a list & chart kind of mom

Are you a chart mom?  A list mom?

I put everything on a chart or a list. I live by my agenda. Looking at my agenda is the first thing I look at every morning and the last thing I look at every night. I would be lost without my lists, graphs, charts, and agenda. 

I have a chart by the front door with the kids activities for the week.

I have a chart in my room of household chores… now, just because this chart exists does not guarantee that anything will get done, but it is there as a reference and to make me feel a bit more organized with the endless housework.

The most amazing chart in my home though… is the toothbrush chart.

No, it’s not for me… I can surly remember to brush my teeth, now using toothpaste is a whole other story. You know about that though. If you don’t know, read this prior blog… http://thelakemagazine.net/archives/2609

Now, every morning my darling devils protest the morning routine of brushing their teeth. Evenings is not so bad but for some reason every morning they stand in the bathrooms with their lips sealed shut while I practically pry their mouths open to insert a toothbrush.

I don’t know about you, but I insist that they brush there teeth twice a day. Teeth are important! For goodness sakes, we are going to take care of them in our house!

I have a friend who tells me about her three year old daughter who loves to brush her teeth and floss.. I couldn’t imagine. She says her daughter will stay in the bathroom brushing her teeth and flossing all morning. See, now that should have been my child.

Needless to say the toothbrush chart has been a blessing in our home and it is something I wanted to share with you all.

Drum roll please…

http://www.freeprintablebehaviorcharts.com/oral%20hygiene%20charts%20pdf/Brush%20Teeth%20Chart.pdf

This is the chart we use. I print a new one every 4 weeks, let them color it, then as the days go by we add some awesome little glittery star stickers to our chart. Yes, my children are still young enough that glittery star stickers will work… Who ever has all their stickers on the chart for each week gets to go pick out a new toothbrush.

This last week the kids finished their first month of continual teeth-brushing… Troy went and picked out a Spiderman toothbrush and Lightening McQueen toothpaste, while Sophia picked out a Snoopy toothbrush and Sponge Bob (Who I do NOT like! I think that is why she picked it!) toothpaste. Sophia did inform me that next time she would like silly bands instead of a new toothbrush though.

For the rest of you mothers out there who fight the morning battle of brushing teeth… may this chart prove to be as helpful for you as it was for me. Now if they would just not be so messy, but that may be asking too much.

Going to the beach with children

We are in Ft. Lauderdale until tomorrow morning. I have had a bit of ‘bloggers-block’ lately. We have been so busy this summer. Going on trips, visiting with family, work, school, and just plain life. I was sitting in the sand with my husband watching our children run in and out of the water squealing with laughter. It was a surreal moment in the sun with the beautiful ocean and the white sand. Then in an instant the laughter turned into panic as Troy had thrown sand in Sophia’s eyes. She ran to us screaming. I took my water bottle and cleaned her eyes off. Troy ran over to check on his sister knocking me onto my towel getting sand and water everywhere. I was covered with sticky sand and Sophia was screaming because now she had more sand in her face. Troy began to cry at the sight of us toppled over. Tony ran in and took Troy back to the water, I cleaned Sophia’s face. The kids began to ‘play nice’ again and Tony and I resumed our rightful spots in the sand as we laughed together about that peace and tranquil moment we shared.

Isn’t that just how it is with kids? Tony and I enjoy the beach and we have gone many times together before having kids. Back then; it was bikinis and board shorts. A far cry from the load that we track onto the beach with these days; sunscreen, beach chairs, an umbrella, sand toys, towels, sippy cups, hats, sunglasses, a gallon of drinking water, snacks, and the ever important camera. By the time you get everything set up on the beach you don’t want to leave… to pack it all up. Ugh!

As we built sandcastles and counted seashells, I noticed a couple lying on beach chairs under an umbrella about 50 yards away from us. They were tanning and holding hands chatting with their eyes closed. I thought to myself, it is the little things you take for granted, like keeping your eyes closed. There will be no eyes closed with these two running around on the beach. Nope, no eyes closed here, not with Troy and his fearless, endless energy and Sophia the social butterfly who struts along the shoreline talking to everyone.

