How I know my little guy is almost two...

I was going to publish a terrible twos top ten list - but realized I've done that in the past. At least I'm consistent in not enjoying this age! So since a picture (or two) speak a thousand (or two) words, here's my ode to this terrible age, and a real look at how my days and minutes are spent lately:

a minute later
I pray for mothers of toddlers daily. God help us all.

Nesting

I’m not quite sure when my fascination with birds began. For as long as I can remember, my father was an avid bird watcher, and when Oma visited us several summers ago I watched her enjoyment of the variety and quantity of birds in our backyard area. She taught me several of their calls and I can still hear “pretty birdie” from the self-absorbed cardinals. I love it. I’m becoming infatuated with all of our birds… though I have yet to pick up a book or begin a study that I know will fill hours of future quiet time (once the kids have grown up!) Right now, the fascination is watching the gathering of materials for nest-making, and even the nest-making itself.

Our backyard seems to contain wonderful nooks and crannies for nesting. Unfortunately, many of them are not safe (from little hands) nor will they remain after we make our grand exodus. Last spring some birds found their way into our shed and made a nest in a stored potty and another in the Christmas tree stand. So far this year, we’ve had to remove nest-in-the-makings from a camping chair, our recycling bin, and a croc that was left out back. I’m just waiting to see one in the diaper champ hole right outside our back door! Our water table has to be cleaned out and re-filled for The Toddler frequently, because I can’t make myself scare off the birds who wait in line for their turn in their self-appointed bird bath early every morning. Their songs are rejuvenating and watching their flights and fights inspiring. I just feel badly each time we have to remove twigs, grass and other odds and ends from a poor location and then watch them frantically searching for their chosen location and future home… now gone.

Our real estate agent says that it’s all about location and square footage… most everything else can be altered or improved upon. Moving your home, a more difficult task. As we work on our search for the right location to raise our family and build our nest, it can be frustrating to have someone tell you what appears to be a desirable home is just in a horrible neighborhood. Searching for the right location is obviously a talent and an important part of relocation. Yet it’s an exciting time as we gather all the little bits of useful tools and information that will help in the decision-making of our first home. Important also, because I don’t want to have to start this whole process all over again and have to move: a lesson from the birds.

Bubble Gun = Hours of Fun

We brought one of Little E's birthday presents, a bubble gun, with us on his "last day of preschool picnic". (And yes, my little guy had a birthday and is now, sob, the big FIVE!) I cannot tell you how much fun we had with this... even though my shorts were soaked from being "shot." Once The Toddler awoke from his impromptu nap, he confiscated the bubble gun and spent the rest of the day making millions of bubbles. So far I have only changed the batteries once, but I have refilled the bubble formula what feels like an infinite amount of times!

Smiles Across the Miles

My sweet sister sent me some floral smiles from far far away. She said she would rather have taken my kids for an afternoon or met me for a lunch somewhere... but for now this was her contribution to my self-inflicted gloom. Who doesn't love flowers on their doorstep after taking four kids to the dentist?! The crumbs on my table look so much better with a smile and daisies in the center! I suppose that could be an analogy of sorts. Thank you!

Kindergarten Closes

It wasn't until I overheard Mr. T absently telling his big sister about how he did his math with M&Ms that I realized he may be in for a few surprises at "real" school next year. I hope he gets to write in a nature notebook or journal of some sort daily - and I hope he gets to do it outside at his leisure. I hope that when he asks his teacher to read just one more chapter, he or she will. And I hope that if all he wants to do is read the ENTIRE book in one sitting, he may get that chance. I hope he continues to love and learn about Greek mythology and the history behind the ancient and early Greeks (he loves Homer's Odyssey). I'm hoping he gets to do science more often than once a week - since I've struggled to keep that side of him entertained. I'm also hoping he continues to read and write about things that interest him, to research in books and online any question or inquiry that pops into his ever-thinking mind. I hope he goes on field-trips often. I hope he is introduced to numerous artists - both of art and music - and that he is given the opportunity to learn about their works and their lives. I hope his teacher loves and appreciates him and smiles everyday, in fact I hope they share laughs and belly-aches over the fun that comes with learning. I hope he gets to create in every way imaginable. I hope he will be told he can do anything in the world and become whatever he sets his mind to. I hope putting him in public school is the right thing to do.

