Little Message

Ahh, Mitchell... So mysterious to me at times, yet so sweet and thoughtful in his own unique way.

Just when I begin to wonder what is going on in his little head, he surprises me with a little message to let me know what he is thinking.

I found this little message - Mitchell-style, on my bathroom counter today:

How do I know it was Mitchell?  I just do.  

Treasure Hunt

Mitchell is such a mystery to me.  One day, he is quiet and moody, answering my probing questions with one word answers and funny "looks."  The next day, he is skipping in excitement and bursting to tell me stories of what happened at school and his plans for building a spaceship "that really flies!"  One day, a hug annoys him and a kiss?  yuk!  No way!  The next day, he just can't get enough ticking and wrestling and hugging.  One day, he prefers to find his own entertainment and doesn't seem to notice me.  Other days, he just can't seem to let me walk from one room to the next without following me.

He is constantly surprising me, and yesterday was a classic example.  It was classic "Mitchell."

I had to make a phone call.  I wanted privacy while I did so.  I explained to Mitchell that he was to stay where he was, playing quietly and alone for just a few minutes.  He nodded in agreement.

When I finished my phone about 10 minutes later, he was standing right inside the door, hopping in place, big grin on his face.  He definitely had been up to something and was literally hopping up and down waiting for me to discover it.  I smiled and asked him what was up and he said, "Mom?  Do you notice any shopping bags hidden around the house?"

I looked around and yes, indeed, I did notice a few plastic shopping bags poking out of drawers and stashed under chairs.  "This is a treasure hunt and I hid special treasures in the shopping bags and you get to find them!  C'mon!"

Each time I found a new bag, I opened it up and inside was something on which he had "written" a message, which he would read out loud to me:

The bag under the kitchen table said "You are invited to a birthday party!"

The bag behind the couch said "I love you, Mom."

The bag in the bathroom said "It's pizza day!"

Behind the chair in his treasure room was a note saying "You're the best mom ever!"

Under Dad's desk in his office, the note said "I'll give you flowers in just a second!"

One under the couch read "I love your guts!"

On the stairs, the note said "You're the prettiest mom in the world!"

In my coat closet, tied around the mop, was a bag with a note saying "I'll meet you at the movie theater!"

Sticking out of my rain boot - "Meet me later.  I'll be at the flower store.  Get whatever you want!"

In a potted plant, he hid a note saying "Let's go to the crystal store.  There's jewelry there!"

And it all was intended to lead me in a treasure hunt to the grand prize (which was the first thing I noticed but was instructed that I did NOT see that yet and had to wait to see it until the end) which was hidden under a kitchen towel on the floor behind the table.  He bounced over to the spot, whipped the towel off, revealing an apple, a glass of water, and a pile of cereal on a paper towel.  "Now we get to have a special snack together!  Don't you just love this?"

As we sat on the floor, eating and drinking our special little snack together, just the two of us, I asked him what made him think to do such an adventurous and special thing for and with me.

"Oh, you know... I just thought you were special and you'd like it of course!"

I picked him up and squeezed him.  I must have squeezed a bit too hard and too long though because, true Mitchell style, he groaned, "Ok... That's enough hugging..."  and he ran off to find some other adventure.

Doing My Part

So today I ditched Matt with the kids and after hitting up the gym (all by myself!!!), I ran some errands. One of these errands was to return something.

I felt great. I felt like I made some money, man! I'm pulling my weight, for once! I made $35 today!

I don't know about you, but I find it hilarious that I am proud of myself for "unspending" $35 and calling that an accomplishment! Perhaps I should overspend more often just so I can return it and "make money" more often!

Saturdays...

I spend all week long looking forward to Saturday. I'm not sure why I so look forward to Saturdays though, because it is almost always my worst day of the week. I'm not sure what it is about a Saturday that turns me into a grump; perhaps it is the craziness with no schedule. Perhaps it is how messy the house gets. Maybe I have too high expectations of everyone else in my family for what a "perfect" Saturday should look like.

I should love them. No rush to get ready for school. No making lunches at 7 am. No rushing getting the right kid to the right school on time. Staying in jammies and drinking lots of cups of coffee with my husband. A long long run. This all sounds great, right?

And, knowing me as my husband does, he tries to keep things moving. He gets all the boys washing the cars or doing feats of strength in the backyard. He takes them to the track with him. We watch movies.

I still start falling apart by the end of the day. I need to figure out a way to better enjoy Saturdays. Anyone else get a bit crazy on the weekend? How do you keep busy yet still relax on a day with no schedule?

For My Mom

I can't tell you how many times I have wondered, "How did my mom do it?" I have one less child than she does, and I don't work from home, yet I find myself wondering how anyone could handle more than I do sometimes. My mom did.