Don’t get me wrong; we still enjoy going to the beach and we love the joy of watching our children play in the water. However, there is no denying that the beach is a far different place with and without children.

I won’t even begin to discuss the differences in a hotel stay with and without children…

sleep deprivation… yet again.

Night, after night, after night of being awakened…

by children,
by the dog,
by a snoring husband,
by the neighbor’s dog.

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever sleep through the night again.

It wasn’t always this way. I used to be able to sleep through all sorts of sounds and events.

Thunderstorms and hurricanes used to be a great time to sleep. Now, even when the kids aren’t screaming, I lay awake, listening to the thunder and praying that it doesn’t wake them. Hoping that the electricity won’t go off and they won’t wake up in a panic because their night lights don’t work.

You know, sleep deprivation is a source of torture during war times. Poor mothers, we are like prisoners of war, exhausted and forced to keep going for the good of our troops.

I have done all sorts of crazy things in the past four years while I suffer from sleep deprivation…

Let’s not forget the toothpaste incident from an earlier post. 

I have put the telephone in the freezer.

I put the television remote in the linen closet.

I have put a carton of milk in the microwave.

I have seen my son put a waffle in the DVD player, and not even get off the couch to stop him.

I have told the mechanic at the car dealership, “I love you honey, see you soon.”

I have even taken out our mailbox!  I just continued to drive while the mailbox scratched the side of my van, all the while my daughter sat in her car seat and squealed, “mommy, you are hitting the mailbox!” My brain just couldn’t tell my foot to stop pushing the gas petal. Scary, I know!

I remember when Troy was just a peanut, a few weeks old maybe. I heard him crying in the night. I reached into his bassinet and began to rock him back and forth as I sat in my bed. I knew it was too soon for him to eat again, as I must have just put him back down and dozed off. As his crying became louder, I woke up more; I realized, I was rocking my pillow and there lay my infant son in his cradle screaming to the high heavens,  and next to me, lay my sleeping husband.

Now, how is it that men can sleep through these things?

That, my friends, could be a blog of it’s own.

2 kids, 1 mom, and a gas station bathroom

 The title alone, I am sure has put fear in the minds of mothers who are reading this.

Let me tell you my friend, fear isn’t the word.

The two little darlings and I, ventured out to the local mall to pick up ballet and tap shoes for Sophia. My daughter, who I am sure is going to be a politician, must have talked to everyone in the whole entire mall at least one time. There were moments when we would walk past people and she would say “Didn’t I just see you in that other store?”

I don’t know how many people she asked, “Do you know my name?”

After our exciting outing we started the journey home. This would not have taken very long had it not been for the terrible road construction that added an extra 1/2 an hour onto our drive time. There we sat, stuck in traffic and my gas light comes on… if my husband is reading this he is rolling his eyes just about now.  Yes, I am aware that I shouldn’t have let it get that low, but these things happen.  

So, we sit, I begin to pray.. pray that the car doesn’t run out of gas. Then my daughter… “this chocolate milk is hurting my tummy, I think I have to poop”…. great!

 As I quickly navigate the road construction, I find somewhere for her to use the restroom. A gas station would not have been my preference but it was the only thing in sight and when you gotta go you gotta go.

I pull into the gas station and she said that she doesn’t think she has to go. OK, so I’ll just pump the gas and get home. I’m sure this relief won’t last long. Just as I climb back into the car, “I’m gonna poop, I can’t wait till we get home!”

Reluctantly, unload the kids and into, gulp, the bathroom.

“Hold hands in the parking lot.”

 Yes, into the gas station bathroom; better than pooping her pants… I guess.

We proceeded to the bathroom where I informed my children “don’t touch anything!”

 I really should NOT have spoken those words to my 2 year old son who seeks every opportunity to defy everything I say. 

