Two Daily Choices: Be Grateful or Be Grumbly?

It's days like these (when I'm desperately trying to choke back the complaining and frustration) that I'm confronted with two choices: to be grateful for my blessings or to grumble about my losses. In fact, I'm given the same two choices each day. Typically, the choice isn't nearly so apparent...and typically, I choose the latter without even making a lame attempt at the former.

The street and TWO cars are buried under the tree debris.

Late last night, a storm ripped through town. A similar storm had ripped through town the night before, but this one sounded louder and more aggressive. Standing on our front porch in the midst of 70-mph winds, we were horrified to get glimpses of our cars covered by toppled, full-size trees. The power was out (estimated wait was 16-32 hours). The kids were scared. My mind was reeling of the insurance nightmare before me.


After less than three hours sleep, we were up with the morning sun to assess damages. The street was blocked by not one, but two full-sized trees that had fallen from the house across the street onto our cars. I couldn't help but laugh when street crews put up "road closed" signs on either side of the street...as if the tree debris wasn't clue enough for poor, unsuspecting drivers.


After fighting with the insurance company to get us into rentals and starting the inane claim filing process, I couldn't help but get more and more overwhelmed at the uphill battle to replace all our "stuff." But that's just what it is - STUFF.


Our house, thankfully, withstood the awful storm (and trees). Our family was protected. No one was hurt. (Clearly our sense of humor was left intact, when my husband found yesterday's mail in the destroyed mailbox that ironically held two pieces of junk mail from dealerships and mail from our trusty auto insurance company.) We have terrific neighbors who jumped into to help with the clean-up and stopped by to check on us all day. Oh, and our power? It came back on within a few hours...that's more than I can say for my neighbors who are STILL without power.


So, that's our daily choice: be grateful or be grumbly. For today, I'm making a minute-by-minute choice to be grateful. And as I type this, I realize that I could make days more positive if I consistently make this choice - even on frustrating days. It would increase my productivity, make me nicer mommy to my children, and maybe even accomplish more on the homefront before my husband comes home from work.

Digital Age - whaaaaat?

With school about to start up again, I've been inundated with numerous back-to-school dates and activities - some with kids and some without - from two different schools. Between these dates plus additional meetings and deadlines and my husband's schedule, it was starting to get ridiculously out of hand.

Since my previous scheduling mishaps post, I've been maintaining three (that's right, THREE) calendars: my trusty Franklin Covey planner, a family digital calendar (which my husband never checks) and a monthly low-tech dry erase calendar (that currently reads JUNE). But marking activities in THREE spots is starting to become a job of its own.

Even though it feels a bit disloyal to my trusty Franklin Planner, I'm now using my smartphone to track all meetings and dates. In one moment, it syncs to my Outlook calendar and allows my husband (when he checks it) to see meetings, dance class, violin lessons all in one location.

I'm not sure when I'll be ready to give up my Franklin Habit, since my love relationship with a planner pre-dates my husband and I's relationship...but for now, it feels good to have all dates in one place. Plus, automatically backs up and syncs to several locations.

Jacket on! / Jacket off!

I'm certain all parents struggle with getting their children to pick up their coats/shoes/hats/socks/toys/what have you. In our household, it's fairly typical day when I'm asking my kids to pick up their _______ [coats/shoes/hats/socks/toys].

My five-year-old daughter has become very good at cleaning up and helping. In fact, she gets very excited about getting to help. (Oh, how I wish I had her enthusiasm for cleaning.) My son, on the other hand, does not share his sister's motivation for tidiness, nor does he even have such desire. I understand this is partly due to maturity, partly due to gender, and partly due to temperament.

A few nights ago, I was griping on my facebook status that I was sick and tired of picking up all the extraneous kid objects strewn from front door to back door, upstairs to downstairs. I remember having a similar gripe not long after watching the Karate Kid (the new Jackie Chan version) and wanting to have my son do a similar task - "Jacket on! Jacket off!" 



So, the next day when we came home from school, I ventured to do JUST that. Sophia thought it was a new game ("Mom, I love the new game!"). But she got bored and went to go play. Aidan, the target of this lesson, was not thrilled to stay and play. But I think he eventually learned his lesson. Only time will tell.

