Why I Should Have Been Born in Spain

I used to read novels for fun.  That was before having kids.  There were a lot of things I used to do for fun that I have given up for lack of time and energy since having kids.  I'm truly OK with most of them.  I don't miss certain things all that much, and I certainly wouldn't trade any one of the children for the ability to go to a bookstore, drink a latte, and browse the bargain books.  I've given up the ability to go take a jog any time of the day I might like, but again, they're all just way too cute to trade in for a svelt physique.  Having three littles and another on the way means that it's a rarity when I can just spend an afternoon shopping for clothing bargains.  If I'm going to go shopping now, I'd much prefer going to Ann Taylor Loft and spend $25 on a pair of quality shorts I know I will wear the heck out of, instead of spending hours at Marshalls rooting for bargains and getting five pairs of shorts for the same price. Anyway, the point is there are certain lifestyle changes I've chosen to make, been forced to make, or am too exhausted not to make, and it's really OK. 

One lifestyle change I have not given up is my afternoon nap...and I'm going to finally publicly say here and now...I'M NOT SORRY!  It doesn't seem to matter how restful or crazy my morning is or whether I'm pregnant or not, I need a nap at 1:00 or so.  Sometimes just 20 minutes will get me through the rest of the day, but if I miss that nap, I go from Donna Reed to Mommy Dearest...well, let's not overstate things...while I don't prefer wire hangers, I'll let that slide.  My point is that I feel rotten and much less patient if I'm not given a chance to recharge. 

I've spent a number of years rather sheepish about the fact that I need an afternoon nap.  I mean, I'm not a child.  I get a good night's sleep most nights.  I take my multivitamin, am not addicted to drugs or alcohol, and eat fairly healthy.  And I need a nap.  I should have been born in Spain where everyone has a little siesta time and no one judges anyone for taking the break.  I'm lucky now because Xavier's nap jives with mine, and the big kids are really good at entertaining each other, so they usually leave me alone.  Usually.  Sometimes, my bedroom becomes Mater's car wash or Madeline's school.  But the kids quickly move on when Mommy groans her distaste for their choice of play venue.  Sometimes, I just spoon with the kids on the couch while they watch a show or two.  I've gotten really good at sleeping through Pocoyo.  Something about that British narrator's voice is very soothing.  And Mikey makes an amazingly cuddly teddy bear for such a skinny little fart.  I used to be a much lighter sleeper, needing absolute quiet to sleep, but things change with three little ones in the house.  Today, the kids were playing in the living room while Mike hung up ten pictures on the wall in the breakfast nook.  In our new open-concept house, that's all the same room really.  I crashed on the couch for a second...just a second...I heard him hammer in maybe three nails.  And then I must've blacked out.  When he woke me because he had to leave, I realized he had hung all of the pictures, the baby had gotten up, and for all I knew a tornado had taken off the roof.  I wasn't sure where I was...maybe Oz?  There were munchkins.  Yes, it could be Oz.  Is that a lollipop from the lollipop guild stuck in my hair?  Yes, it must be Oz.  Sigh, I finally figured out where I was just in time to be in charge of all three of them.  Luckily, I was well rested and ready to go.

So, yeah, if you call me between 1 and 3, there's a chance that I could answer the phone sounding like you woke me up...because you probably did.  I used to act embarrassed and say, "Oh, no, I was just lying down to rest for a minute," but now that I've made it so public, I'm going to let you know what dream you interrupted.  ;) 

Vote for Me: My Mommy Platform

I've decided that none of these guys running for office really represent the issues that I care about.  I mean, yes, yes, we need to take care of the whole Middle East war situation.  (I truly believe that if they just sent a mom of preschoolers over there, she could help them resolve the conflict.  We're the most practiced in conflict resolution.  I spend about 63.25 percent of my day saying things like, "Can you think of a solution that will make you both happy?"  And they come up with remarkably clever solutions).  And yes, yes, the economy needs more than just a little attention. (Again, mothers are uniquely equipped to handle that, too.  Who else can make the last $5 last an extra five days before pay day?  While most would look into my fridge or pantry and see no prospects for dinner, I can create masterpieces out of slightly stale bread, a few eggs, and the spice rack). But come on, on a day-to-day basis, I'm worried about other things.  If you are, too, then consider casting your vote for me in November!  Here's my platform:

-Teachers will no longer be permitted to reward children for good behavior with trinkets, nor will other parents be permitted to disperse similar trinkets to children at birthday parties.  If they persist, they must create a way to use these choking hazards, tripping hazards, and clutter into an alternative energy source.