I thought, if I let him hold the keys it may keep his hands occupied and won’t touch anything else.

 WRONG!

As soon as I was lifting my little girl onto the potty, that I had appropriatly covered with toilet paper, he tossed the keys into the trash can and smeared his clean, innocent little hands down the side of the trash can.

My daughter screamed, “He’s Hands Have Germs!”

 I grabbed him and held his hands in the air.  I told my daughter to hurry and finish so we could get out of there, you really can’t rush these things… but I just wanted to get out of there.

I let go of him for a second to assist my daughter as he then proceeded to look at me smiling, that evil little ‘I’m not listening to you’ smile, and rubbed his hands all over the wall.

Worst of all… while I was occupied helping my baby girl get off the potty…

you ready moms…

He sat on the bathroom floor and rubbed his hands on the ground! I swear to you I could see him making ‘snow angels’ in the germs!

Well, all I have to say is THANK GOD for antibacterial hand soap.

My daughter was mortified! She was screaming about the germs on her bubba’s hands.

As I lifted him up to wash his hands the faucet sprayed all three of us. The kids were screaming we were soaked!

We quickly left the bathroom and got in the car and went home to disinfect put on some dry clothes.

Since that day, I have been carrying a potty chair in the back of my van… think what you may, but I would much rather do that than have my sweet baby hands ever touch a filthy gas station bathroom again!

Moral of the story: At all costs, avoid gas station bathrooms with children!!!

randomness…

Yesterday, I watched my husband. He sat in this recliner in the corner of our room reading a book.  I looked on the floor and there was a race car, part of a train track, a sippy cup pushed under the dresser, and a white stuffed dog with a pink belt around its neck. I giggled to myself and went over to hug him. He sat there, so relaxed, as if he was at a resort and there was nothing to do. That is one thing I love about him, but at the same time something that can drive me absolutely crazy… he has no problem relaxing. While I run around fretting about laundry, dishes, and dinner. He can sit contently and read a book amidst the chaos. Although I have found this behavior to be aggravating. On this day, it reminded me to chill out, the dishes aren’t going anywhere. 

I curled into his lap as the kids played in the other room. I told him to listen; we didn’t hear anything. And for those few seconds we laughed together remembering how quiet our home used to be, prior to Sophia and Troy. Then we expressed concern in the silence, because that had to mean the two of them were up to no good.

The silence was broken by a scream from the other room, “TROYYYY-“ 

Followed by, “Sissy-, No!”

In the next moment, they came running into our room arguing about… I don’t even know what!?

Tony looked at me and said, “Someday we will wish they were home with us again.” We laughed as we agreed that this moment will pass quickly and we should enjoy every second with our terrible twosome.  

I have been away from the blog world for a little while. I was taking a rather difficult course in college and every free moment I had was devoted to that horrendous class. The class was an “in depth study into child development”. As a parent, I think this class pin pointed everything I did that was wrong! It was quite a humbling experience. As I finished the course, we were to compose a research paper based on the material we had studied. How can I put everything into a 10 page research paper? I don’t think anyone really understands child development anyway!? There are lots of theories but ultimately all children are different and there is no single way to raise them. So- I am glad to announce the class is complete and I’m looking forward to having time to blog again.

On a totally different note: I read some really great books in the past few weeks. They are children’s books, but really books for us mothers. I’d love to share them with you.

Warning: they are real tear jerkers.

“Someday”by Allison Mcghee and Peter H. Reynolds (This is a beautiful book for mothers of daughters)

“Let me hold you longer”by Karen Kingsbury (This is a great book reminding us to remember the precious moments with our children)

I read, “Someday” to Sophia and cried my head off!! 

Then reading “Let me hold you longer” to Troy, he kept saying, “momma you sad?”

As I sobbed, “no they are happy tears…”

Boy Brains

The Laundry Rant

I know it’s not just me who feels that the laundry is never ending.

You know why I’m not the only one who feels this way?