Scheduling Mishaps

Last fall, in my attempt to be more organized, I ambitiuosly bought a calendar whiteboard and added my schedule, my kids' activities and my husband's work schedule - all cutesily color-coded, too. It worked great - while it lasted. It's still quietly hanging in my dining room, mostly forgotten, with DECEMBER's activities cheerily posted on it.

In the meantime, I've tried a more electronic means to organize our calendar: Mobile Me, Google Calendars, Outlook. But nothing seems to be working.

Last night, my husband came home with his schedule for the next few weeks - he's in training at his new job. With my morning cup of coffee, I'm trying to figure out what to do next. I updated his google calendar, so at least I have something useful for when I schedule meetings. But this is getting incredibly complicated.

My kids do NOT participate in very many activities, but this scheduling thing is becoming more difficult to maintain. All of my reading about effectivness seems to imply that handling the same pieces information numerous times is  inefficient. It also seems rather time consuming to maintain several calendars - a whiteboard, an electronic one, my personal planner.

I'm open to suggestions. I'm curious what works for YOUR family.

Bad case of the Mondays...

Some days just don't go as planned. And Mondays seem exceptionally prime for errors. Today, was a long, drawn-out struggle with my exhausted, whiny, irrationally inconsolable three-year-old son.

It started off as any other typical day - get breakfast, get dressed, get out the door. We were even running ahead of schedule. And for the record, running ahead of schedule on a Monday is a GIANT win.

But whining ensued and eventually took over the day. After all the fits, he lost his privilege of watching his newest favorite show: How to Train a Dragon. This caused more crying fits. Then, I insisted he take a nap after he ate lunch. More screaming, crying fits. He got in trouble because he wouldn't stay in his room. Even more fits. It just continued to escalate as the day progressed (or regressed).

I was so relieved to hear my husband's keys in the door tonight. He was even making dinner - hotdogs for the kids and brauts for us. (I knew I loved that man.)

Days like these leave me struggling to find the positives. But they exist.

1. I'm thankful that these days are so few. It's rare that I have days like this that involve a long drawn-out battle like this with my kids.
2. I'm grateful that I have a partner who I can "tag" into this wrestling match of a day. His fresh perspective yields a patience that I lost somewhere along the way. Even after a long day at work, he's happy to jump in and help.
3. I'm relieved to know that my son is happily snoring away in his room.
4. My family is incredibly blessed - my biggest complaint today was that my son had a poor attitude. Just one quick perusal of the daily news is enough to know there are a lot of people out there with much more important concerns. My temporary bad day is so small in scale.

So, as irritating as a Monday can be, I'm glad that tomorrow is TUESDAY. I'm nearly certain it'll be a much better day.

Stealing a few quiet moments during the day

Here's something they never tell you in parenting manual (oh, there IS no such manual by the way): how you'll do just about anything for a few quiet moments of peace and calm. Or that it's uncanny how much your kids grow up to behave much like you.

I never imagined I'd be sneaking off to the bathroom to take a few moments to read a magazine or a couple of pages from a book - just to have some quiet. What's even more surprising is how frustrated my kids become the instant the door shuts.

Thinking back on my childhood, it's only fair. My own mother used to sit in the bathroom with the door closed so she could read, have devotionals and quiet time - away from me, the always-chatty, ever-present daughter at her hip. The closed door irritated me and only exacerbated my need to chat. Instead of respecting that boundary, it became my quest to scale it by whatever means possible. As soon as I was able to read/write, I'd slip her annoying notes (I meant them as love notes, but I don't think that's how they were received) under the door. I'd knock quietly to make some much-needed request for a cookie or a snack. I was relentless.

It's ironic how life cycles through nearly twenty-five years later. My own children can barely stand to have the door shut. And while they're not yet reading/writing, I'm certain that's only a matter of time before they start slipping me notes (or texting me).

I now have a deep, intimate understanding why Mom took a few minutes alone - to sit silently and enjoy a few moments of calm in the middle of the day. And why shouldn't she have? She devoted every other minute of her day to her family's well being. Stealing just a moments away was what she needed. And it's exactly what I need, too.

The somewhat calming force of motherhood

I've recently reconnected with an old friend from junior high. (That's right. Way back when, it was called "junior high" not "middle school." Doesn't THAT date me?) We've had lunch a couple of times and she has two boys (9 months, 2 1/2 years old).

When we get together, I can't help but remember how awkward I was as a teenager. I was  high strung, uptight, and could barely relax in my own skin. Nearly fifteen years later, we're both married with children. And it's amazing how much more calm I've become.