-Makers of children's television programs who use high-pitched or goofy voices must cease and desist.  There is no reason Elmo couldn't teach letters, shapes, and numbers and sound like Colin Firth.  PBS, if you want government money, make it happen.

-Girl Scouts must begin selling their cookies after Lent.  Really, come now, girls.  Too much government?  Too much temptation, I say.

-Clothing makers will be given tax incentives to create a stylish, chic, flattering, dressy yoga pant.  We have the technology, ladies.

-A public service campaign will promote the sexy attributes of the minivan.  Sienna, you had me at Swagger Wagon.

-A new federal agency will be created, NAN (Nannies as Needed) and will provide child care on an as-needed basis.  Needs include:  a latte, a ballet flat, an emergency pre-menstrual organization of a closet.

-And last but not least...what you all have been waiting for...tummy tucks will become illegal.  An appreciation for the post-pregnancy belly pooch will spread nationwide.  Flat-bellied models, enjoy a thin mint or two.  And vote for me!

Confessions of a Guilty Mom Conscience

I recently saw a quote somewhere that I posted on Facebook that said something like the reason that we can become insecure is that we compare our private moments to the moments that others make public.  So, if I compare my DiGiorno pizza nights to the gourmet meal that you made once this year and mentioned on Facebook, I become insecure thinking that all I ever serve my family is processed frozen foods, while you are introducing your children to arugula, and they love it!  What I don't know is that you made mac and cheese from a box six out of the last seven days and the only thing close to a vegetable your child has eaten in the last month was some string cheese that had turned green in her lunchbox.  Now that would help my self-esteem!  More status updates about that, please!

So, because I love you all very much and want to make sure that you feel good about yourselves, here are some honest mothering moments that I'd like to openly confess here. 

When no one is looking, I let my kids eat things that fell on the floor.  Come on, they drop half of their lunch.  I can't afford to throw all of that away.

Xavier's diapers leak more than I'd like to admit.  I change his sheets and pants maaaaybe 25% of the time when that happens.  Maaaybe.

Sometimes, the kids have dessert after lunch.  Sometimes, Mike offers to take them off my hands to the ice cream store after that happens when he doesn't know that they've already partaken of said treat.  Sometimes, I just fail to mention it.  Soometimes, I do tell him, and we agree to do it anyway. 

The kids still sleep with sippy cups in their beds with water.  How often do those have to be washed?  It IS just water after all.

I laugh when my kids fart.

I give Xavier Cheerios about 18 times a day (only slight exaggeration) to contain him, entertain him, or calm him down.  Those cheeks and thighs don't maintain themselves.

When the baby naps, I regularly turn on Pocoyo and take a nap on the couch while it plays.  Pocoyo is surprisingly soothing and easy to fall asleep to.  On days when I don't turn the T.V. on, (I miss its glow) and feel compelled to brag about it...'cause it's pretty darn rare.

I bribe my children more often than I'd like to admit to behave at Target by buying them junk from the dollar section.  If I had just saved up all of those dollars, I'm sure I could make a decent dent in the national debt.

My two minute warnings turn into twenty if I get into a good conversation with another mom.  A two minute warning can also actually be thirty seconds if I'm in a hurry. 

Oh, and I REALLY laugh when the kids fart in the bathtub.

I'm sure I could go on and on, but I'm starting to feel insecure about deciding to make these confessions in the first place.  I'd be very pleased if you'd post a confession or two of your own and help improve my self-image.

