The Seven-Legged Octopus

Xavier was baptized a few weeks ago and my parents gave him the cutest towel with his name stitched on it and a sassy eye-patch-wearing octopus. It's hanging in the kids' bathroom across from the toilet, and I think it's just adorable. I noticed the other day as I was counting its legs that it is missing a leg. Maybe the leg is supposed to be behind the octopus. I'm sure if a person took a photo of an octopus it would be hard to capture all eight legs in the shot. But it frustrates me that what could have been a learning tool is ruined, just ruined, by the missing leg! Well, Celia asked today how many legs an octopus had and started counting them, and we had a nice discussion about where his missing leg could be. She seemed only slightly concerned that he had a missing leg. She was more interested in what song to regale me with next. Singing is like her totally favorite potty pass time. "Tomorrow" and "Fly to Who You Are" (or whatever that song is from the Tinkerbell movie) are her favorites.

She makes me laugh often while she's doing her business. Yes, this is too personal and she'll be upset with me someday for sharing her private stories with the world, but it's too hilarious not to share. I've made a concerted effort to use actual names for body parts with the kids. It just seems like a teachable moment to share what things are called when they ask me, so I tell them. Mike isn't so comfortable with that approach and prefers to refer to the boys' bits as a willy. That's fine. But when he went in to fill in on the post-potty assist with Celia the other day, he waited patiently for the final ridiculously over-the-top high and off-key note of "Tomorrow" to end and asked Celia, "Did you wipe your...umm...er...your..." Celia put poor papa out of his misery by filling in the missing word and sang in her most sing-songy Oprah-like voice, "VAGINAAAAAAAAAAAAA?!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Mike and I have developed the ability to snicker to ourselves, giving each other knowing looks in these moments so as not to call attention to why what the kids say is absolutely hysterical, but in that moment, we developed the new ability to burst out in silent laughter as only the parents of preschoolers can.

Important Things I've Learned from my Marmee

I love my Marmee! She is an amazing woman, smart, caring, compassionate, comforting, funny, and faith-filled. Her recent and ongoing battle with lymphoma has reminded me just how strong she is, too. It's amazing to me how someone can tackle something like cancer with complete faith that God's got it handled. What a lesson for every one of us. If God's got that beast under control, then why can't I trust Him with much smaller gremlins? I'm inspired by her upbeat attitude and ability to smile through the whole process. The combination of the smile and the wigs make her the cutest thang that cancer center has ever seen. ;)

By the way, if you're wondering why I refer to my mom as Marmee, it stems from Little Women. The mother of the four strong young women is referred to as Marmee. She is a strong, brave woman, raising her daughters alone while her husband is at war, struggling to stretch the budget while still helping the poor and maintaining her grace and dignity. The term Marmee is a sign of respect and admiration. It's my hope that someday my kids will read the book and decide to nickname me Marmee, too.

Becoming a mom has had me reflecting on what I want my kids to learn from me and what I have learned from my parents. Here's a list of a few things that I've learned from my mother. There are thousands of lessons, but here is just a baker's dozen. And they keep on coming!

13. Keep it even and be fair. Count the jelly beans at Easter and keep it equal. Even if one kid doesn't eat jelly beans, you've been fair, and they can always trade.

12. Get a good case of the giggles every now and then.

11. When taking children on a road trip, stock up on paper dolls and ideas for 20 Questions.

10. Always have ingredients in the house for chocolate peanut butter oatmeal cookies. You never know when you'll have an emergency dessert situation.

9. You can always hem a pair of pants and most skirts. Don't let being short limit your shopping.

8. When you're going to your first boy-girl party and you're shopping for an outfit, don't look at the price tags.

7. A green vegetable should be served at every dinner.

6. Try lots of hobbies/sports/talents out but just do one at a time. Gymnastics or piano lessons but not both at once. A great lesson in balance and simplicity.