I remember complaining often to my mother about the drama and trials of junior high and high school. She wisely would tell me that although it seemed like it won't ever end, "this chapter of your life is such a small portion of the rest of your life. And one day, you'll look back on all this and laugh." Well, wasn't she right? (Who knew she was so smart.)

Before I was a mom, I prayed I would be a calm, relaxed mother (instead of the frantic, paranoid mother I feared I would become). I wanted to be the kind of woman who always seems to maintain her composure even in the midst of chaos. My Type-A, nearly obsessive-compulsive personality made this dream of being a relaxed  mother seem a bit out of reach since I was a clean-freak who needed every item in my home to have its own "home."

Once my daughter was born, something inside of me changed instantly. It was a miracle. It was easier to let the little things go. Keeping my house clean and every little item in place just didn't seem as important to me as it had just days before she was born. And little by little, my anxiety and uptightness seemed to erode into a mellow mom.

It's surprising how motherhood has mellowed me. Sure, I still have my manic moments or anxious hours. But overall, there's a significant shift in my demeanor. My paranoia has all but diminished. My patience has increased so much that it even surprises me at times (not to mention my husband). And after the initial fear of leaving the safety net of the nursing staff at the hospital, my baby and I settled into a routine.

Even though motherhood has its highlights and low points (a baby and a toddler covered from head to toe in Vaseline was a bit of both), I've found it an overwhelming source of joy, confidence, humility and MELLOWNESS. Thank God for answering my prayers for mellowness and patience.

Conflict Resolution

This afternoon, my daughter was telling me about her day during lunch. It's difficult to get a real sense of what's happening, since she tells me so very little about school. I've had numerous conversations with her, essentially telling her that I'd really like her to share about her day, since I'm not actually there with her. Generally, I get more than I did last school year. Part of it's maturity, too. My three-year-old son remembers what he had for a snack and who wasn't there. Beyond that, he simply says, "I forgot." And I think for the most part, he's probably right. He probably can't pull that information together out of his mind and make it into a sentence - not yet, anyway.

(That reminds me, one of the other moms was telling me her daughter didn't want to go to school one morning because she didn't know what to do during circle time. I looked at her and said, "Well, you're about five steps ahead of me - what in the world IS circle time?" I spent the next week trying to decipher from Sophia's distracted, cryptic words what happens during circle time with ZERO luck.)

But today, my daughter said that a boy pushed her out of her computer chair. She told him, "Hey, that's not very nice! That's not how we treat people." But he pushed her out anyway. He said something to her but she didn't understand what he said. (The boy is usually nice, but he can be difficult to understand. He's on a waiting list for speech therapy. His mom says that he has a hard time getting people to understand him and has resorted to pushing.)

I asked my daughter if she told the teacher, but she didn't. Apparently the teacher was busy or my daughter didn't feel she needed the help.

"I snuck into the seat later, and he didn't even notice," she said.

I'm so very proud of her. She figured out how to deal with a difficult situation without causing conflict. She's had a few interesting incidents this school year. Her Pre-K class of 12 is comprised of mostly girls - 10 girls, 2 boys. And I was surprised to discover that catty-ness in girls starts YOUNG.

 Earlier this year, she figured out how to deal with a very bossy, slightly bullying girl before I even knew there was any kind of situation. In fact, I didn't discover there was anything wrong until about three weeks after my sweet girl had resolved it. When I asked her about the mean girl, she replied matter-of-factly, "I don't have to do everything she says."

I can't help but be impressed with her conflict resolution skills, her coping mechanisms and her overall sense of confidence. She definitely has her daddy's temperament. (At her age, I would've either been lashing out at the mean kids or crying in the fetal position until my mother rescued me.)  

I think she's onto something, too. Oftentimes, conflict can be resolved without more conflict. And isn't this what we hope for our children? I desire for my children to become confident adults who can deal with the unfairness and disappointments of life while maintaining their own kind of resolve that includes compassionate and empathy for others.

I could learn a lot from my five-year-old. She possesses such a large capacity of empathy for others. Even when she was a toddler, she would attempt to comfort others. (In fact, she became very good as a "sympathetic cryer" in the nursery.) Sophia doesn't get hung up on minor irritations. She's incredibly forgiving. Next time I'm in a difficult situation, I'll have to think about it from her perspective see if there's an alternative solution I haven't yet considered. I'm so impressed with the young woman she's becoming, and I'm privileged to be her mommy.  

