I Have a Dream...

I have dream on the rolling hills of Georgia that my house will be clean.  I have a dream that the dishes will be done, not one would be put in the sink, and the counter tops would be crumb free and spotless. 

I have a dream that one day my two little children will love each other like brother and sister, instead of like mortal enemies.  They will want to play together, and they will share their toys happily with one another.

I have a dream that one day my laundry will be caught up.  It will not be in a wrinkled mountain waiting to be folded.  It will not be strewn on the floors and closets waiting to be washed.  It will smell like spring rain and be free of wrinkles.

I have a dream that my dog will not eat my children’s toys, and that these toys will be picked up instead of my house looking like a toy tornado swept through the dining room.  I have a dream that I will get that dining room back, and we will have an actual table and chairs in there.  One day, we will sit at that table and eat a civilized meal, and everyone will eat what I cooked without complaint, and everyone will chew with their mouth closed, and no one will throw their food to the dogs.

I have a dream that  I will be able to sit down in the evenings and enjoy an adult beverage without a child coming down every ten minutes to see what I’m doing, or get a glass of water, or go to the bathroom, or be re-tucked in, or need another hug, or need to get rid of the monsters. 

I have a dream that my house will be spotless.  Nothing will be out of place, all of the socks would be mated, not a speck of dust will be found on the furniture, and not a smudge of crayon will be on the walls. 

I have a dream that I will be able to sleep through the night without getting up for a sick child, waking to a cough or cry, or changing wet sheets at night.

I have a dream that I will go to the grocery store without a child trying to climb out of the cart, or beg for a cookie, or cry for a Hot-wheels car, or complain they are hungry, or wave to everyone they pass by. 

I have a dream that my children will treat things with respect.  They will not throw away everything, including the car keys.  They will not throw my iPhone off the bleachers at a high school, or in the water table, or on the floor.  My son will not hide my husband’s wallet where he will never find it. 

I have a dream that I will not have to see a tantrum on a daily basis.  I have a dream that I can leave my house without someone having a melt down.  And, that I can get the mail and not return to see children at the door. 

I have a dream that my daughter will wear matching earrings.  She will not pull them out of her ears so often that I stick whatever earring I can find back in her ear.  I will not spend her college fund on more earrings.

And, when all of these dreams are realized, my children will be grown and out of the house.  I will look back on these days of mess and chaos and think of them fondly.  I will miss those slobbery kisses and breaking my toe on their toys.  I will miss the fights and the hugs.  I will miss the days of kid-dinners.  And, I will dream of those days and want my youth back. 

*Disclaimer:  This poem is in now way meant to belittle or poke fun at Martin Luther King Jr.'s I Have A Dream speech.  I am a big fan of Dr. King's writings and speeches.  His words are profound and still relevant today.  

14 Things I'd Rather Be Doing Than Getting My Teeth Cleaned

I HATE the dentist.  I don't know why, and I have no reason to.  I don't have cavities, and I haven't had any big procedures.  I never even had braces.  Plus, my dentist is super nice.  I'm convinced that the people who work there fall into the "nicest people in the world" category.

I don't really mind the scraping of the teeth.  It's the polishing that I can't stand.  That little spinning toothbrush makes a creepy sound.  Not only that, but I can't stand when the gritty feel on my teeth, or when the cleaning tool touches my gums.  And, I look like a zombie after they floss my teeth.

That being said, these are a few things I'd rather be doing that sitting in the dentist's chair.

1. Running.  I don't run.  I don't even work out.  But I'd rather run mile after mile than get my teeth cleaned.
2. Waiting in line.
3. Cleaning my showers.  I hate cleaning the showers.  They are gross.  I get wet and covered in bathroom cleaner.  I have to bend over, and that makes my back ache.
4. Changing a dirty diaper.  By that I mean the kind that takes a bath, where you throw the clothes away, and the horrible situation is etched in your memory.
5. Changing a tire.  Never done it, but it's probably more pleasant.
6. Mowing the lawn.  I did it once as teen; not for me.  I don't like being that sweaty.  It's hard with hills, and I'm allergic to grass.  If my husband were to die suddenly, I'd hire a lawn service before I mowed the grass again.
7. Camping.  In a tent.  With no bathroom nearby.
8. Caring for a colicky, inconsolable infant all day.
9. Driving a stick-shift, uphill, in traffic.
10. Replacing the batteries in the smoke detector at 3 am.
11. Moving.  The whole thing, packing boxes, moving the stuff into a truck, and unpacking.  Well, maybe not the whole thing, just an hour of heavy lifting.
12. Giving the dog a bath.
13. Doing dishes after a big dinner.  The kind where all the pots and pans are used, and you have to wash the fine china by hand.
14. Matching socks.

That's just a quick list off the top of my head.  Even though I hate the act of having my teeth cleaned, I do love that clean teeth feel.  Also, I get a free toothbrush.

