.  MRSA, Celiac disease, Crone's disease -- all these and more were tossed out as possible issues our little man was facing.  Blood work, stool samples, ER trips due to abscess ruptures that filled his tiny diapers with blood....  This is what made up our January and February.

And in the midst of it all, the only this we know thus far is that James is moderately (3, on a scale of 1-5) allergic to gluten [but he doesn't have Celiac -- whoohoo!!!], dairy, and peanut.

Boo.  Hiss.

James is still having a lot of digestive and growth issues, so table food is slow going, therefore, he is still at least 80% breastfed.  Which means that, for now, I'm also gluten-, dairy-, and peanut-free.

It bears repeating: BOO.  HISS.

These past three months have been hard.  Frustrating.  Time consuming.  Pizza, chocolate, and ice cream-deprived.

But we are seeing improvement with James in several areas, so we feel we are on the right track.  I'm not loving the approach the doctors are taking, but I have been blessed to have a handful of girlfriends (both local and in the compute -- Hi, Hillary!) who are right there with me in the allergy trenches and who have been amazingly compassionate and supportive as we try to figure this all out.

So, yes, my recipe posts may very well be taking on a gluten and/or dairy free spin, but that's okay.  I'm happy to share the recipes and sites I've found that make this lifestyle a little bit easier.

And, I'm sure it goes without saying.

He is totally worth every sacrifice.

Necessity is a mother, that's for sure

You've heard the adage, right?  "Necessity is the mother of invention"?

Indeed.

All of our little ones have used the crib railing as a teether at one point in time.  Seth, minimally.  Erin, like a deranged beaver.  Seriously.  And James....well, he left his first mark this week.

So.

Why I didn't think of this before hand, I don't know, but I'm feeling pretty proud of myself:

They're repurposed crib sheet savers!  I loved having these in both the crib and pack 'n plays when the kiddos were newborn, but once they were mobile, the usefulness of these kind of tanked.  But, duh!  How perfect is this?!  They are quilted, easy (for me) to get on and off to wash (when they get all drool-y), and don't look too out of place, like some other rail protectors I've seen.

Anyway, I know this is hardly riveting blog fodder, but I'm thrilled that I found a way to reuse something, and not spend any more money on briefly-used baby paraphernalia.  (Especially since I think we are going to need to drop $90+ for some baby gates to block the staircase.  Boo.)

Have you had any "Aha!" moments lately that you want to share?

Every opportunity

Life is messy.  And it isn't always puppies and rainbows and unicorn dust.  My kiddos will learn that soon enough, if they haven't already.

I believe in tough love.  I think there is a time and place for it.  I strive to always be honest with my kids, and not sugarcoat things, even while I work to protect their innocence.

That said....

I want to take every opportunity, now when they are 4 and in years to come when they are 44, to tell them:

I'm proud of you.

You'll figure this out.

You are stronger/smarter/steadier than you think/feel.

I support you.

I will help you figure it out.

I noticed.

I'm not judging, I'm listening.

You can do this.  You CAN.

I'm here for whatever you need.

I love you.  NO MATTER WHAT.

I NEVER want my littles to doubt how much joy I receive from being their momma.  When it's perfect.  When it's not.  And every moment in between.

If being their mother is the only job I ever have, I want to do this one thing well.  My love language is words of affirmation, and while I know that theirs may not be, I know my words will burrow deep into the fiber of their hearts.

So, I strive.  Each day.  To use my words for good. To speak love to and over them.  I want to seize every opportunity I have to let them know I believe in them, and that I'm their biggest fan.  Now.  Always.

10 Things I Learned from Erin’s Surgery: Part I

You would think what with all the time I had to prepare for Erin’s tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy (T&A), I would have waltzed into the experience with nary a care.  After all, I’d been sure we were headed to this point for almost 10 months.  But, alas, when it was all said and done, I realized I knew NOTHING about what this “rite of passage,” if you will, would teach me.

I know several friends who have faced, or are facing a similar procedure, so I made a (not0even close to comprehensive) list of some of the things I learned during our T&A journey.