Unsure, Unmotivated; but Understood

I’ve hit a lull. I have zero reasons to be in this: we are all healthy, unlike many others our future employment is secure, I’m not pregnant, and yet I’m crabby. I am completely unmotivated, I despise any and all obligations to which I’ve committed myself, I can’t sleep, I can hardly eat and I’m not enjoy any of this. I’m disappointed frequently, and find little enjoyment in anything. I know this sounds like a commercial for some sort of anti-depressant, but I’m hoping it doesn’t get to that point and this is just part of our “transition” and I transition out of it quickly.

Despite knowing where we will be next fall, we have so many things still up in the air. If one more person asks me when we are moving I’ll probably bite their head off. I wish I knew. I abhor change. I’m not excited to have to get to know everything new about a new town: new school(s) for the kids, a new ward, new parks, new grocery stores, new streets to drive and, hopefully, new friends. I know from experience it takes us about a year to feel like we are starting to enjoy a new town. And a year is starting to feel like it will last an eternity, especially as the days are dragging on at present. I’m starting to worry that we are going to absolutely hate our new town and regret every decision that drove us WAY out WEST. And yet at the same time I can’t wait to get out of here. I’m sick and tired of fitting six of us in this tiny place, tired of some of the annoying things and people with which we co-exist, bored really of the day-to-day grind and ready for something different. Just not sure that something different is a big change.

I know I make no sense. And so I’ve kept most of this, and more, tucked up inside me. This weekend I let go of my escapism-reading long enough to utter a row of expletives in my too-small home and then spent several sleepless nights talking with Mr. Man, who surprisingly seems to understand, and amidst all my abnormalities and polar tendencies thinks my feelings are normal and expected. He loves me. He hasn’t said so, but I’m sure he’s thinking a line from the movie Twilight:“Your mood swings are starting to give me whiplash” – or however it goes. Feeling understood gave me the boost to attend a piano recital I had no desire to go to, the motivation to go to church.. and sub in primary, and even to smile on the outside when there are no smiles inside.

So that’s that. I’m starting to try to plan a fun summer, but in the back of my mind I know that any plan I make has great odds of being tossed to the wind. For now, I promised my understanding husband that I would pretend to be happy and hopefully it will catch on and become not only surreal, but real and normal as well.

Comment Moderation

Earlier this week I decided that I was going to leave a comment on every blog I read. Not necessarily each post, but in each sitting of reading an individual's blog I would leave a comment. It's been fun. I'm not a "big" commenter, and rarely comment on blogs whose author's I don't know personally - and now there are a lot of them! So I've thrown all cares to the world: (What if "they" - these wonderful blogs which I stalk - come and read MY measly little blog? What will "they" think of my commenting on "their" blog?)

At any rate, I feel more involved in my reading, feel like a better friend to those of you I do know and love, and it's also limited my casual blog reading. I will sit and browse my reader and think, "now, do I really have time to read AND comment?" And I've played a lot more games with my kids this week, because, honestly, that takes less thought! So, are you up for the challenge?

Family Ties

We've had a lot of contention in our home lately. I think birthdays sort of do that: personal attention is used as leverage, and new gifts and belongings used to manipulate and bribe. At any rate, it drives me mad watching sibling rivalry - even though I am quite aware that it is normal, expected and probably passed down directly through my genes. However, I have a great desire to raise children who will love and look out for each other, who will become adults who will continue to encourage, praise and protect one another. I would love for them to have awesome relationships, and it would be really nice if they could play well together too. And so the fighting is discouraging. But it also makes the moments like the one pictured above all the sweeter. When, without any prompting, one will see a need and come to the other's aid. When the words "I love you" are spoken freely and with meaning. When sharing takes place without any expected trade-off, and when a favourite story is read by a beginning reader and not a word of complaint is muttered but only ongoing support for the struggle. These are the family ties that bind. It's what gives me hope.

Commencement

I stole this from an email my husband wrote, and since it was mostly HIS moment, I wanted to share HIS words:

"It was a little surreal at first, but when I walked across the stage I felt so much happiness and had the biggest grin. This has been so long in the making. I remember so clearly looking at schools in undergraduate in 2001 with the goal of completing my doctorate. I knew that it would be such a long journey. These last few years I have been wound so tight worrying and striving to meet every requirement to complete my degree. With each passing milestone, I have discredited them and tempered celebrating knowing that there were so many still to come. Walking across that stage lifted such a burden knowing that I had accomplished what I had set out to do and that I just didn't get a job, but completed something enormous that I had undertaken. It was even more enjoyable having all of my family in attendance."