5. Write thank you notes when you receive a gift. Always.

4. Visit the elderly when they're alone. Check on people when they're sick. Call friends and don't look at the clock.

3. Old friends are the best friends, but nothing's more important than family.

2. Treat your parents well so that you have no regrets.

1. When mommies pray for their kids, their kids can feel it. God hears them more loudly than all the other prayers in the world.

Papaw Knows Everything

Celia has been obsessed with the new swing in the back yard the past few days. My dad, otherwise known as Papaw, set it up for the kids over the weekend, and the kids can't get enough swinging now. It's great to have something fun for the kids to do outside, but swinging them is tedious for Mommy. Luckily, Mike taught Celia how to pump her little hot dog legs so she can fly on that swing. She is so proud of herself and has asked me twice already to make videos of her swinging to show various family members what a big girl she is and how she's exercising. She kept telling me today that she looked like Tinkerbell. The only connection that I could see between the shapely, blonde, winged Tinkerbell and my cherubic brunette wearing a flowery jumper, mismatched green polka dot bow and ruby slippers was that Celia felt like she was flying. This girl was on a high and Papaw is responsible for this joy.



She knows that her Papaw knows a lot about multitudes of topics and knows how to do just about everything. She knows this because whenever she asks me an unanswerable question about animals, plants, planets...well just about anything...I tell her that we should ask Papaw. And if something is broken or needs to be built, I tell them we should ask Papaw if he can help us. My dad is one handy dude and if he doesn't know how to do it himself, he'll read about it, fiddle with it, and figure it out by golly. And so he gets asked by my sister, mom, and me often to help out with all kinds of tasks from putting in a dimmer switch in each of our dining rooms to constructing puppet theaters to building swingsets for the kids. Oh, and he has a truck, so yeah, he's pretty much Mr. Move-It on top of all the other chores he's qualified to do. And the best thing about him is that he's "tickled to do it!"



So, as Celia was swinging today on her Papaw-installed flying machine, she noticed that her sand box was empty. I went looking for replacement sand in the garage and couldn't find it. When I told her that I didn't know where it was, she said, "Maybe we should call Papaw. He knows everything." I guess I've used the line a few too many times.



I have to say that I remember so many times when my dad knew everything when it came to parenting, too, and I often ask myself how he would have handled a situation. I remember it was Dad telling me that I had to stop sucking my thumb because I'd give myself buck teeth if I didn't. He always had an explanation for why I needed to do things. He never just told me "because I said so." He turned everything into a learning opportunity.

I remember once seeing a plastic fishing worm sitting out on the end table. I was probably about six or seven. I started playing with it, seeing how far a could stretch the wiggly thing. I stretched it just a little bit too far and it snapped apart. Not a kid who got into much trouble, I panicked and placed the worm back where I found it with the two pieces as close together as I could place them so it wasn't immediately obvious that it was broken, I thought. Worried at how disappointed Dad would be, I fled to my room to play and hope for the best. Dad called me into the living room a bit later and said, "Hey, Becky, come here. I want to show you something." I sheepishly re-entered the room. He lit a match and showed me how simple a fix it was. The two plastic halves melted right back together. I was in awe of how smart Daddy was and how he could fix anything.

Now that I'm a parent myself, I still marvel at how much he knows about...well...just about everything. But what impresses me more is how, with seeming ease, he knew that little-miss-never-gets-in-trouble was already punishing herself for the mistake and no more needed to be said about it. He knew that his forgiving actions spoke volumes to me and that I shouldn't be afraid to tell my parents when I'd made a mistake. I could trust them completely to help me make things better and forgive me. As I muddle my way through parenting three tiny tots, I hope to teach them the same lessons. What a great model my parents have been! I have so much to live up to!