Tooth Fairy Tales

I took Celia to the dentist for the first time today, and she cried and only got half of her teeth cleaned.  She stayed and watched the hygienist torture her mother for another half hour after that.  Apparently, they have all kinds of new high-tech tools since I last visited a year ago.  One of them shoots water onto your teeth and gums at a speed that I'm quite sure would remove paint from my car.  I hoped that Celia didn't notice me clenching my hands together ever more tightly as the sweet, young hygienist educated my daughter all about oral health.  I totally appreciated the way she took the time to teach her so much and to just entertain her by asking her questions about her brothers, pet, favorite color, and other inane things that five year olds enjoy sharing.  But I kept thinking, "Does this 12 year old know what she's doing?  Is she looking at my cute little girl or at my gums which feel like they've been tazed?  Should I tell her that I have a high tolerance for pain, but she's pushing the limits or should I endure quietly so as not to give my already frightened daughter more fuel for not returning to the dentist than she already has?"  I opted to tough it out, offer it up, and hope that Celia would think that Mr. Thirsty looked super awesome draped over my right cheek slurping up my drool.

I was so pleased yesterday that I had finally gotten Celia feeling comfortable about going to the dentist.  All she had to do was let the nice lady brush her teeth and let the dentist count them.  We'd read the Dora book over and over.  She knew the names of all of the tools.  She was set.  Oh, and the treasure box was a lovely bit of motivation that our lovely dentist's office has built in.  But something happened when she sat down in that moving chair.  She panicked.  Her tiny little body, wrapped in stripy leggings, cute red sunglasses propped up on her nose so the light wouldn't be too bright in her eyes, she just cracked.  We talked her into letting the nice lady brush one tooth, but that toothbrush didn't look anything like her awesome Barbie light-up brush at home.  And the bubble gum toothpaste?  Not a big selling point for a little girl who has never been allowed to chew gum because...um...duh..it's BAD FOR YOUR TEETH!  She was scared to death of the bubble gum toothpaste.  But she overcame her fear for a moment while the hygienist polished her bottom teeth.  Then Mr. Thirsty came out.  Mr. Thirsty...cute name, right?  That's what my dentist called it when I was little.  This sweet hygienist...who is 12, I'm sure of it...called it Mr. Suction.  Really?  REALLY?  Not so friendly.  It wouldn't have mattered.  She was already climbing out of the chair, which was tricky to do, since she was on top of me.  That's right...I was lying there under her for all of this nonsense.  Where were my super cool sunglasses?  That light IS bright!  Anyway, after lots of reassurances and more tears, we abandoned all hope that her top teeth would be polished this trip.  She was way too upset. The dentist was fantastic, just using his eyes to count her teeth.  She was OK with that.  He even managed to put the little mirror into her mouth to see the top ones.  He was so gentle and kind.  He reported that he saw no cavities.  I guess he could tell by just looking. And 99 bucks later, she has a half clean mouth and a new toothbrush.

So, my question is, how do I convince her to go back in six months and not be freaked out?  I mean, she knows what they're going to do.  And holy cow...if she ever has a cavity, I can't tell her that it's not going to be scary or hurt at all.  Getting a filling freaks my freak, too!  There are so many things that she's scared of that are really just silly.  I can get her past being nervous about a scary guy in a movie.  "It's just an actor in make-up.  Just pretend.  No, he's not in the world."  But then she follows up with questions like, "Are there real bad guys in the world?"  And so I have to tell the truth, right?  The truth will set you free?  Honesty is the best policy.  What a tangled web and all that.  But I can give her the truth with a spoonful of mommy love and reassurance, right?  "Yes, there are some people in the world who do bad things, but you are very safe in this house.  You have nothing to worry about here.  Mommy and Daddy will keep you safe."  And she smiles sweetly and relaxes into my arms.