Because it’s not! It’s always happening, something is always dirty or being made dirty, something is always in need of stain treatment, something always needs folded, moved into the dryer,  or put away. It is a terrible cycle that keeps most mom’s running.

The other day, I was complaining about the ungodly amount of  laundry that we have and it’s never ending cycle. (this laundry thing had me upset and if you are living ‘in the hood’ and say you don’t get overwhelmed once and a while I can honestly say that I doubt it)

 My husband says, “Well, I help do the laundry sometimes.”

I respond with a quick, “no you don’t!”  

Word of wisdom for you men out there: When your wife is ‘venting’ about household chores or anything for that matter, just shut your mouth and knod your head; do not even attempt to compare your chore list to her list. I can promise this will only make things worse for you. Just let her speak and acknowledge her effort to be superwoman! Or you could run for the garage.   

“Yes, I do. I did a load the other day.” He says. 

He should have just run for the garage. But thank him because now I will explain to all of you men just what doing the laundry really means…

I think back, racking my already over stuffed brain trying to think of when he did a load of laundry… I can’t remember.

 Then, I remember last week, I can recall him putting a load of towels into the dryer so that he could wash his black work pants.

If he counts that as doing a load of laundry, I guess, I may remember that.

Let me add that the reason he was washing his black work pants is because they were hiding somewhere in the abyss of dirty laundry and I must have missed them when I last washed darks.

I remember exactly when he washed them, he asked me if they were clean, I remember responding that if he couldn’t find something else to wear he would have to wash them on his own.

How is it that he can’t remember the date our children were born but he can surely remember the one pair of black pants that just happen to be the only pair of black pants that I didn’t wash?  He must have 10 pair of black work pants, clean and hanging in this closet, but he insists on wearing that one pair.

Oh yes- so he did do a load.. if doing a load means tossing the clothes that are in the dryer onto the laundry room floor and putting the towels over into the dryer and loading his pants into the washer.

Now, who do you think picked up, folded and put away the clothes that he tossed onto the floor?

Who do you think folded and put away the towels?

Who moved the pants over into the dryer so that they would be dry in the morning?

Now, let me be clear, I love my husband very much, so thankful for him. Tony is a wonderful and loving father. He is an intelligent man, possibly even a nerd at times, so…how can you say you have “done” a load of laundry??

Laundry starts and finishes… there is a beginning, middle, and end.

Men are very literal creatures, not much reading between the lines for them; it’s black or white.

So let me lay it out so that all the men in the world can understand.

Doing A Load Of Laundry Means: (feel free to print this and pass it to all the men you know)

You go into all the bedrooms, bathrooms, and any other place that may house dirty laundry and bring it to the laundry room or designated area to sort dirty laundry (yes, you must sort laundry before you wash it). There are a variety of ways to sort laundry so please ask how this is to be done correctly. In our house we sort;  darks, brights, whites, delicates, towels, and bed linens.

-I don’t know who made medium and small load options on washing machines but I don’t need it!

Once you have sorted the laundry, and you have a full load to wash, put the load into the washer, spreading the laundry on all sides of the washer. Please be aware because if you fail to do this it will result in the washer getting off balance and making the terrible banging noise that sounds like a stampede of elephants is running through the laundry room. This also can result in waking up the children if done during sleeping times.

Once sorted, you will put the full load in the washer, add appropriate amount of soap and water. (Depending on the variety of laundry that was sorted there are different soaps; Bleach, Woolite, soap for colors, darks, special baby/kid soaps- ask if you have questions.)

Turn it onto the necessary setting. Settings can vary based on what type of machine you have. Yes, the setting is important, everything is not permanent press.

When the washing machine is finished you then return back to the laundry room and put the full load into the dryer.

(Sometimes Tony will move one article over because he will need it and leave the rest in the washer, he says the reason he does this is because if you dry one article at a time it will dry quicker -if for some reason you do this, you must go back and put the other items into the dryer when you are done with your “one article drying experience”.)