My New Toy Story

A good friend of mine has children whose birthdays are merely a day apart. Last week, her daughter turned 5, and her son turned 12 the very next day. How exciting! But with the influx of presents she had to reconsider the existing lot of toys that were currently NOT receiving much play time (if any). Additionally, they're a military family and have had numerous one-year assignments (this being one, the next being yet another).

After school one afternoon, she handed me a large bag with puzzles (my kids LOVE puzzles), a large bag with G.I. Joes (now my son can play with Barbie-sized G.I. Joes rather than Barbie-sized, well, Barbies. And instead of dressing up Barbie+Co. in sequined gowns, he can change his dude's camo accessories and switch out his aresenal of guns), and a GIANT tub with a nearly 36" replica of the Black Pearl and other replica items from the Pirates of the Caribbean movie.

Picture her like a younger, hipper version of Santa who drives a fly minivan instead of a sleigh. I couldn't thank her enough and wanted to pay her for all the awesome stuff. But she insisted these items were either going to Goodwill or to me.

I spent a large part of the afternoon assembling the ship and other buildings (assembly is NOT my strong point, but the husband was working). The kids could barely contain their excitement. As soon as I completed each piece, they'd immediately start playing. I enjoyed listening to their imaginations and stories unfold as their 4" pirates fought each other and scaled buildings in a single bound.


Nearly everyday, my 5-year-old comes home from preschool, she runs upstairs to change into a princess dress. (My mother in-law is an amazing seamstress who sews fabulous costumes for the kids each Halloween. This past year, Sophia was Sleeping Beauty, but the year before that she was Snow White.) After school, she changes into a dress for the afternoon - complete with cape and high-heeled plastic shoes - and she wants me to join her for afternoon tea with the rest of her princesses. I'm typically in the middle of putting lunch together quickly, so that I can get back to work...and I don't always take the time to have tea. But I should.

I love the movie Toy Story 3. It's such a poignant part of the story when Andy delivered his toys to a girl one-third his age who couldn't wait to play with them. And it even showed that Andy, who had very little time for his toys since he was too "old," had fun playing, too. It was also touching to see that toys can have new life in another, smaller person's hands.

I'm surprised how rejuvenating playing can be. It seems that when work becomes overwhelming, a little play time not only gives me perspective but usually an AH-HA moment I was looking for as well. There's something so critical (for me at least) that involves getting on the floor to play. Maybe it's because I'm at eye-level. Or maybe it's because we're connecting in a different way than I typically do (like barking orders to clean up their rooms for the 80th time that day).

But this week, even though deadlines were looming, I lingered with the pirates and their ship for a bit longer than normal because these moments for pirates and impromptu tea parties are a limited-time opportunity.

Enjoying Daily Detours

This morning, my husband called and needed a HUGE favor. He'd accidentally forgotten a critical item necessary for work - his NEXTEL. We discussed several scenarios, but eventually decided to meet him halfway to hand-off his extra work phone.

This week is chock-full of appointments, meetings, and field trips. I already had a jam-packed schedule for the day. In order to fit this emergency errand into the schedule, it forced me to bump my gym time. I was frustrated and irritated about having to eliminate my gym time. But good grief. The man has bailed me out of countless situations. He rarely asks for a favor, so I just needed to "get over it." (FYI: This is one of my mother's FAVORITE sayings. I've heard it numerous times over the years. It's posted on the fridge, on her calendar, on her mirror. I'm surprised it's not tattooed on my forehead, considering all the times she's used that phrase with me.)

After I met my husband, I was near one of my favorite stores, but it didn't open for another 30+ minutes. Since my 3-year-old son was STARVING (less than an hour post-breakfast), we dipped into a nearby coffee shop. I bought him a giant chocolate chip cookie - along with my LARGE latte.

As we sat at the coffee shop enjoying our delicious treats, I was surprised at how adventurous I felt. We'd gone completely off-schedule into an entirely new zone: leisure. Typically, I would've ruined the time with a sour attitude (mourning the loss of my gym time and the interruption to my day). But instead, we had a few  moments to just linger and enjoy. I patiently sipped my coffee while he happily chomped away at his giant cookie. I marveled at his developing sense of humor as we people watched.