Surprisingly, I am still mostly speechless about the whole ordeal. It was so special and I couldn't be prouder. Hopefully I will find my words and be able to express them legibly before the emotions dissipate. I feel so lucky to be married to such a smart, devoted man - and bonus, he's also gorgeous!

My Second Job

I really do consider taking on homeschooling this year like taking on a second job. I have had to put in more hours (of what free time my first job as a "mother" offers), and I've learned a lot about myself, my son, teaching and have even grown in some of my lesser-strength subjects, such as history. Depending on the day, or the week, I will tell you I love homeschooling or I will tell you that I will never do it again and my son would be better off in a classroom. Because I am an admitted perfectionist, I have a hard time not meeting all of our learning goals, or taking off a few days last week when everyone was sick and I had no sub to call in. I always think I could be doing this "homeschooling" thing better... not quite sure that I'm giving my best or providing my son with what he deserves. Worried, at other times, that my other children are neglected when I focus on the one whose learning I am entirely responsible for. At the same time, I have included the others in more learning than ever before, and we've all shared a lot of new experiences together because of this new occupation I undertook.

I do think that I am starting to experience "teaching" burn-out. After ten long months I suppose that's to be expected. I hold those who homeschool for years on a pedestal, and those who homeschool multiple children even higher - and if you have a toddler screaming for attention and destroying your home, you are an angel. I comfort myself with thinking that every teacher everywhere is now counting down the days until summer break. And yes, there will be a definite summer break in this house!

Don't get me wrong, it has been a wonderful experience that I truly wouldn't give up. Change, maybe, improve upon, perhaps... but I wouldn't give it up. I have found such joy in watching my son learn, and knowing that I helped. Nobody else has a greater influence on a child than a loving teacher, and I was able to dedicate this school year to being that for him. We have laughed so much together and really gotten to know each other better as well. I have so many thoughts about this year in review: it's been hard work, but worthwhile.

This is also the last year that I will have three children at home all the time! Next year we are excited for a fabulous new school system and are thrilled with Mr. T's health, and so our three eldest will be going to school while I am home all day with "the toddler". Should be fun!

I think I need a raise.

The Real Mother's Day

So I'm hoping everyone who was going to get the flu in my family has gotten it. I know I sure did. The one day my husband was working abroad and I was on my death bed! I think my kids watched 7 hours of TV (not in a row, mind you, I made them do little jobs and write thank you notes that are well overdue in between... and yes, I had all four children home since the two in school were also still recovering). Needless to say I am not looking forward to cleaning my toilets. Too much information...sorry.

I thought I had recovered quite nicely, when it hit me again yesterday afternoon full-force. I was back to bed while my wonderful husband (who doesn't have much on his plate except for writing a dissertation and such) took the kids to the grocery store to give me peace and quiet and try to figure out what to have for dinner. The kids scrambled to gather their money since the dollar store is conveniently located next to the grocery store and somehow they haven't yet learned that dollar store toys break by the end of the week just in time for a new weekly allowance. Anyways, apparently two of my kids, upon entering the grocery store, had their sweet little hearts set on getting flowers for their sick Mommy. Mr. Man talked them down in price a bit, and they ended up paying most of the price, and used all of their money with nothing to spare for the coveted dollar store toys.

When they returned home, I was greeted with the beautiful arrangement pictured above. I laughed and cried. In "purging" for our move we have gotten rid of all our vases but one (which was full of paper-made flowers at the time) and so the kids creatively thought to use the blender. As long as nobody plugs it in to make flower smoothies, I think we'll be just fine. The real cincher too was the sacrifice of their money. Several months ago when we started "saving" for a house, we decided to stop doing weekly allowances as well so that each member of our family could sacrifice and help save. Since that time, they have counted their money frequently and always kept it locked up tightly. For them to spend what little money they have on flowers for me was such an incredible gesture... and brought so many of my gestures and actions into question.

For me, yesterday was the "real" mother's day. Since it wasn't designed and designated, nor demanded; their love and recognition of me and of motherhood was both sincere and priceless. Aren't I lucky to have flowers in a blender on my bedside table?