A Science Experiment, Mom!

Maggie was playing into my love of learning and science this morning.

Maggie:  "Mom!  We're going to do a science experiment!"

Me:  "Oh, really?  What are you going to do?"

Maggie:  "We're going to take Bode's cars and paint them, and see if they change color!"

Nice try, Mags.  Nice try.

Nature Lover

This past weekend, I recruited Maggie to accompany me on a run (you know - trying to instill a love of being active while she's young).  :)  She was more than happy to come along and we ran and walked for a mile and a half together.

We hadn't made it too far into our run, however, when she observed trash along the side of our path.  She seemed utterly disgusted that people would litter our beautiful world and dedicated the rest of her time to picking up the garbage we came across.  Not wanting to discourage her, I did mention that it would be hard to bring it along since we did not have a garbage bag.  That didn't deter her in the least and instead opted to carry as much as she could before we got to a trash can in Kiddie Park and then reload.

While I know we have talked about not littering (I mean, c'mon, Steve calls me a tree hugger), this is just one more example of all that she is soaking up in Kindergarten.  I love it!

Broken Eggs

Thursday while I was working online with a student, my sweet children opened the door to play outside and our cat bolted for freedom.  This feline becomes quite adept during warmer weather at making escapes. If he was a normal cat, I'm sure this would be no big deal, but once outside, Toby turns into crazy demented demon cat. In the past I've decked out in protective clothing from head to toe and gone after him with a fishing net. Lately, however, I've found that I can simply chase him with a rake until he dashes back inside, with a puffy tail and the most horrible howl I've ever heard.  In fact, it's not uncommon to see me out two or three times a day working to corral this monster despite my constant reminders to the children to "Watch the cat!" as they open the door.

Well this time, since he escaped while I was preoccupied, I couldn't immediately retrieve him. So after I finished with my student I put Brooks in the Baby Bjorn and walked a couple blocks around the radius of our house. Even though I didn't find the cat during this walk (he returned later), the children and I did discover something else -  two broken robin's eggs that must have just fallen out of a nest onto the edge of the private drive leading to the town homes behind our house. As we observed the beautiful blue color of the shells, we thought they would be a perfect addition to the nature table at Maggie's preschool.  Since they were yolky and I was carrying Brooks, we opted to come back later with a Ziploc bag to gather the treasure.

When it came time for school, we went back to find a car had run over the eggs. The shells were completely shattered. Maggie was disappointed, but managed to hold her emotions somewhat in check as we instead gathered violets to add to her class's nature table.

When she came home from school two and a half hours later, she was proud to show me a picture she colored, chronicling our saga, which clearly was fresh in her mind.

A modern piece, it shows the eggs falling from the tree while simultaneously being shattered.  Also, in reality, I did brush my hair that day...I think.

I guess, as Maggie showed, art really can be healing, no matter how small the tragedy.

Jewels

I've been in survival mode recently.  Yes, it's been busy since I've been back to work after my maternity leave, what with the never-ending to do list, the baby that insists on being held almost every hour of the day, and the many activities we tote our family to and from throughout the week.  These past few weeks, however, the challenges have intensified even further with the onset of some major sleep disturbances in our four-month-old.

Brooks' six-hour nighttime stretch that I had previously become accustomed to, recently shortened to four hours and then shortly after he turned three months old, his first evening with a babysitter somehow set off a pattern of waking every hour or two.  Every night.  Exhausting.  Utterly and completely.

I've seen this poem here and there a few times during the last several months.  And I'm pretty sure it has made me tear up every time.

I remember the deep sense of loneliness in the weeks following the birth of my first baby; the feeling that the sleepless nights and constant crying would never end.

But they do and it does.

And with each tiny newborn baby, I have become more and more aware of the fleeting moments I have while they're young.

And so this morning, both fresh from the second consecutive night of only one night-time feeding, Brooks and I made our way downstairs before the other two got up.  Shortly thereafter, my sweet three-year-old shuffled into the dimly lit living room.  As we plopped onto the couch with Elmo on TV, I closed my eyes and relished his warm hug and cuddles for a few minutes, remembering the early mornings from a couple years ago when the quiet house would be ours.