I also had the stark realization that in less than 18 short months, both of my preschoolers will be in school full-time. The opportunities for these impromptu, one-on-one moments will nearly vanish.

I doubt he'll even remember this day, but I won't forget this sweet, precious moment together. And even though I didn't get my heart-rate up at the gym, I'm fairly certain my heart grew this morning.

Realistic expectations

The other day I was having a conversation with a friend who was rushing home from work to relieve her mother who was at her home caring for her sick kids. She said, "I left the house this morning not planning for anyone to BE there. And my house is not in any condition for my mother to be there." Then entire conversation made me laugh because I knew EXACTLY how she felt.

My goal is to leave to have both the kids out the door by 8:15 every morning. But usually, I'm running about 5-10 minutes behind schedule. It's a mad scramble to get to the car. I'm a bit embarassed to admit it, but I leave behind a disastrous mess: my daughter's half-eaten SECOND bowl of cereal (with a few lonely floating Cheerios), my son's demolished single waffle (he hates breakfast) that he'd pushed around for 25 minutes and only eaten three-fourths, my unmade bed, a couple of coffe mugs and half-filled glasses of water. And even though my mother wouldn't mind the least, I would be mortified if she entered my house before I'd had the chance to straighten.

Lunch is the time when I clean up breakfast, empty the dishwasher (and load up whatever dishes are waiting patiently in the sink), pick up the rest of the house...and if I'm felling particularly energetic, I'll prep dinner.

Sometimes, when we're running ahead of schedule, I'll do some clean up before we even leave for school. But I've noticed it takes a lot to get my awfully sluggish self moving in the morning, and it takes significantly longer to do each task. I don't know if it's endorphins or motivation or just a boost of energy I get (my highest functioning hours of the day are from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m.), but I can bust through and clean up the house in half the time (or less) later in the day.

I must have realistic expectations and goals for myself. My primary goal is to get OUT the door in the morning. Everything else is secondary. For now - in this preschool stage of life - this is all I can realistically expect in the morning hours. I'm certain this will change as the kids get older and take on more of their own responsibilities and chores. 

It's taken me nearly ten years of marriage to accept things as they are. I'm a perfectionist through and through who's always trying to achieve such high standards that are nearly unattainable without a Martha Stewart-like intensity. (In fact, I used to often be late to things because I couldn't leave the house until every last thing was put in its place.) Setting realistic expectations, guilt-free, is a benchmark of personal growth. I think all too often, I'm motivated solely by motherly guilt, that I miss out on LIFE. Here's a terrific example of guilt-motivated decisions: I've been working a lot lately, so I had the un-novel idea to make homemade valentine's this year for both of my children's preschool class: it took a very long time to stamp, cut, and assemble what would've cost me less than $3 per box at WalMart. 

So, if you come visit my house before lunch, be prepared that it may be a disaster area. (While I'm not exactly proud of the mess, it's nothing I can't clean-up in about 20 motivated minutes.) And after a very long struggle, I'm okay with that.

Find the humor

It's been a couple of weeks since my last post. After having seven snow days, the kids were sick, then I got sick...I found myself losing my sense of humor.

It was beyond a mild cabin fever. A friend's facebook status read, "I'm starting to feel like a caged animal." I wouldn't have been surprised if some of my mommy friends started a riot if we had ANOTHER school day...my outlook was becoming rather bleak.

And it was during this time that I started to notice my children's sense of humor (ironically, I was starting to lose mine during this time frame). My five-year-old daughter is really developing some great comedic timing. 

I've successfully convinced Sophia that she's not a grown-up until she's 30.
"Mom, when I'm 31, can I have my own computer and a phone with games on it?" she asked.
"Yes. But you'll have to buy your own," I told her, barely looking up from my work.
She said, "Well, I'll need more MONEY!"
"Yup. You'll need a job," I stated matter-of-factly.
"......And I can drive a car..." she hesitantly said with a giant smile.

          Wow, I walked right into that one, didn't I?

My husband and I view life differently. He's a Big Picture kinda guy. He communicates his day through headlines and generalities. I'm an analyst, detailing things to an annoying level. And I LIVE in the details-numbers, percentages, action items. My husband is an ever-loving optimist, even to a fault. I know he'd describe me as a pessimist. But I prefer to call myself a realist.

