It Just Makes Me Smile

Chris (3), Ann (4 1/2), and Jane (15 months)

Because I'm Having a Hard Time Savoring the "Brownness"

Like most of you, I've gotten into Facebook. I like reading my friends' statuses and looking at their pictures. I sometimes try to post witty little status updates, though I'm sure they're never as clever as I'd like to think they might be.

Today however, I posted a status update to get some sympathy. Truthfully, I did the same last night as well.

My run in with the "brownness" started last night as I pulled a load of laundry from the dryer. I was going to fold it as I watched that show with a couple of parents, a set of twins, and sextuplets. (Yes, I've been sucked into that as well.)

I was a bit surprised to find that every single article of clothing but one was covered in something brown. It looked like chocolate which meant it also looked an awful lot like something else. I went through the entire load desperately hoping that I hadn't accidentally tossed a dirty diaper in with the wash. (Trust me, that could totally happen around here.)

I didn't come up with a dirty diaper, but I did find a brown crayon wrapper. Apparently the warm/cold cycle was just enough to melt the crayon so that it bled all over the clothes, but didn't actually wash out of them. Fun.

So, I posted about that on Facebook. It felt good to know I wasn't the only one who had had a laundry mishap.

Today when I posted about something brown, it was, unfortunately, in regard to the stinky brown stuff.

I'll spare you the details except to say that there was poo on my couch. Yuck. I'd like to say I reacted well when I saw what happened. But, I'll be honest and say that my voice got a bit too loud with my son and I'm pretty sure I made him feel horrible, which of course, made me fell horrible. (At least it did a bit after the fact once everything was a bit cleaner and better smelling.)

Anyways, a friend of mine commented on my status that she has had all kinds of things grace her couch. Since she went on to say how thankful she is for Resolve, I'm pretty sure she wasn't talking about lovely things. She then added that perhaps when the kids are grown and on their own, we'll have clean houses. "Until then," she wrote, "savor the brownness."

You see, that is the problem. I'm not savoring the "brownness" right now. Instead, I'm dreading it and resenting it. I'm into this parenting thing when all is going well and we're all cheerful and being kind. But then we all wake up in the morning and don't always make the best choices. The fighting, fussing, and mess-making just gets old.

It makes me tired. I let it make me cranky. It isn't really a pleasant way to to share my days with my little ones.

Honestly, it is probably why my blog has been a bit quiet these past few weeks and perhaps even months. I'm having a hard time savoring those annoying moments. I'm even having a hard time at least appreciating that I can turn them into silly little blog posts. (Gasp!)

I was thinking about that this afternoon and remembering a billboard I once saw. It said something about little kids making big stinky (I added that word on my own) messes. Then, it encouraged the reader to "parent with patience."

It's so easy to say and so hard to do. I'm so glad I've got a Helper. I know with Him, I'll somehow learn to "savor the brownness." Even the stinky kind. Even when it seems impossible.

Pictures of This Mama

So, the same night that I received this picture in my inbox,

my daughter drew this of me.

I like them both, but I'm partial to the second one. I adore the artist, and it just makes me look so, well, thin! (Just ignore the fact that I seem to have no appendages!)

Happy Mother's Day!

Good Intentions

I dutifully cut up broccoli and placed it in a bowl in the fridge. I made sure to put it within easy reach for the kiddos. (Hey, a mom can dream, right.)



But, I had to laugh as I placed the bowl on the shelf. Check this out:

I think you and I both know that little hands (and Mommy hands) will be much more likely to reach a little farther into the fridge for what is currently behind the broccoli.

So, this week I learned that I might want to be careful about everything I place on the lowest shelf of the refrigerator.

Excuse me, I'm off to put The Sneaky Chef and Deceptively Delicious on hold at the library.

Please visit Jo-Lynne's to see what others learned this week.

No Words

I wrote several weeks ago about a dear friend and her sweet girl who need prayer.

I had the privilege of chatting with my friend earlier this evening. She said that sometimes there really are "no words."

Yeah.

What does one say to a friend who will soon deliver a precious baby girl who is very, very sick?

There are no words, but prayers? Now that is a different story. That we can do without ceasing. Please join me, and if you'd like to read their story, you can go here.

Just a Moment

He stood at the backdoor glancing out at the rain. His blond curls were tousled and what is left of his toddler belly poked out from under his pajamas.

Suddenly, he opened the backdoor and said in as authoritative a voice as he could muster, "Rain, GO away!"

I both wanted to laugh and hug him while asking him to stay this way forever. Since I do not have the power to make time stand still, I decided I better write it down.

Perhaps one day I'll look into the eyes of my grown son and see glimpses of that two-year-old that just melts my heart.

Now, if only he did have the power to give us a breather from all these April showers!

Don't Cry Over Your Spilt Newman's Own Salad Dressing

Making a salad takes effort. It just seems a lot easier to skip the raw veggies, you know?

However, since I'm a big believer in good nutrition, I dutifully wash and chop up veggies for salads and snacks.

Do you know what is very, very frustrating after spending time making a lovely salad? (The same amount of time that it would have taken to make a dozen sandwiches.) Let me tell you.

It is very, very frustrating to take out the bottle of salad dressing, twist off the lid and then pour only to realize that you forgot that the bottle doesn't have that little cap thing with the small hole allowing for a slow flow. (I'm just sure that is the technical name.)

Just ask my two-year-old son. This is what his dinner plate looked like after his very sweet mama let him pour his own dressing. Oops.

Now, Newman's Own people, I realize you probably aren't reading this even though I put your name in the title. Here's the thing. We are very loyal to your products. In fact, I buy your salad dressings almost exclusively. You would think I would remember that you don't make your lids for busy mamas like me, but I don't. Therefore, all too often a perfectly good salad is ruined because of the poor design of these salad dressing bottles. (Some might call it user error, but whatever.)

Would it really be too tough to throw a mom a bone, especially one who is dutifully trying to feed her kids in a healthful way? Truly, we don't need any more reasons for toddler tantrums around here.

That is all.