But what about this whole growing up business?  She has to get shots sometimes.  And she'll have to go back to the dentist who now uses a pressure washer on people's gums!  And she'll have to endure mean girls at school one day.  And one day someone she loves will get terribly sick.  I'm so very in love with all three of my babies.  The thought of them being scared or hurt just devastates me.  But that's part of my job now, isn't it?  It's my job not to avoid those times but to coach them through those moments.  Not to excuse them from participating but teaching them to patiently endure for the good outcome on the other side of it. 

"More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope."  (Romans 5:3-4)  I want my children to be people of good character, people with hope.  And I am pretty sure that doesn't happen without overcoming adversity first.  The dentist's chair is just one step in a lifetime of tough obstacles to overcome, both for Celia and her mama.  But with God's help, we'll learn together to brave the scary dental tools...and the mean girls in school...and whatever else life has in store for us.  I'll tell ya, that girl is quite the character already, but I can't wait to see what kind of amazing woman of character she becomes.  Even if she is a woman of character with some pretty scuzzy teeth.

Knock Knock...Doo Da?!

Celia and Mikey have discovered the wonderful world of knock-knock jokes.  God help us all.  I made the mistake of teaching them the Interrupting Cow joke one day.  You know, "Knock, knock.  Who's there?  Interrupting cow.  Interrupting cow...MOOOO!"  They finally got the comic timing down on that one, so it's actually funny...to someone hearing it for the first time.  For a long time, Mikey would just moo after someone said, "Interrupting cow who?"  And that was just confusing.  Anyway, they sometimes shake it up by being an interruping duck, cat, or zebra (also confusing).  But what they really like to do (and this is no surprise to anyone with preschoolers) is make up jokes that make no sense.  They laugh at themselves like they should have their own late-night show or something, while I stand by shaking my head and trying to muster a fake guffaw.  Even Mikey has started imitating my fake laugh after jokes.  Now, THAT's funny!  The nonsense jokes often go something like, "Knock knock.  Who's there?  Car.  Car who?  Car on your head that fell in the cereal and landed on the floor and then poo pooed!"  You see my problem.

Anyway, a truly hilarious side effect of all of these horrible jokes is that Xavier is actually starting to mimic them.  To this point, at 11 months, he really just babbles a bit, saying, "Mamama" when he's upset and "Dadadada" when he's happy.  Yeah, that's right.  That's the thanks I get for changing 99% of his diapers.  Sigh.  Anyway, it's cute and sweet.  But back to the jokes.  Celia and Mikey probably say, "Knock knock.  Who's there?"  more than anything said in this house except maybe, "Mooooom, it's MY turn!"  So, Xavier has started picking up on it.  When the big kids say, "Knock knock," Xavier replies with "Doo Dah?" with perfect inflection, clearly trying to say, "Who's there?"  It's really just about the cutest thing ever.  No really.   Those pictures of puppies and kittens cuddling...forget it...they're a pile of garbage compared to my adorable son trying to get in on the joke!

Celia's first word was cat.  She came downstairs with me every morning and we greeted our pet cat Roma.  Mikey's first word was book...well, really it was guk, but we knew what he meant.  It would crack me up if Xavier works out "Who's there?" as his first word.  And it makes me wonder what other unusual firsts he might have with his early childhood influenced by his crazy siblings.  What will he be motivated by for his first steps?  Probably Mikey encouraging him to come and see the monster poop he made in the potty.  Sigh...sad but true...the kid is amazed by his own...umm...projects.  His first tooth will probably make its appearance when Celia encourages him to take a nibble of her "Mr. Torty Head" sandwich.  (She likes to roll up lunch meat and cheese in a tortilla.  They were inspired by Toy Story 3 to name the sandwich Mr. Tortilla Head but mispronounce it.  If you don't understand the reference, please come to my house and watch the movie with my children while I go shopping).  So, yeah, I'm eager to see what other fun and funny influences the big 'uns have on the little 'un.