10. When your little one is scared, it seems to help if you, as the momma, fake bravery.  Even when you aren’t brave; only anxious.  And tired.  Because, man, you have to get to the hospital early for these things!

9.  A good nurse is worth her weight, and then some, in gold.  Or other precious commodity of choice.  The longer we were in triage, the more antsy Erin and I both got.  Our nurse recognized this, and brought over stickers, and a strawberry-scented mask to get Erin used to it.  She was so wonderful, and one of several nurses we would have during our stay that made me, as a momma, feel so much better about this whole thing.

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 8.  No matter how much faith you have, or how reassuring the doctor tries to be, seeing your little one being wheeled away on a gurney will pretty much shatter your heart.  I probably don’t have to elaborate on that point, do I?  Thank goodness that the separation, from this point, until she was back in my arms, was only about an hour.

 
7. You’re going to experience a lot of physical discomfort during recovery.  Erin wanted to be held, or slept with, pretty much ‘round the clock after surgery, and no matter how willing my heart was to accommodate her, man, my body was not up to the task.  I came away with bruises and stiff muscles, and limbs that feel asleep to excruciating degrees.  Oh!  And did I mention being only inches away from her mouth was torture.  Seriously.  No one warns you that post-T&A breath is about the foulest thing you’ll ever smell.  Seriously.  It is SO BAD.  SO BAD.

 
6.  They’re not gonna be themselves. =(  Erin vacillated between being loopy and drugged up from pain meds, to being still and listless due to pain.  She was quiet (because it hurt to talk) and she looked so sad and pathetic, I was often asking the nurse, “is this normal, is she okay?”  And of course I was reassured that it was just the anesthesia wearing off and that she’d be back to normal in no time.  But still, I wasn’t prepared for it.

 
5.  A person can indeed watch entirely too much Nick Jr. in one setting.  OMG, seriously, I watched Team Umizoomi for 8 days straight.  EIGHT.  DAYS.  STRAIGHT.  With only limited breaks….and that was only to switch to the random Bubble Guppies episode.

 
4.  Visiting siblings will have more fun with the hospital toys than the patient.  I shouldn’t have even bothered packing busy items (crayons, puzzles, etc.), or having the candy-stripers bring down rec room toys.  Erin was so miserable that first day, she couldn’t have cared less about playing with anything.

3.  On the chance that your child perks up, and, oh, requests a cheeseburger for dinner, don’t hold your breath…..  Our nurses were SO thrilled with Erin’s desire to drink and eat about 8 hours after surgery.  She was mowing down popsicles and juice cups like nobody’s business, and even asked to have a cheeseburger for dinner.  Yea, Erin!  You’re a rockstar!!!!  Several nurses commented that they NEVER get toddlers to respond this well, since they are usually so overwhelmed by the pain.  I was proud of her, and so thankful that we were on track to be headed home the next day!

 
2. …..because she can go from being the Cheeseburglar Reincarnate, to looking like death warmed over.   This photo pretty much sums up what this experience was really like.  Pale skin.  Sunken eyes.  Matted hair.  And popsicles melting, untouched, into a cup.  In hindsight, I can’t believe they actually let us leave the hospital, because it seems apparent (now) that she was headed for trouble once she was off the good pain meds.

 
1. There may be a point after you’re released that the you-know-what hits the fan.  Or, as the case may be, doesn’t.  Let me explain.  The pain meds that were prescribed for us AT HOME were unacceptable to Erin’s palate, and she WOULD NOT take it.  Ergo, she would/could not swallow.  Ergo, she got dehydrated.  And constipated.  REALLY constipated.  Like, finally passed out on my bathroom floor from the pain and effort of trying to poop.  Oh, it was heartbreaking, and it was at this point, I pretty much knew we were headed back to the hospital.

To be continued….

Thrush

Oh, my.

Thrush.

It is awful.

I'm surviving it.

Maybe when it is behind us, I'll be able to form a coherent sentence about the journey through it.

But for now, let me just go on record to say, I love James; ignorance may not be bliss, but sometimes it is a saving grace; and, I pretty much feel like a rock star mom for persevering through this.

