Strong willed child vs. Tired Moma

After a hard day of mothering children who were refusing to conform to my will, I got out a few of my favorite parenting books. Skimming the pages, I vowed to do things differently, better, more consistently. My consistency flies out the window to a large extent when I’m pregnant. I’m tired. I’m sore. I don’t feel like it.

Feeling encouraged, I determined it was starting with bedtime. Five of my children march off to bed and go to sleep without issue.

One, not so much.

I bet you can guess which one.

So I give the dear boy a stern talking to, march him off to bed with a warning, and minutes later, hear from him again. After a brief conversation, he’s back in bed. All is quiet.

Wow! I should have done that a long time ago! That was too easy. Half an hour passes – silence.

And then. He got up. And got up. And got up. And got up. And it was 10pm, two hours past the time I’d laid him down, and I was losing my patience. I put him in my bed instead of his, shut the door, and went back to my relaxing. And he got up. And up. And he begged for his own bed. Really? One stern talking to later, I tucked him into his own bed, and didn’t hear from him until… the wee hours of the morning when he apparently bumped his head on something. And so he sleeps… in my bed.

I’m determined. I’ll persist. But after all of that… I’m starting to understand why I’ve often giving up fighting the fight as consistently as I ought. I. Am. Exhausted.

Pierce: 1. Momma: 0. For today.

Happy new year!

I. Am. Tired.

We went to a “party” last night. It consisted of three families, getting together. Six adults, twenty one children. Seven adults, I suppose, since one of those children has reached age eighteen, I think. There was hayrides and food and games and we managed to stay up until midnight, and then 1am, and finally left just before 2am. I hadn’t seen 2am in a long, long time. I don’t think any of my children had ever seen it. All six made it, meltdown free except for a moment with Charlotte that had nothing to do with tired, and had a great time. It’s now 11:36am and Eden, Charlotte, and Ruby are awake. The other three still sleep. Pierce is still in the same position as when I put him in his bed after we got home last night: flat on his back, in his jeans and button down. He hasn’t moved. He’s never slept this late in his life. Some strange part of me is hoping he sleeps until noon… just because.

We were serenaded on the way to the party by Charlotte, singing “Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego” over and over at the top of her lungs. The girl has learned to yell. Why she chooses to yell the names of these three characters, recently learned about in Sunday School, remains a mystery. There was no other story, no other words. Just major excitement at the names.

The van was strangely quiet on the way home.

Experiencing a new year is odd when you watch it through the eyes of a child. Sterling and Ruby have been answering “What month is it? What year is it? What’s the date?” all year long. They’d mastered 2013. Now, to learn another. The littlest ones don’t know what it all means – but the abundance of sweets and sparkling juice made for a fabulous evening for them.

All this, followed by pumpkin pie for breakfast. Turns out, when you put the Christmas pies in the basement refrigerator they get forgotten. Ruby’s comment: “I didn’t know we could have dessert first, and THEN protein…” Someone has heard my cry for eating protein at mealtimes.

Pierce didn’t make noon. 11:51. Liberty got up just after noon. No one has heard from Sterling yet…

Groceries... large scale.

Potatoes were on sale at a store I don't often get to tonight. I bought 90 pounds. I already had twenty in my kitchen. Chances are quite good we'll go through all 110 pounds of them within a month. I remember the days of buying 5 pounds at a time, because 10 spoiled before we finished them.

I also bought 50 pounds of oatmeal. That'll take a few months.

I'm scared to know what our food consumption will be in a few more years.

Christmas

Early yesterday morning, before anyone had emerged from bedrooms, there was a crash.

The tree that had been standing tall for over a week fell over. No one was in the room, it had never threatened tipping before, but there we were, drenched gifts and broken ornaments strewn across the living room.

I headed for the kitchen to make Blaine’s gift. Without a clue what else to get for him, I decided to try my hand at the very Dutch pastry banket, or butter letter. Not being a stitch Dutch myself, I had yet to try making it, but my completely-Dutch husband grew up with it, loves it, and has hinted many times that I ought to make him some. After a thorough search of my city’s grocery stores, I found one that carries almond paste, and we were in business.

The filling melted out of the dough EVERYWHERE. Every single one I made leaked. My dear husband assures me this is relatively normal, but after the tree, an imperfect gift for my husband was not what I’d hoped for. Frustrating. From his consumption of his gift, I’m thinking Blaine’s less than bothered.

While the butter letter baked, I had one of my girls mix up the pumpkin pie. The oven sat hot and empty for over an hour before I found the pumpkin pie batter in the mixing bowl, pie crusts sitting empty, oven sitting empty. There went my target time for dinner. We didn’t eat anything beyond fruit for the first time yesterday until 1:15 pm. It wasn’t the meal I’d planned. Our big meal was supposed to be a late lunch. It was supper. We didn’t open gifts until 3:00.

We ended up eating three hours after I’d planned. Charlotte dropped and broke her brand new ornament. Several of the dolls made by dear friends for my girls took a bath in Christmas tree water. Pierce peed on his new truck. Ruby decided to take the paints out of her new paint by number and Pierce opened the lavender and painted the floor, Ruby’s new skirt, the couch, and the paint by number package. I found out said paint washes off of wood floors and leather couches and skirts well when wet. Charlotte’s new sock has a small seam in a place where a seam ought not be from the scissors she used to open the package. The Christmas tree was down and out of the house before supper when it threatened to fall again after we cleaned it all up and straightened it once. The kids loved their Lincoln Logs, played heartily, picked them up and filled an entire five gallon bucket with them before bed, and Pierce helped them out by dumping them with a crash during devotions.