While I may not get the humor, Xavier thinks his big brother and sister are the funniest two people on the planet.  I have to work pretty hard tickling just the right spots, making silly faces.  But Celia and Mikey have his number.  Celia can just open her eyes really wide, and he'll crack up.  Mikey has this frenetic dance that sends Xavier into hysterics.  Wait til they're all teenagers and get the same jokes that I don't have a clue of the reference. I'm getting a little taste already. 

Top 10 Inventions Mothers Would Invent if We Had the Time

At least a dozen times a day, I think, "Hey, there should be a thingy that does that for you!  I should invent that.  Other mothers would love it, and I'd be rich!"  But then Mother-Brain sets in and I promptly forget what the great idea was until the problem that initiated the idea in the first place presents itself the next day.  And the cycle repeats.  By the way, for anyone who is a mother, you immediately said, "Ah, yes, Mother-Brain.  I understand completely."  And for those of you who can't relate, let me elaborate on my theory of this oft-misunderstood malady.  Mother-Brain is a condition that often starts during pregancy.  You see, the blood that used to flow to a mother's brain to help her get through studying for the bar, make a brilliant speech in front of brilliant business people, or in my case explain iambic pentameter, is now flowing to the baby who will some day be able to do all of those things...but the mother will never be able to do those things with quite the same gusto.  Why?  She transferred the gusto to the baby.  Now, many moms go on to do great things, mind you.  But my theory is that it requires a whole different energy source than before.  It might be caffeine or chocolate or well, I don't know what others use, but I use caffeine and chocolate.  And the energy to the brain problem doesn't end when the baby's born.  Oh no.  The sleep deprevation depletes even more brain cells, making it doubly challenging to express thoughts in a cohesive manner...or really even have cohesive thoughts to begin with.  And once they sleep through the night, that cures the problem, right?  Oh no, dear friends, that's when the constant barrage of questions comes.  "Mom, why are frogs green?  Why can't I have corn dogs for breakfast?  What happens when you flush the potty?  What are germs?  Does God have hair?  Where are my pants?"  Why, I've used up every ounce of brainpower before 7:30 AM! 

But if I did have the energy to put together a pitch to a gadget company of some sort.  Here are the ideas I've come up with so far.

10.  Swiffer Sleeper:  Make a baby sleeper out of Swiffer material so when the baby learns to crawl, especially if he belly crawls like Xavier, your floors are clean and shiny with little to no effort on your part!

9.  Step Stool Beeper:  This device would detect motion and beep when you come within a couple of feet of the step stool.  So, when you're carrying a baby in the middle of the night, and you're not looking down, you won't run into the blasted step stool that's been left in the hallway for God knows what reason leaving yet another bruise on your shins.  Step Stool Beeper.  Don't laugh...you'll have one soon.

8.  Ipod/Baby Swing:  You can plug in your Ipod and play your favorite music while your baby swings rather than listen to that incessant twinkly lullaby music over and over and over and over and...three kids later...I'm over the twinkly tunes.  And how cool would it be to have your kids singing along with their sweet little voices to Lady Gaga?  OK, I admit, I haven't listened to any actual new music on the radio or anywhere else in so long, I don't even have a cool band in mind to refer to.  I think Lady Gaga sings...right?  ;)

7.  Creative Compliments App:  This app (ap?) would provide interesting ways to tell your kid they did a great job on their artwork, somersault, singing, counting, bike riding, dancing, pooping, etc.  "Good job" is just so vague and uninspiring.  But when you're worn out and the somersault was just OK, it's tough to really flex your lexicon.

6.  A Polite Comment T-Shirt:  There are times when I'm just tired of politely saying, "I sure do," and smiling when I'm told for the 18th time on my trip to Target that "I sure do have my hands full."  I know people don't realize that it's tiresome and unoriginal, so I don't want to give a rude retort.  And someone recently recommended saying, "Yes, but my heart is fuller!"  But I just can't say that with a straight face...however true it might be.  I'd prefer just having a T-shirt that says what I usually say myself those 18 times, "Yes, I do have my hands full, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

5.  A Tough-Mom Voice Recording:  There are a lot of moments when I think I'm being tough with my kids, but they're just not getting it and keep asking for what I've said no to.  But when I really listen to the sound of my own voice, I realize that it's way too sweet.  And when I try to sound really tough, I just yell and sound like a loon and scare Celia.  Mikey is typically unmoved by my over-the-edge mom voice.  Xavier typically shoves more puffs into his mouth.  So, I'd really like to be able to push a button on a machine that says in a firm, forceful, in control voice, maybe one with a British accent...that always makes things sound more official..."Mommy said no and she meant it.  Now mind your mommy."