But it's our differing perspectives that provide balance - both to each other and in our home. I have to remember that even though seven snow days+sick kids+sick mom leads me unravelling and running around like Chicken Little shouting the alarm "The sky is falling! The sky is falling!" It's really not. Sure, the house might not be as clean as I'd like it. But that's okay. It's about the big picture.

My husband's great at quietly reminding me, "Are the kids going to remember how clean our house was or the time we spent playing with them on the floor?"

And perhaps instead of stopping to smell the roses as the cliché goes, maybe I need to pause and find the humor. There's numerous studies on the benefits of laughing. It reduces stress. A good sense of humor may help stave off dementia in older adults. It enhances the learning environment in the classroom. It improves the immune system. It might even help prevent workplace burnout.

So, find the humor in your day. I aim to find more humor in my everyday life by lightening up my frustrations with work, the house, the kids, the husband. Looking for a place to start? Try viewing life from the perspective of a five-year-old. Life is full of wonderment, adventure, magic...and everything is funny.

Kids: They're always listening

My three-year-old son is an interesting creature. While his older sister was demanding to do things on her own at an early age, he prefers to have things done for him. When he asks you to help, what he really means is, "Please do it FOR me." I'm certain that, given the choice, he would allow me to spoon-feed him at three. He's perfectly content having people do things FOR him, rather than doing things on his own...the issues here are for another blog.

This morning, on the way to preschool, my three-year-old son was asking his five-year-old sister for help. She, sick of helping him all the time, replied quite dramatically:

"Aidan, I've been helping you for YEARS. I help you with the water. I help you with the lights. I help you with your seatbelt. I even play with you when I don't want to. Figure it out on your OWN."

My five-year-old daughter (5 pushing 30) is quite an interesting girl herself. When she was two, her favorite phrase was, "Weeeeeel, aaaaaaaaaactually..." The daycare workers at the gym always got a chuckle at her because they said she didn't speak like other kids her age.

Yesterday, we were well in the middle of our naptime negotations. She'd been up and down several times and she interrupted me working for the umpteenth time asking for a "mooch and a hug." I explained that I was working, but I'd give her a mooch and a hug AFTER her nap. She held her ground, crossed her arms and threatened,

"I'll just keep bugging you until you give me a mooch and a hug."

Where does she LEARN this stuff??? Oh, wait. From ME. So all those times I thought she wasn't listening, wasn't paying attention, could've cared less - turns out she WAS listening more than I could've ever imagned.

Well, lesson learned. Be mindful of my words and my actions, because my children are learning from me (Eeee gads).

Magical Snow!

Well, folks, it's been snowing here...LOTS. We had another snow day yesterday (after 3 just last week). I can't believe all the snow we keep getting.

I was picking the kids up from preschool on Wednesday and there were just a few flurries starting to flutter around. I was in a hurry, impatiently rushing the kids to the car because we had to pick up some last-minute necessities - like bread and milk - before the nine inches of snow came that afternoon/night left me stranded without staples.

Sophia asked me, "Mom, do you know where the snow comes from?"

I was pondering explaining the varying types of precipitation, depending on the season and the weather but I remembered  my Parents as Teachers Parent Educator always encouraged me to give the simplest answer. "The sky," I answered.  

With a twinkle in her eye and a super big smile, she whispered loudly in my ear, "It's from the NORFTH Pole!" [By the way, this is NOT a typo. She adds an "f" to the word North.]

Wow. That just caught me by surprise. Here I am sick of the cold, the snow and all the snow days...and she's EXCITED because she thinks it's magically from the North Pole (where Santa and his elves live). I've been complaining to all the rest of my mommy friends about what a hassle winter is that I forgot to enjoy it. 

It's exhilarating to see the world through my kids' eyes. It's full of adventure, excitement and fun. Isn't this what living life - and I mean really experiencing life to its fullest - is about? Finding wonder and magic in the little things? I'll do my best to remember this...since it's Friday and the weather forecasts are calling for MORE snow tonight and Sunday.

You want me to do MOMMY WORK?

Tonight, I started the beginning stages of a preschool project. It's an "All About Me" Poster that encourages kids to share more about themselves to their classmates. They creatively list their friends, their pets, their favorites (books, colors, foods) and what they want to be when they grow up.

My daughter's was due in October. (FYI: She wants to be a princess fairy when she grows up, so I expect this to change at least a few more times before she settles on something more concrete.) And now it's time to work on my son's All About Me Poster. When I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, he replied, "A fireman. A car guy." For those of you who aren't fluent with that rather specific dialect of "three-year-old-boy," that means he wants to be the guy DRIVING the firetruck. This was crushing news to my husband who has ambitions to become a police officer.