Shopping with Kids: The New Cardio

I've read that if you do three or four bursts of cardio for 10 minutes a day it is just as good for you as getting 30 or 40 minutes of cardio at one time.  Ladies and gentlemen, I've found a new way to get my 10 minutes of cardio: shopping with my children.

I have two kids ages four and half and almost two years. I ran into Target for swim diapers, dog food, and a couple of other things.  The kids had never ridden in the toddler shopping cart, so I thought we would try that.  The toddler cart (as I call it) is about eight feet long.  It's a normal shopping cart with a plastic, two-seat, kid holder on the steering end.  For a large cart, it actually has a great turning radius, but I digress.

I put both kids in the toddler part.  My sweet two-year old decided to get out and run.  After I chased her down, I decided to buckle her in to the toddler seat.  She did not appreciate her confinement.  She struggled and screamed.  At this point in my shopping excursion, I'm booking it to the diaper section.

Now, I'm not one to leave the store just because my kids are screaming.  I have things I need to purchase, and I have just as much right to be there as the next person.  When my kids decide to have a tantrum in the store I just move faster.

I'm nearly running at this point, and I decide to move my daughter to the sitting part of the shopping cart.  She normally sits there, so I assume all will be fine.  She quieted for a minute.  A store clerk asked how I was doing.  I told him, "fine" through clenched teeth.  I don't think he believed me.

As we are leaving the diaper section and heading to the opposite end of the store for dog food, my daughter decides she doesn't like this seat either.  She begins thrashing around, and hits her mouth on the cart.  I try to console her, but to no avail. At this point, my son is yelling for no reason.  I decide to dash to the dog food section with a crying daughter and screaming son.

I arrive at the dog food aisle, and search for my brand.  I even ask my children, like they will know.  Instead of them answering me, another woman in the store looks at my children and tells me that this time will go by too fast.  To savor it, and remember it.  After all, her kids are 19 and 23 now.  I try to explain that I just can't find the dog food I need (turns out it was moved to the next aisle).  This woman and I were on two different wavelengths. That's sweet that she wanted to give me unsolicited advice, but I know the time will go by quickly, and that my children will be grown in no time.  I just want to get my few things and leave the store, so I can enjoy my kids when they are a bit happier.

Once I make it to the checkout line, my sweet daughter is fine, and now acts like she's in a parade by saying hello to everyone we pass.  My son is no longer yelling, but pummeling me with questions.  My kids are back to their normal selves before we leave the store.  I'm left wondering if 10 am is too early to open a bottle of wine.  But, it's probably healthier to drink water since I just finished a round of cardio, and I'm still trying to catch my breath.

The Lies I Tell My Children

I am a really honest person.  I don't tell big lies.  I don't even tell little white lies.  I'm almost honest to fault. When it comes to my kids, I want to be honest, but sometimes the lies just fall out of my mouth.  Santa and the Easter Bunny are the big, obvious lies, but I tell little ones too.  I have my reasons.  Sometimes, I don't feel like dealing with all the questions, and the lie would stop the questions.  Sometimes, the truth is too big for them to hear at this age.  Sometimes, I just don't feel like dealing.

Here are some of the lies I've told my kids:

• No, you can't have Tootsie Pop, those are grown-up suckers.

• I'm so cold (in the grocery store) that I'm going to turn into a Popsicle.

• The police officer was just making sure that Daddy was driving safely.  

• I can't find the movie you want to watch right now.  Or, that movie isn't working right now. 

• You have to wait until Daddy can fix it, I don't know how.

• We don't have the batteries that toy needs.  

• You wouldn't like this kind of candy.

• Oh, this is a gross grown up drink.  You wouldn't like it.

I would love to hear what lies you tell your children, because we all do.  And, I'm sure there will be another edition of this article.

The No-Reason Tantrum

Tantrums: the unbelievable, ever-frustrating, silly emotional fits that small children (and some teens and adults) throw.  My daughter will be two years old in two months.  She is really beginning to come into her own with the tantrums she throws.  My four and half year old son still has tantrums, and his can become crazy, although they are less frequent than my daughters'.

Tantrums happen for several reasons.  They happen more frequently when the child is tired or hungry.  Kids have tantrums when they want something, don't want something, or things don't go their way. In the blog,  Reasons why my son is crying it details some of the crazy reasons just one child has tantrums.

My daughter has what my husband and I call the No-Reason Tantrum, or the NRT.  These happen daily.  Usually, it's after she wakes up and is a little cranky, or doesn't get the beverage of her choice.  For example, my daughter was rolling on the floor, and my husband asked why she was crying.  I told him that it was because I offered her juice.

The NRT is my favorite tantrum really.  It comes out of no where and is for no reason.

The above picture was taken we toured a fort in St. Augustine, Florida. She was tired of walking around and didn't want to get in her stroller.  There was no pleasing her.  So, like a good mom, I got out my camera.  

This picture is my favorite.  Here, we were on the beach.  The beach.  Who gets upset at the beach?  She wasn't eaten by a shark.  She wasn't hungry or thirsty.  She just felt like crying.  She spent the entire morning alternating between playing or rolling around in the sand and crying.  