4.  One-Step-Hair-And-Make-Up-Mask:  There are days now and again...like Monday-Friday...when it's tough to fit in doing my own hair and make-up.  And while I totally and completely believe in the idea that moms have to take care of themselves so that we can take care of our loved ones, reality is that sometimes Mommy chooses to sleep an extra 15 minutes to take care of herself instead of looking glam.  So, I propose a mask that has hair and make-up completely done on those days when yeah, it just ain't happenin'.

3.  Robotic Car Seat:  I get that car seat straps have to be tough enough to undo that kids can't just get out and hang out the sun roof, but it's a shame that they're also so hard to latch.  I calculate that I would save 1.7 million minutes a year if my kids could strap themselves into their own car seats.  Enter robotic car seat.  Patent pending.

2.  No Leak Juice Boxes:  Capri Suns are not welcome in my home.  I don't want to talk about it.  So, we've just started allowing juice boxes for snack time at school.  But really?  Et tu, juice box?  Why must they have bendy straws?  The kids pick up the box, and the strength of their baby grips is enough to squirt out the juice onto the Mater picture on the box, the Lightning McQueen picture on the shirt, and the Pixar logo on the shoes.  There has to be a stronger material to make those boxes out of.  There's got to be!  I believe that we have the technology.

1.  The Never-Ending Paper Towel Roll:  I'm sorry, Mother Earth.  I love you.  I recycle.  I take canvas bags to the grocery store.  I thought about walking the kids to school once.  But I draw the line at not using paper towels.  I love a good, strong, durable, absorbant paper towel.  I tried the ones recycled from old cardboard boxes or something, but I had to use ten of them to make up for their cheapness.  So, I get the good ones.  But seriously, with three little ones, I can go through a roll in about a hour and a half.  Between the Cheerio slurry that Xavier creates, Celia's near-constant artistic endeavors, and Mikey's drippy apple sauce episodes, we're not so earth friendly.  My new product will be the water jug delivery guy equivilant to paper towels.  But you'll have your own paper towel fairy who lives in the cupboard (that's right...I went with cupboard...no self respecting fairy would be caught dead in a cabinet...too bourgeois) and when she notices you've run out of towels, she'll pop another roll on for you right away!  And for an additional $9.95, she'll create clever art projects out of those empty paper towel rolls.

OK, so there are my ideas!  None are patented yet, so have at 'em.  I'll never get around to doing anything with them anyway.

Pee, Poop, and Goldfish Crackers

You know it's a Saturday night in the South (yes, I consider Tallahassee a part of the South, although most folks don't count Florida as such...Tallahassee is really south Georgia but it got lost and refused to ask for directions) when you get out of the shower and find your husband on the couch watching his favorite college football team on his laptop, his second favorite team on the big screen, and checking his Blackberry for other scores, all at the same time.  He politely offered me the T.V., but it was a great opportunity for me to get some scrapbooking done and he just looked so happy, I couldn't upset that lovely balance.  I finished as much scrapbooking as I had the enthusiasm for and thought I'd play around on-line.  I opened up Pinterest, my new Internet obsession, found a cool crafty coaster idea that I thought I'd send to my lovely and talented sister Beth, when I couldn't find her name on my list of people I follow.  Gasp!  Beth's the one who hooked me on this thing, and now she's given it up?!  She recently mentioned to me that she felt like the computer was a terrible time suck in her life and she was attempting to spend less time on it and more time getting things done like spending time with her sweet babies.  It got me to thinking about simplifying and what things I could scrap and be a little happier.