I then tiptoed to the children's room and softly peeked inside.  My spunky daughter was just starting to stir.  I swiftly climbed onto the top bunk and curled around my still-sleepy first born as she giggled conspiratorially about our girl time.

I feel like I don't, or even can't, cherish these moments as much as I want to.  Life gets in the way.  Chores need to get done; work needs to be completed; each child vies for my attention in demanding and draining ways.  But on days such as today, armed with a good night's sleep (and coffee, of course), I am trying to treasure each special jewel of time that will be gone all too soon.

Our Long Weekend

I know I'm a week behind, but I've been meaning to chronicle our long Memorial Day weekend.  It wasn't TOO eventful, but it did start out with a bit of a scare.

Friday night, our family decided to go out to eat in Rochester.  We opted for El Loro, a Mexican restaurant that's in an old train depot.  It was a beautiful night, so after dinner on the deck, we decided to go for an after-dinner stroll on the nearby bike/walk path.  

All was good until we were almost  back to our car.  We were walking in the right lane and spotted a couple bikes coming down the hill toward us in the other lane.  Steve was ahead with Bode, and Maggie was by my side, furthest from the other lane.  I had just gotten done telling her to stay right next to me due to the bicyclists when, at the last minute, she bolted behind me directly in front of the oncoming bike.  I screamed, the bicyclist screamed, and the next thing I knew Maggie was clobbered and fell flat on her face while the bicycle (sans rider) continued over her.  

I snatched Maggie up as soon as I could get to her, and checked her over quickly for any major injuries.  Although she was all bloody and scraped up, I observed that she appeared to have no serious trauma.  (We found out later that the reason Maggie had run over to the other lane was because she saw a heart drawn in chalk.  *sigh*)  

I had briefly forgotten about the bicyclist in my motherly panic, a 40-something year old mom who was with her teenage daughter, but after I checked Maggie over and had her in my arms, I soon started reassuring the woman that this was not her fault and that Maggie was fine while Steve put the chain back on her bike.  Steve remembered to ask how she was, and it seemed she was physically fine, though very shaken up by the whole incident.  Meanwhile, Maggie was hysterical, and continued screaming and crying while we walked back to the car, drove home to Stewartville, and took a warm bath.

At El Loro - goofing around before "the incident."

That night she zonked right away due to emotional exhaustion.  And I had so many thoughts and emotions going on while replaying the whole incident over and over in my mind for much of the night.  Ah - could have been so much worse.  We are thankful.

The first non-sad face I got out of her that night.  This photo doesn't really show the extent of her scrapes.  Her nose looked much worse the next day.

The rest of the weekend was filled with gorgeous weather and lots of friends.

Visited by our dear friends, the Larsons, Saturday of Memorial Day weekend.  (Have I mentioned there's a baby under that striped shirt?)

Earlier in the week, I was running with Bode in the jogging stroller when we came across this field of dandelions.  "Mommy, pick flowers?"  Couldn't resist. 

Flowers from a cute boy?  Yes, please!

Blowing bubbles.

My girl also got her first bike.  (This was pre-accident.) Yes, we normally wear a helmet.

This guy couldn't be left behind.

We have grilled almost every day for the past two weeks.  Sooo nice.

A gazebo for our patio has created some nice shade.  Slowly making more of a living space outdoors.

Don't Judge Me...

What comes to your mind when you hear of a preschooler with cavities?  Rotting yellow teeth due to non-stop candy consumption, neglect, and lack of tooth-brushing?  Well, if you were to ask me that question about a month ago, those pictures probably would have been forefront in my mind.  If I found out your kid had cavities, I most likely would have unintentionally judged your hygiene and your effectiveness as a mother, if even in a fleeting thought.  That all changed when I brought Maggie in for her second dental appointment a few weeks ago.