Sitting back last night, exhausted by the day and reminiscing on years past, I couldn’t help but think. Things were not like this growing up for me. It was just my sister and I, life was organized and quiet. Traditions were upheld. Yelling over the noise never happened. I remember exactly zero toppled Christmas trees. We took the tree down when we wanted to, not when it forced us to. We always opened gifts in the morning. The living room didn’t look like a hurricane had hit after gifts were opened.

Was that better? What am I complaining about? It was less stressful, to be sure. Things were more organized. There wasn’t chaos. It was quiet.

My kids weren’t complaining. My husband wasn’t complaining. It was me. It was my picture of the ideal way to celebrate Christmas that was being skewed.

Jesus was born in a barn, my friends. He left a perfect world to become man, to dwell among us, to save us from our sins. He humbled himself from God to baby. A not-talking, not-walking, helpless infant laid in a hard, stinky, dirty manger, a baby sent to save. And I’m complaining that there’s chaos in my house, that things aren’t happening when I wanted them to, how I wanted them – on a day that we celebrate Him.

Humbling.

Christmas preparations.

I finally finished Christmas shopping. I had to sew a few things, and got those made tonight, and everything wrapped. Whew. We don't get the kids a ton of gifts by any means, but half a dozen gifts per kid still means I wrap 36 gifts. I'm finally excited about the things we found, but it took a bit of creativity to figure out what to get. I sewed Charlotte and Ruby mei tai slings for their dolls, a maxi skirt for Liberty with a matching scarf, and a pillow for Charlotte. She found a remnant of polka dot minky that she grabbed and declared she need a new pillow with it. She really did need a new pillow, so I can't wait to see her reaction. That was the extent of my homemade gifts, but it was fun anyhow.

My seam ripper is missing. The pressure that creates when such a key tool in my sewing box shows up missing... I felt like I was a newbie at sewing all over again, scared to make a mistake. Funny thing is, I have had the same seam ripper since high school. I decided it was dull, bought a new one, and days later Liberty broke my old one. And now, my new one's missing. Funny how that works.

I asked Blaine's opinion on my boots this morning. When I questioned his choice because I didn't think they were dressy enough, he told me they were fine - but even if they weren't, who's going to argue? I'm pregnant. In his words, "No one who's smart!" I laughed. Poor man has lived with a pregnant wife just over five years now - nearly half of the time we've been married. He's learned how to keep peace with me when my hormones are in overdrive, apparently.

We're on Christmas break this week. Blaine only works one day this week. It should be fun. Christmas is never as fun as seeing it through the eyes of my children. Pierce remembers his birthday well enough to be thrilled at the sight of gifts. He was told one in particular is his, and he keeps trying to convince me to let him open it. Not until Christmas morning - but I can't wait either.

Persistence, pain, and learning personal hygiene...

Today was the Christmas party for the kids at co-op. It was exhausting, long, and now... It's over. Whew. Co-op is done until January, we start our break from schooling next week, and it feels like I've passed the first leg of surviving homeschooling for the year.

Tonight was my 27.5 week midwife appointment. Baby's head down! After one breech baby resulting in a c-section (Ruby), I was relieved to hear this baby is doing its part in cooperating. As achy as I've been lately, everything looks great with baby. Enduring the next twelve or so weeks could be interesting. Heartbeat's consistently 140. If I guessed, I'd say girl... but I'm rarely right. Just often enough to say "Yeah, you have a fifty percent chance of being right."

Yes, I accidentally scheduled my midwife appointment on co-op party day. Not the smartest thing I've ever done.

The four older kids got their free pizzas from Pizza Hut on the way home. Small town, I sent them in together to get the pizzas I'd called in. The young server asked if they'd be dining in. Four kids, ages five to ten, without an adult, dining on Book It pizzas, alone. I know it's a small town, but is that something they've had happen?!

Tammy, bless you for mentioning swipe on kindle. I had to Google it to find out what it was, but wow, has that made this process faster. I think it might even be faster than typing. Amazing.

Charlotte told me this morning that she'd put undies on already so I wouldn't have to tell her to cover her bottom. Progress, my friends. One of these years I might not have to remind them of these things. Right?! I finally told them I was starting a cavity fund and fining them a quarter each time noon rolled around and their teeth weren't brushed. None of them have yet to have a cavity, but I'm not sure how. My nagging skills have been finely tuned, and my pet peeve of such things is quite over it. Strangely enough, I have yet to collect anything for my cavity fund. Funny how money talks.

The kids managed to chop down the tree they were working on the other day all by themselves. They brought it to the house, recruited Blaine to set it up, and decorated it all by themselves. The light strands hang in clusters and the ornaments only cover the bottom two thirds of the tree, the star won't stay on the top because the branches are too soft and bend under pressure, and most of the ornaments have to hang from lights. But oh, the pride in the job they accomplished all on their own, together. This family of mine, with all of its interesting moments provided by many small children, is so different than the way I grew up - but I love it. Independence and teamwork are lessons built in if I just stop back and let them figure it out. Priceless.

Blurry lines…

Guest post by Alexandra…

I don’t allow the cats on the beds or the couch. They get put outside if I catch them on said furniture. With the weather turning so cold, they have decided that this lesson is worth learning. They curl up on the boys little chairs, any clothes or blankets that have fallen onto the floor, but rarely (anymore) do I catch them any place they are not allowed.



What category does an open dresser drawer fall in?