Now, before you start drying the load you must empty the lint catcher add a dryer sheet, set the appropriate dryer settings, (not everything is cotton/high) then turn on dryer.

Oh no boys, it’s not over with that.

When the dryer stops and everything is dry, sometimes you have to turn it on again to ensure things are thoroughly dry, you must then get it out, fold, hang, and put everything in it’s rightful spot.

With that you can say that you completed one load of laundry.

What is next in the never ending laundry saga? Sorting and starting another awaiting load, only to dry, fold, put away those items as well.

All the while your family is wearing and dirtying more items that will need to be washed.

Thank God we have clothes to wear, washers and dryers to aid us in the process of cleaning.. but a little laundry rant feels good once and a while. 

-Holly

sleep deprivation

To be an honorable member of ‘the hood’ one must sacrifice many things.

One of the most noted things: sleep.

When new mommies ask me what motherhood is like, I always tell them that as much as you love your children; which is unthinkable; that is just how tired you will be. It is an unimaginable exhaustion.

I remember one night; Troy was about 4 weeks old. Sophia would have been right at two. I “woke” to hear him crying in his bassinet beside my bed. I picked him up and began to pat his back. I was rocking back and forth trying to soothe him, but he kept crying. As I woke up a little more I realized I was rocking and patting the pillow, as my infant son lay unattended in his cradle. It is that kind of exhaustion when you have kids.

Now, this story I am about to tell you goes right along with the topic of sleep deprivation and the exhaustion that comes when you have children.

It was about 730am. I was in my typical morning routine. Wake up, make coffee, take the dog out, get dressed, and brush my teeth…

Only when I put the tooth brush in my mouth and began to brush the toothpaste didn’t suds up like normal. I spit and my tongue went numb. I grabbed the toothpaste tube and looked… it was anti fungal cream for athletes foot.

I spit, and spit, and spit, and grabbed the Crest and began brushing my teeth faster and harder than ever.

I swore my tongue was swelling. It was all I could do to read the back of the cream. The tube read, “if swallowed contact poison control immediately”.

I felt like my tongue was swelling, my throat was closing… I felt faint.

Yes, I’ve been called dramatic, a time or two.

I imagined the headlines, “Local Mother dies after antifungal poisoning.”

I grabbed the phone book, looked up the number for poison control.

Multi-tasking; I rinsed my mouth with water and dialed the number.

It was ringing… my mind was spinning…

How would Tony survive without me? Sophia would probably never brush her hair. Troy would grow up wearing shoes that didn’t fit. They’d eat doughnuts everyday for breakfast and pizza for dinner.

“Poison Control, How can I help you?”

What do I tell them? “Yes, I just brushed my teeth with athletes foot cream” NO.

So, I did the same thing that any honorable woman would do.

 ”Yes, my daughter just tried to brush her teeth with anti fungal cream, I don’t think she swallowed it but is there anything I need to be concerned about?”

“What exactly is the cream?”

My mind was racing; I don’t know what kind of cream it is! I’m going to be dead in a matter of minutes.

But worse, the person on the line knows I’m lying. They know I ate the cream not Sophia.

“Equate, Anti fungal Cream, for athletes foot 1% anti fungal”

“How old is your daughter mam?”

“4″

“How much does she weigh?”

 ”One hundred…. I mean forty pounds”

I almost lost it.

“OK, let me look this up for you.”

I waited, feeling like my throat was closing, I couldn’t feel my tongue, I may not be able to talk much longer…. was my voice horse?

“OK, looks like everything is going to be fine, go ahead and give her something to drink and rinse her mouth, call us if you need anything else….”

Thank God. Instantly my symptoms disappeared.

I gargled with Listerine and went back to bed…

Call me paranoid; but I called Tony and told him what happened, just in case I died in my sleep.