Oh, and by the way, everybody and their mother said, "you have to get gentian violet, it will help SO MUCH."  Great, thanks.  But no one bothered to mention that it is impossible to find.  Grr.  Oh, well.  The meds that James and I are both on seem to be doing the trick, too.

Here's to hoping that happier eats lie ahead!

And PS, Erin still has pneumonia.  Boo, hiss.

Laying low didn't do me any favors

This post is not to complain.  It is to update and document.

I am SO tired.

I have gotten much too little sleep in the last 2 nights.

It is due, in part, to a little mister who did not enjoy spending his three-month-birthday in his newly finished nursery.  Stinker.

It is due more to a little miss whose "cough from Seth" turned into double pneumonia.

We are living on snuggles and Amoxycillin.  And laundry detergent.

Because when said little miss tosses her cookies, repeatedly, in your bed at 6:30 AM, you very much, and post haste, wash your bedding.

Here's to hoping that a delayed start to her preschool year and a relatively quiet week at home will have us getting a good report on Thursday.

Radiator Springs, Dollar Store style

I’ve gotten really, really good at drawing the World grand Prix and Radiator Springs with sidewalk chalk.

Version 001 was at my inlaw’s, and we’ve recreated it twice at home, resulting in hours of outdoor fun.

Yeah, I pretty much get super-mom status for this one. Go, me!

Shaping up

This week has been dichotomous, to say the least.

Monday and Tuesday were rough days for this stay-at-home momma.  While many of my friends were reveling in the fact that they were, for a change, home with their spring break-ing little ones, for me….it was just another start to another week.

Tuesday night found me angrily flipping off the stove dial and walking away from a cooking dinner to sequester myself in my closet.

Seriously.

Nothing profound was bad about the start to the week, despite Seth’s first drawing-on-the-wall-with-markers experience, and Jim being gone from home both Monday and Tuesday nights, and Erin mastering her temper tantrum throwing skills….

But….

I’m pregnant.  VERY pregnant.  And uncomfortable.  And not sleeping well.  And yadda yadda yadda and by 6 pm Tuesday, I’d just had it.

However, miracle of miracles…Wednesday morning came, and although it came in the form of Erin screaming her head off at 5:40 AM, we had a peaceful morning of cartoons and waffles with Rediwhip and sprinkles, followed by grocery shopping, well-behaved and unsupervised (I KNOW!!!) play time in the basement, and then….Erin napped while Seth played across the street at Lucas’ house for 3+ hours, and I baked brownies as a thank you gesture, and the next thing I knew, it was after 4 PM, and that means home stretch til Jim comes home.

Not to mention that Wednesday night, we joined another family for 1/2 price pizza night at a local restaurant followed by ice cream; Thursday will hold storytime and then some mommy-time watching American Idol  with girlfriends (sans my kiddos!); Friday night, Jim scored free tickets to a comedy show, so we get a date night (thank you to my awesome mother-in-law for babysitting!); and then Saturday, we are going out again with two other couples to celebrate Jim’s birthday.  Yipee!!!

So.  What’s the point?

None, really, other than a reminder to me that this sweet life I’m living is ever changing, ever shifting, and as bad as a week can start, it can wrap up pretty darn good. =)

My karate kid

Because we chose to forego any type of preschool or Mothers’ Day Out program this spring, we discussed enrolling Seth in some type of lesson, be it swim, gymnastics, or martial arts.  Karate ended up winning hands down, when the husband of our darling Miss Sara posted on his Facebook wall about an enrollment special he was running at his karate studio.

So, on Monday, we met with Dan to discuss the details, and we left with a gi.

And on Tuesday, Little Mister had his first one-on-one class with his instructor.

Have you ever seen anything so cute?!

Initially, Erin was content to watch from the sidelines, but as you can see from the last picture (I had to put the camera down to go chase her), she wants in on the action, too.

We are going to start twice-a-week classes next week.  I’m excited to get Seth involved, and for him to make some new friends.  And of course, there is the side benefit of getting to hang out with some of my best girls while their firstborns participate as well.

Here’s to a new experience for us all!

4

December 13, 2007.