Inspired by Laundry

Laundry is a chore that I've never really minded all that much. There's something comforting to me in the warmth of clothes that smell like dryer sheets and organizing them into piles. I do love categorizing things and containerizing them...a strange little quirk of mine. Anyway, lately though, now that there are three little monkeys to keep up with, the laundry duties seem to be ever increasing. One little monkey in particular has an issue with binging his milk all over his bibs, burp cloths, sleepers, sheets, and whatever else might be in his path. I'm not naming any names or anything, but it's a certain chunka-monka who despite his tendancy to lose his lunch, still has the most gorgeous rolls on his thighs and dimples for elbows I have ever seen! But I digress.

So, I spend a lot of time folding the kids' clothes, my clothes, Mike's clothes, the towels...you know the drill. It's becoming less sexy to me to categorize and containerize since it seems a never-ending task. I was inspired the other day by a blog post that a friend posted on Facebook to a friend who was complaining about laundry and have been trying to improve my attitude about folding the clothes and about other chores that I just seem to find tedious and brain-numbingly dull. The mom who wrote that blog entry was also having trouble getting motivated to do this task and she also was finding it difficult to find time to pray. She felt like she was neglecting to pray for her children and husband. Somehow she was inspired to combine the two. Each time she folded a piece of laundry, she prayed for the person to whom it belonged. I love this idea!

So, today, as I was folding the children's mountain of clothes, I shut off the part of my brain that usually grumbles, "Man, why do I have to do this? When do the kids start doing chores? I didn't get a master's degree to be a maid," yada yada yada...insert ungrateful thought here. Instead, I focused on the moment and what each tiny sock, footy pajama, bib, or dress symbolized. My prayers sounded something like this:

As I folded Xavier's bib covered in teddy bears and sporty balls, "Lord, please let Xavier find fun in athletics and help him to be a good sport."

As I bound together Mikey's socks, "Father, please help Mikey to run the good race and be dedicated to you."

As I grouped Celia's girly dresses, "God, please help Celia to celebrate true feminity and the gifts that you give only to women."

The prayers went on from there and made the event a really positive experience for me and hopefully a blessing to the family, too. Now if I can just find a way to turn diaper changes into prayer, I'll be set.

More than Just Status Updates

Several of my friends have really fantastic blogs that share insightful reflections and charming stories of their children. I've considered starting a blog of my own a few times, but I've been hesitant and unsure that I have more to say that what I can blurt out in a Facebook status update. So, I decided that I won't know whether or not it'll be worthwhile or not unless I give it a shot! Here goes!



Mike and I talked about doing a blog called The Baby Dorm when we thought we'd be stuck in our two-bedroom townhome with three babies. Their bedroom would become The Baby Dorm where we'd have to create a triple-high-bunk-crib to fit them all. Happily, we were able to rent out the townhome and rent ourselves a slightly larger place so we fit quite nicely. I liked the name though and often the noisiness, rowdiness, and smelliness of the kids' rooms reminds me of my two semesters at Landis Hall. The Baby Dorm seems to me to be an apt name.



How do bloggers get started? How do you guys pick topics? I should be better at this having taught English for eight years. Should I be doing a brainstorming chart of some kind and narrow down the topic by discussing it with my small group? Perhaps I'll just start with an expansion of a status update that hasn't yet made it to Facebook.



Tonight as we pulled into the Chick-Fil-A parking lot after listening to Laurie Berkner's "Going on a Hunt" for the 8 millionth time today (living further out means that we have even more time to hear the same CD's over and over and over...). I only mention the song playing because there had been no real conversation or musical stimulus to Celia's comment. It just makes me wonder what's going on in her head and how her thoughts grow. Out of nowhere, as I'm untangling her maracas clenched in her hands from the car seat straps, she says, "Nobody's perfect, except God. But everybody's special." She drips these little nuggets of truth now and again and just makes me melt. I proudly smile to myself and think, "Man, I'm doing something right. This kid is so in touch and wise. Being a stay-at-home mom has really made a difference for my children. Gosh, they're lucky to have me. Great genes and a nurturing environment. These kids are destined for greatness." My reverie is quickly interrupted by, "Mommy?" "Yes, my precious angel?" "Poopy poopy foofy!"