When an NRT crops up with my daughter nothing helps.  With my son, we could hug him and say "take a breath" or "it's going to be okay" over and over until he calmed.  My daughter doesn't want a mantra.  She doesn't want to be held.  She is past fixing the problem.  She just wants to cry.  We look like horrible parents when it happens in public, but there is really nothing to do for the five, ten, or fifteen minutes this nonsense lasts.

I know she is just beginning the tantrum phase.  When she turns three they will become ridiculous, leave-the-cart-at-the-store level tantrums.  Right now, we try to help, but there really isn't anything we can do for her.

In fact, as I wrote this, she threw her empty sippy cup at me.  I filled it up, and she threw it and cried some more. 

Taking Out the Trash

Oh ladies, don't we love to joke about how husbands never fold the laundry, or don't even know how to operate the vacuum?  And, when our men actually do these chores they expect acknowledgment. They want a pat on the back, you to be in awe, and to reward them for their hard work.

We also joke that all men are good for is taking out the trash and mowing the lawn.  In a way, that is true.  If my husband died tomorrow, I'd have to hire a lawn service.  There is no way you would see me mowing the lawn.  The same goes for the garbage.

Below is a picture of how I like to let the garbage and recycling pile up:

This is very typical.  It drives my husband crazy.  Would it kill me to take out the trash?  Probably.  Here lately, I've had to take out the garbage because my nearly two year old daughter enjoys pulling things out of it.

I beg my husband to take out the trash before it makes a scene.  If he forgets, and I can no longer balance the garbage on top on top of the cans, I do take it out.  I set it right outside the garage door.  For this tiny chore I expect to be acknowledged for my hard work.  If I actually put on shoes and take the garbage to the outside bins, someone needs to buy me a trophy.  And, lord have mercy if I actually take the bins to road on Monday night for trash day.  If I've done that I'm either feeling extremely generous, or something is terribly amiss.  This chore should be greeted with praise, adoration, and possibly, new jewelry.  

I say all that to say this, ladies, it goes both ways.  We all have chores we don't like to do.  If we didn't, they wouldn't be called chores.  Next time your spouse does a tiny chore and expects praise, give it to them.  It will make him feel appreciated and loved.  

Parenting Isn't All Rainbows and Butterflies

Being a parent is great.  But, sometimes, being a parent is really hard, and it sucks.  There are many reasons for a parent's day to be awful.  Yesterday was one of those days for me, and it was all my fault.  I woke up with a bad attitude.  I wanted a break.  It's been about two weeks since I've had any time alone from my children, and that was just to run a few errands.  I didn't want to go to my son's last soccer game.  I didn't want to deal with my daughter being sick and miserable.  I didn't want my husband to work another Saturday.  Thus, my patience was thin.

Sure, bad days happen to every parent.  That's natural and normal.  Just don't take out your own frustrations on your children.  And, that's what I was trying so hard to not do.  

We went into Target to get a few things for my son's soccer coach.  I was so impatient.  I didn't want to be there.  I didn't want to be a Debbie Downer in the store.  I wanted to look like a happy mom, but I didn't succeed.  My lips were pulled tight.  I was picking out a card for the coach and my son stepped on my flip-flopped feet with his cleats for the third time.  

"Really?  Really?  You have got to watch where you are stepping, son."  I exclaimed, my voice full of exasperation. 

A complete stranger, old enough to be my mother, said "You are going to miss this when they are 35 and 37."  

I ended up talking to this nice woman for a few minutes.  I completely vented to her, which is unlike me.  She showed me pictures of her newborn grandson.  She told me that she remembered her kids at this age.  She remembered the hard days, and she remembered the fun day.  Most importantly, she wanted me to know that I was going to miss my kids when they were adults, and to not take this time for granted.  

I left the store thinking about the advice of a stranger.  

I continued on to my son's game.  It was cold.  It started raining.  I didn't have an umbrella.  The kids were still going to play, at least, for a few minutes.  I told the other moms that I was going inside because I didn't want my daughter to catch pneumonia (I know, it's isn't a "catching" thing), and someone please watch my son.  I added, sarcastically, that I was clearly trying out to be Mom of the Year.  

I strolled inside the church (that's the field where the league is) feeling guilty.  During this time I was forced to talk to other adults, a couple were from my Sunday School class, and pretend to be happy whilst chasing my daughter around.  I really did want to watch my son play; I just didn't want to get my daughter sicker.

By the time we left the soccer party/trophy giving/celebration thing my spirits had lifted.  I was glad my son enjoyed his season.  I was thankful to have a young daughter to chase around.  I was glad to be around to wipe my daughter's nose.  I appreciated my time with my children the rest of the day.  I attribute this to the stranger I ran into at Target.  She had been in my shoes.  She knew not all days were bad, and to appreciated the time I get to spend with my children while they are young.