It wasn’t a good night.

You can read about it here.

I was alone, and I was tired, and I was ready for it all to just be over.  There were a lot of emotions running through this momma-to-be’s heart.  Anxiety.  Love.  Uncertainty. Fear.  Hope.  Fatigue.  Questions.  Confidence.

But all the pain Seth caused me on the eve of his birth was worth it.  In fact, it most likely saved his life – the pain he caused and what I had to endure to resolve the issue at hand.  So, of course, it was worth it.

December 13, 2011.

It wasn’t a good night.

I was alone, and I was tired, and I was ready for it all to be over.  there were a lot of emotions running through this momma’s heart.  Anxiety.  Love.  Uncertainty. Fear.  Hope.  Fatigue.  Questions.  Confidence.

Seth caused me some serious heart-pain on the eve of his fourth birthday.  He is acting out, and while I know it’s in response to Jim being gone, to the the move, to the chaos that we are living daily, to the lack of attention he’s getting from me.  However, his behavior this night was out of control, and he needed to be punished accordingly.

And it got me thinking about the verse in Proverbs 13: “He who spareth the rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him correcteth him betimes” (or, in the more familiar vernacular: “spare the rod, spoil the child.”

I did what I know was right to do in punishing Seth, and I have to believe that it was worth it – that the pain he caused and what I had to do to resolve it may in fact, in the long run, save his life.  Building his character now, even on the eve of turning 4, will serve him his whole lifetime.

On that note, I pray tomorrow is as joyous a day as December 14, 2007.  Granted, at 6:06 pm, I’ll be in choir rehearsal, rather than hearing the sweet cries of my firstborn, and those two hardly compare, but, even still…

Seth, you’re worth it.  You always will be.  I love you so very, very much.

Peanut Butter Perspective

Chances are, he’ll remember the Saturday afternoon in October when we made peanut butter cheesecake.

 
Chances are, I won’t remember the mess he made eating the leftover crust crumbles.

 
(And if, by chance, I do remember the mess, I’m pretty certain…..I’m not gonna care.)

It is finished

I hinted a few weeks ago that we were (fingers crossed) about to declare Seth 100% day-time potty trained.

Well, consider it declared!

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We are accident free for just about a month now, so Daisy – Seth’s much sought after and long-awaited potty training reward – arrived in Greema’s mailbox a couple weeks ago.  And the boy?  Couldn’t be happier.

Just relax

I’ve not had a chance to update all you interpeeps on our poop potty-training progress, and boy, we have made some!

In the last three weeks, we have only had TWO accidents.  One on vacation, and one the week we came home.  After that…..not a single accident.  He is going into the bathroom, on his own, without prompting, to do his #2 business.  Yipee! He even went on his own for his teachers at his new school, which I was totally not expecting!

And beyond that, he hit a major milestone this past week that,  yes, forgive me someday-grown-up-Seth, I’m going to document.  (Seriously, I thought PTing was gonna kill me, so I’m claiming these victories big time!)

Yes, my child needs a certain environment prepared at times to get his business done…

Yes, it includes a pillow.  On the potty.
 

But, hey. I aim to please.  A happy boy (who is comfortable enough to poop in the toilet, instead of on my floor) makes a happy mommy.

 

The smile eventually faded, though, when he realize that something was “off” today.  After about 20 minutes of no action, he looked at me, pleading in his eyes, and said, “Mommy, it just won’t come out.  Will you get it?”

It hurt me to tell him that I couldn’t make it come out any faster, and that he just needed to relax and be patient.  (Seriously, telling that to a three-year-old?  Shoot me now!)

But he listened, and a couple minutes later I peeked in to see this:

And a few minutes later…..the deed was done!

I am SO proud of him, and how far he has come in the last few weeks.  Granted, this process has taken longer than I wanted, and he is a little older than I expected, but…he’s just about got it.  He has 10 more stickers to earn to get his long-awaited Daisy train (who hasn’t been sure she wanted to live here, what with all the poop flying around), and then…I’m gonna consider this little guy officially day-time potty-trained.

And look at that……  I survived.  Who would’ve thought?