Mom, you fed us, clothed us, drove us to school. You kept us clean and saw that we did our chores. You showed us how to work hard and make sacrifices for your family.

You braided my hair every Saturday night so my hair would be pretty on Sunday mornings. You made amazing dresses for me for Easter Sunday. You were always on my side when my skirts were "too short" at school. You taught me to cook and how to take care of the entire kitchen from start to finish. You made me my own cook book full of your own hand-written recipes which I couldn't do without. You saved things from my childhood that you treasured and thought I would one day treasure myself. You wrote down all the silly or funny things I did and said.

I may not always do things the same way you did them when your kids were younger, but your ways are always on my mind, weighing in on my decision-making processes. My life is different than yours was when I was the age my children are now, but we have so much in common still as mothers. I am the good mother I am today because I was taught by you what a great mother is! I love you!

Nothing To Prove

Have you ever noticed how defensive some stay-at-home mothers can be when the subject of "work" comes up? There are fewer and fewer of us out there, I am discovering, but those of us who are left often feel the need to let everyone know just how hard we work.

Questions such as "What do you do for work?" are elaborately answered, highlighting mundane details: "Yeah, I work, but no one pays me! I cook three meals a day at least, clean bathrooms and kitchens, make beds, wash and fold laundry, nanny, teach, pay bills, walk the dog, drive my kids around, volunteer at school and church, and get myself dressed too! I never get a day off and I work nights too! Do you even realize how valuable I actually am? My husband couldn't afford me if he had to pay me..."

You rarely hear "I don't have an outside job. I get to stay home and take care of my kids and my husband and my house (and, let's be honest, sneak in some things I want to do too.)"

I admit, I used to be sensitive on this subject as well. Even now, I sometimes feel the need to remind everyone just what my job entails. But this picture of a stay-at-home-mom is not an accurate one. It shows only one side.

We fail to mention that, for most of us, this is the choice we most wanted and made. We get to spend the day with the young people who mean most to us. We don't tell you that once in a while, we have absolutely no plans for the day but are going to just make brownies, read stories, build monsters with Legos, and perhaps watch a movie.

We fail to mention that if we so choose, we can sometimes stay in our jammies until mid-morning or even afternoon. Yes, we have to talk to kids all day, but we also don't have to prepare for or present meetings with clients which require real brain power. It takes just about all the brain power we have to make wise decisions as to how to raise our precious kids.

We have to constantly grocery shop and prepare meals (if your kids are even close to as hungry as mine seem to always be), but we also get to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch and no one has to know! We can (sometimes) take a shower in the middle of the day, and, if we are very lucky, even sneak in a nap when the chaos is on pause for long enough! (Ok, maybe that last one only applies if you have 2 or fewer kids...)

When I hear moms talk about how hard they work, I sympathise; I do. I have even been known to join in and commiserate. But I also hear it and make a mental note not to do the same. I haven't always felt this way, but I don't feel like I have anything to prove anymore. My kids are proof that I work. I may, at times, feel under appreciated, but I also, at times, feel like I don't work hard enough either and I'm flying under the radar, trying to go about my days undetected lest someone discover me and force me to get to work. We all make our choices. Stick with yours, make it work, and be proud of it!

That's Just How I Feel

To those of you who have missed my regular posts: sorry. There has been an ever-abundant supply of things to write about. My boys are no less imaginative, creative, rambunctious, mischievous, or energetic than usual. The problem lies with mom. When I dragged myself up the stairs yesterday evening, I stepped on something at the top and just stopped and stared at it a bit. I knew exactly how he felt!

All I can say about myself the last few weeks is pictured right there in that sad dinosaur - deflated. I'd like to lay down on the floor with him and just be flat for a while. I am positive I could sleep there, if given a few minutes to try.

My life is wonderful and I have no real reason to complain or wish for something else, but I have been doing the exact same thing for almost 6 years now and I do feel deflated. My energy must have transferred from me into my kids, my health is going wacky, and I have dark circles under my eyes. I fall asleep in strange places at strange times of the day, and I have had a constant headache for going on two weeks now.

There is no cure for what I have, other than to find a better way to maintain a healthier balance in my life. In trying to give all my energy to my kids, I have run out, therefore am a worse mother for it because I just can't muster the strength to keep it up. What this "better balance" will look like, I am still contemplating. I suspect not much will change, but we will all move from the phase we are currently in to a new one naturally and things will balance out on their own.

But for now, this sad, deflated dinosaur and I will get by with what air we have left in us. Judging by the fierce protectivness the boys show over that flat dinosaur (which has a hole in it so can't be blown back up, by the way) which is demonstrated when I suggest we throw it away, I suspect they want to keep me also and don't even notice that I am a bit... deflated.