We tried to explain to the kids what WE do...Obviously, dad's job is way more exciting. They understood it better than mine. When I asked them if they want to do what I do, my son said, "You want us to do MOMMY WORK?"

"Well, I do more than just mommy work," I tried to explain. "Do you know what I do?"

"You do laundry," my daughter said.

"And she cooks, too," piped in my son.

"And she makes lunch," added my daughter.

"And breakfast, too," he said.

I'm a grant writer, so I attempted to explain at their level. "Well, I do all that. Aaaaaaand, I write letters to help people find money to help more people. Isn't that cool? Would you like to do that when you grow up?"

"That's not cool!" replied my son.

I wondered how could I have been working from home all this time (and griping at my husband that it sometimes feel like he's the only who has a REAL job around here) and for them to not know what I do? I've strived to ensure the kids have the most present kind of mom who's around nearly all the time to make them lunch, be here when they awake from their naps...and just BE here, that possibly I've forgotten to tell them about WHAT I'm doing.

I know what you're thinking. I can't expect a 5 year-old and and a 3 year-old to understand an occupation, let alone a vocation. But I think it's never too young to start inspiring kids (at least  mine) with an ambition and a drive to make a difference. This is one particular area where I think my parents excelled. It's important to find a career that rewards you financially, but that's just the beginning. I hope as they grow into adults, they'll be prepared to take on the world as individuals who strive for greatness and make a difference within their sphere of influence (however large or small that may become).

Who knew rest was so crucial?

Rest is the key to my sanity

I'm writing this from my kitchen table on the SECOND snow day - happily trapped at home because it's either too snowy or too cold to venture out into the great outdoors. Actually, we played in the snow yesterday afternoon and had a blast.

After wiping away the tears from my daughter's eyes, since she CAN'T go to school for the second day in a row, we seem to be hitting our stride. The kids are getting along better than expected - playing AND sharing well. I'm getting lots of small details done around here. The past two days have gone remarkably well.

I'm so pleased to announce that after going to bed after what seemed like way too early (10:00 p.m.) and getting a full night's sleep, I'm surprised how rested and refreshed I feel.

As the house gets more under control (and I get some much-needed space between myself and the craziness from the holidays), I'm starting to feel more calm and relaxed. Instead of having days that feel like an episode of "24" where the world is nearly about to reach an apocolyptic end, I'm starting to feel like I can focus on other projects: such as building a business and organizing my life.

For me, this means I'm cleaning out my email and reorganizing what comes in...something I rarely take the time to do but have needed to do for months. And for the kids, that means we're doing some MAJOR clean-up of their rooms, their clothes and their toys. I'm finding myself categorizing trucks vs. trains vs. cars vs. pirates vs. action figures OR princesses vs. fairies and dollhouse furniture vs. castle items.

So perhaps the key is refreshing sleep, a cup of hot coffee and playing in the snow. This is exactly what I needed to re-set.

LIKE VS. LOVE

I love overhearing the dialogue between my kids. It's always so interesting and insightful into the way their minds work and process information. Today's discussion was about like and love and went something like this: 

     AIDAN: Jesus loves us. 

     SOPHIA: And God does too.

     AIDAN: What about Santa?

     SOPHIA: He likes us.

     AIDAN: What about our animals?

     SOPHIA: I don’t know. I think they like us, too.

     AIDAN: What about our toys?

     SOPHIA: Mmm. They love us.

I hope that as they grow into adults, they know that I like AND love them. These aren't mutually exclusive feelings...especially after this rough week transitioning back into the routine of school.

I have to admit, I've done poorly at maintaining my New Year's resolution of going to bed at a decent time. Christmas break was comprised of late nights, sweet-tooth snacking and leisurely mornings. That abruptly ended THIS week, when I begrudgingly relented to the school schedule.

We've been late to preschool every day this week. And my productivity has been disappointing. However, the sliver of a silver lining is that the house has been cleaner. Kids are doing their part in picking up their toys and clutter. So, perhaps I'm making progress on the clutter front.

This week was a mixed bag: a few small progressive steps were made during my WAR ON TOYS & CLUTTER, but the underlying symptom of my chaos can only be attributed to me. Next week'll be better...hopefully.