During the past month or so, she had been having quite a bit of tooth pain, but when I looked inside her mouth at home, it seemed that she was possibly getting her six-year molars as evidenced by swollen gums.  The dentist told a different story.  Despite being unable to get good x-rays of my stubborn 4-year-old, it was clear that something nasty was going on inside her tiny little mouth.  This dentist identified 5 cavities. ("Probably more, but we can't know for sure without x-rays," they said.)  And as the dentist sat there trying to pinpoint the exact cause of my failure as a mom ("Does she drink pop?"  "Does she have candy every day?"  "Do you have well water?"  "Does she like fruit snacks?"  "How often do you brush her teeth?"  "Did you used to put her to bed with a bottle?"), I was sitting there with the same condemning thoughts in my head.  I mean, who else's fault could it have been?  And despite my best efforts to be health conscious and have a good oral health regimen, I started having flashbacks of the times that I forgot to brush her teeth until we were already in the car going somewhere in the morning, the times when I didn't limit her intake of sweets quite as much as I usually did, and the times the screaming while brushing her teeth got the best of me, so I called it good after a few swishes.

You see, I pride myself in being a mom.  I know more than anyone that I have areas of weakness, but I strive for perfection, and I really do find a very large chunk of my identity in how I am as a mother. There are things I know I can't control, but many things that I believe I can.  I thought this whole oral hygiene thing was an area that I had in the bag, but clearly even then, I failed.  As ridiculous as it sounds, the news of my daughter's cavities punched a big hole in my ego and in my confidence as a mother.

So after a few weeks to mull these things over in my mind, we attended the appointment with the pediatric dentist we were referred to, blanky in hand and princess shirt on.  Again, Maggie resisted x-rays, but this dentist shared the good news that it seemed Maggie only had 2 cavities after all.  They were in the same place on both sides of her mouth.  It seemed that food kept getting wedged down between her molars on the bottom, and this was the cause of her issues.

The dentist placed a "piggy nose" supplied with nitrous oxide on Maggie's face, and I stood there helplessly watching and trying not to cry while the dentist stroked her little forehead and gave her some quick jabs of Novocaine.  Sweet girl.  The procedure went well, and Maggie seemed in good spirits under the effect of the laughing gas.  She was even trying to sing while her mouth was propped open.  Oh, I love her.

After Maggie selected her prizes for being a brave patient and Bode selected his prize for just being there, I made an appointment to take care of her other cavity, and we hopped in the car to head to the promised McDonald's Play Place.  Safe in my own vehicle, that's when the tears started flowing.  Oh, for so many reasons.  I just told Maggie how very proud of her I was, and Bode kept saying "Mom, stop. STOP!"  Such a boy.

Smoothies first, per the dentist's orders, while the numbing effect of the Novocaine wore off.

This whole experience has taken my pride down a notch, and I am learning to extend grace to others as well as myself.  And now my daughter has a very visible, very shiny reminder for me to not be so quick to judge.

The Uniform

I am feeling silly...

I almost sold Maggie's first dance uniform, and I about lost it, emotionally.

Maggie's dance teacher had asked if I would be willing to sell Maggie's uniform from last year as a Just For Kix class in another town would be wearing the same style.  I didn't think anything of it at first. "Sure!" I quickly replied.

So before Maggie's class yesterday, I went to get it down from the closet to give to her teacher.  And as I looked at the adorable pink long-sleeve leotard and poofy aqua tulle skirt adorned with the pink flower, I had flashbacks of my precious princess on stage for her very first dance recital.  She was so excited, and she looked just ADORABLE. I remembered how she wanted to wear that uniform to Cubbies for Sports Night.  I remembered how she begged to just run around the house in it.  And again, how ADORABLE she looked in it.

I had a brief internal struggle, but we had to get going, and in the end thought I should follow through with what I originally told her teacher.  I even explained to Maggie, and she told me she wanted "another little girl" to have it.  What a sweetheart.  So I placed it in a plastic Target bag and let Maggie deliver it to her teacher at dance.

But I couldn't let go.

To add to my emotional state, I ended up talking with another mom at church that evening who had had a daughter in Maggie's dance class last year.  Without me saying anything, it just came up out of the blue that her daughter just loves that uniform, and wears it around all the time.

Uhhh!  I thought I made my decision!  I didn't want to beg for the uniform back.  I didn't want to be viewed as ridiculous and childish.  Finally as I lay in bed, quite distraught  (why was I crying???), I decided to grovel and ask for it back.  I emailed her teacher, and laid it out for her.  I would definitely want another child to have it if she needed it, but if they had extra...could I, pretty please, have it back?  Talk about feeling humbled!  And to my delight, the teacher emailed me back this morning and affirmed that she would not sell it but rather return it to me next week.