One of the commercials that was on during one of the football games (one of the seventeen that seem to be on at the same time...every time I look up there are different colors on the screen) said something about how many thoughts a person has a minute or something like that.  I joked to Mike that I have about three thoughts a day and they're all about pee, poop, and food.  Who needs to go potty?  Who is hungry?  Am I hungry?  When's the last time I peed?  And by the way, what's up with my children's new obsession with going to the bathroom with me every time I say I'm going.  Maybe I should announce that I'm going to the other room to eat broccoli, take a bag of it, and have five minutes of peace.  I'll have to try that.  Anyway, I digress.  Since becoming a mother, certain parts of life seem way more complicated than they used to be, like getting in and out of vehicles to go into stores.  But other things have gotten way simpler.  I used to spend a lot of time fretting over the future, over whether or not I'd ever find "the one."  I also spent more time that I'd like to admit organizing closets, arranging books on shelves, and shopping for deals on decorations inspired by HGTV shows, trying to make the house look like a magazine but not something I ever did anything in.  I'd even prop up the most difficult-looking piece of piano music on the piano to make it look like I was more talented than I am, which is not at all. 

Now that I've got three little ones, four years old and under, I spend very little if any of my day fretting about whether I'm living up to my full potential as a person.  I don't read self-help books focusing on whether I'm living my passion.  I don't mind so much if the house looks lived in.  I'm thrilled, in fact, that I finally have a full house of busy little humans making messes and living it up!  Yes, there are scuff marks on the wall, something they'd never tolerate in a decorating magazine.  And my linoleum floors aren't what a designer would choose, but man, are they easy to clean. I'm just happy to keep things simple. 

When we were trying to sell our townhome, we eliminated a bunch of the pictures and knick knacks to de-personalize it for showings, and I have to say, I loved not having to move those things around when I dusted, so we haven't put many of those things out once we moved.  I still enjoy the decorating shows, but I'm drawn to the streamlined designs now that seem efficient and kid-friendly. 

I'm interested in growing as a person and being creative, but I have to keep that side of life simple, too, or else I won't have time for what's really important, and that's having energy to keep up with my kiddos.  I'm taking a class at church, and it's great, but it's once a week and there's no homework.  That's doable!  I'm reading a book for pleasure, but it may take me three months to get through it, and that's OK.  I'm enjoying getting together with friends once a month or so to scrapbook, a great creative outlet for me, but if it takes me til Xavier is 2 to get his baby book done, that' fine, too.  I'm only doing the baby book, not one for each year of each kids' life, or I'd be overwhelmed and grumpy. 

Trying to keep up with three preschoolers is exhausting enough as it is.  I want to be present for them in these precious times I have with them.  Everyone keeps reminding me how fast the time passes.  These are all people with much older children, who know how it feels in retrospect.  I tell you some days seem to last an eternity, but I try to remember to savor those simple moments.  Here are the highlights from just one day of simple moments that I'm glad I was present to experience:

-Mikey dressing as Spiderman for our trip to Target and getting smiles and comments from children and adults alike.

-Celia making up a song about a princess eating a cookie and just belting it out with the passion of a televangelist as we drove in the van.

-Xavier pulling up on the little rocking chair that was Mike's when he was a little boy and just grinning up at us like he'd climbed Mt. Everest.

-Mikey insisting on giving me exactly three hugs and three kisses at bedtime, often kissing my belly or arm instead of my cheek...I'll take it!

-Celia making a new friend in the play zone at (you guessed it) Chick-Fil-A.  She makes friends more easily than anyone I've ever seen.  I envy that.

-Xavier splashing in the bubbles in the bathtub...there's nothing cuter than a chubby baby covered in bubbles.  Oh, maybe his baby buns covered in bubbles...that's cuter.

Yeah, I don't miss all the other clutter that used to fill up my brain on a daily basis.  I'm content to just focus on who needs to use the bathroom next and who needs their ration of Goldfish.  I'll read philosophy books another day.