Am I ridiculous?  Don't answer that.  But seriously, look at this girl.

Ok, so maybe this whole uniform thing just represents how quickly my children are growing and changing, and how desperately I want to hang on to them so tightly!  I know there are some things I need to let go, but for now, I will keep the uniform, let Maggie enjoy it a little more, and then have the tangible memory of her very first dance class.

I Want to Remember

Sunday mornings can be a little hectic as we try to get out the door on time for church.  It is for everyone, right?  With Bode still needing a morning nap, we normally try to get him to lay down for a short little while before we leave for Sunday School and late service.

As I was trying to get him to sleep this morning, he was resisting more than usual.  I had finished reading him several books, but instead of snuggling down in his crib with his blue lovey puppy like he normally does, he was standing up and crying for me. Even though time was ticking, I was still wearing my towel with a mud mask on my face, I decided I'd sing him some more songs and rock him for awhile to see if that would help.  After a few of our favorite nap time tunes, he finally started relaxing in my arms and his eyelids succumbed to their sleepy weight.

When he finally drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but wish I could forget about everything else and just cuddle him all morning.  His warm toddler body just fit so perfectly on my lap with his precious wild blonde curls on my shoulder and his sweet little chubby bare feet sticking out from under the blanket.  Everyone says to cherish every second while they're young.  Often this is easier said than done, but in instants like these, I can't help but wish the world would stop so I could truly enjoy them to the fullest.

Sometimes I really cannot believe how quickly my babies are growing.  I wish I could tangibly remember what Bode was like as a newborn and recall exactly all of Maggie's quirky mannerisms when she was Bode's age.  In the moment you never think you'll forget, but sadly and inevitably the memories do fade. 

So these are just some of the memories I want so desperately to hang on to when, in the years to come, I look back on this chapter of our lives.:

~My darling 3 year old that needs me to hold her hand while she falls asleep at night but then still makes her way into our room before morning.

~The affectionate hugs and wrestles with my little boy.

~A grumpy girl that put herself down for an early nap one day and then came back out of her room to apologize.

~The shrill screams of a 17-month-old who still wants his mommy to hold him and carry him everywhere.

~The belly laughs from my oldest child when I imitate the way she used to say "Grammy."

~The way my youngest coyly looks away and buries his face in my shoulder when a stranger talks to him.

~The random "Mommy, I love you."s from my sweet daughter.

Yes.  We are blessed.

Bode's love even reaches to the cat...who does not share his enthusiasm.

Excitement on our surprise weekend trip to Wisconsin Dells.

Enjoying some homemade oobleck.

Homemade doughnuts, requested by Maggie after reading a Curious George book about doughnuts.

Greeting friends from the window.

Hugs for her bestie.

Wonderful friends, visiting from Isanti.

Sorting seashells that Bapa brought back from a business trip.

The Third Commandment

Our sermon this morning was about the Third Commandment and what exactly it means. Going in and out of the sanctuary with a baby caused me to miss some of it, but what I did hear was so good and convicting that I had to share.

"You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain..."  Pastor Sawtelle pointed out that we often think this means that as long as we don't say, "Oh my ---" then we're okay.  This commandment applies to so much more, however.  We may break this command when we take vows, such as marriage vows or in court, and then break them.  This command could be broken when athletes publicly and flippantly thank God in word or deed.  It could also be broken when we're worshiping and singing words but being distracted or daydreaming rather than meditating on those words (I am often guilty of this!).  It could also occur when our conduct is irreverent.  In the new covenant, we are called to do all in the name of God, so that God's name is honored and glorified in our actions.

Pastor Sawtelle closed with two points:

1.  He asked us to seriously examine ourselves.  None are guiltless of this commandment, although we often think we are.  We need to flee to Christ and seek forgiveness.

2.  We need to pray fervently that God would conform us, so that He is glorified.  We need to hallow God's name.

This is a bare bones recap, but as I said earlier, I wanted to share it and also write it down so that I remember!