-Holly

Before I got married I had six theories about bringing up children; now I have six children, and no theories. ~John Wilmot

I love hearing people who don’t have children give me there opinions on how I should or shouldn’t raise my children. Would they like to take a stab at this whole motherhood thing?

I remember before I had children, seeing a mother fumbling in her purse, trying to find her wallet in the check out line with her toddler. That child was screaming as if the Earth was crumbling down all because they wanted the pen that the mom had in her purse. The child had a runny nose and red face, screaming at the top of her lungs. I remember how frazzled and embarrassed the mother looked.  I can clearly recall thinking to myself that typical line, “My child will NEVER act like that.”   I remember feeling that that child was a snotty nosed brat, acting like that over a pen!?

The unthinkable, the mother, after her repeated failure to calm the child, reached into her purse and handed the pen to the screaming toddler. The child stopped screaming and began to color on her hand with the pen. I was shocked!

How could she!? What was she thinking!?

That screaming child should have been given a stern talking too, not been given the pen!  Surely she should NOT been allowed to draw on her hand! What kind of mother was she!?

I failed to notice a few things; the mother was purchasing Children’s Tylenol. The child was red, probably from fever and was more than likely crying because they didn’t feel good and less because they wanted to hold the pen.

So what kind of mother was she!?

Fast forward five years, and two children later… I know exactly what kind of mother she was.

She was the kind of mother, who wanted to get home and put that overtired baby to bed. She wanted to wash the pen off her little hands, give her some Tylenol, tuck her into her bed, and let her take a nap. She wanted relief.  The look was not frazzled and embarrassed, but exhausted and overwhelmed.

I recalled this past scenario, a few weeks ago. My son, Troy, had been sick with asthma and allergies, which resulted in pink eye and an ear infection. He was miserable. He hadn’t slept well for a week, which means I hadn’t either.  I was waiting in line at the pharmacy. He was crying, kicking, screaming…. I was exhausted so was he. I was hugging him and whispering in his ear, trying to get him to calm down.  He was kicking his legs and arching his back (you know how they do). The pharmacist was watching with a look of disgust on her face, probably the same way I looked at that woman five years earlier.  I got to the counter and handed off the prescription. It was a lonely feeling standing there across from this woman who evidently was disgusted at the way I was handling this situation. I asked her if she had children. She responded with a sharp, “no”. She then proceeded to tell me that if I didn’t control my son she would have to ask me to leave.

Now, all feelings from that point will be kept in my head, where they belong because it would be inappropriate to post them on this blog. But most parents I’ve spoken with have at one point or another been in a similar situation.

It made me wish I had been more understanding to that mother five years earlier. *Teaching moment here.

It is easy to think what you would or wouldn’t do before you walk in those footsteps of motherhood.

No two mothers are the same; no two mothers walk the same steps… I enjoy hearing how people do things. I enjoy talking to other parents and getting their opinions on certain aspects of parenting. This is all part of why I enjoy doing this blog. We all have strengths and we all have weaknesses. All mothers have something to bring to the table, something to offer. I enjoy talking to my mom, my grandma, aunts, girlfriends, the women around me who have experienced this thing called motherhood.

Have a topic you’d like to discuss with other moms? Curious to how other mothers may handle certain situations in parenting? Feel free to comment and I will do my best to quiz some local mothers and get their opinions on the topic.

-Holly

Mom’s Say the Darndest Things

I don’t know about you but sometimes I say things and I wonder, did I really just have to say that?

Maybe I didn’t have to but it did just come out of my mouth.

Usually, this happens when I am on an important phone call or someone is at my house.  These  random things come out of my mouth when talking to my children.  I pause, take a deep breath, and wonder what the person on the other line is thinking?  Then, undoubtly my children catch my attention again, the insecure concern of what the other person thought is no longer important. I do think that kids say some of the funniest things, but in reality us mothers take the prize.

Just some of the crazy things that have come out of my mouth when I am speaking to my children…

“Do not run your sister over with the shopping cart!”

“Please don’t wash your hands in the dog bowl.”

“We do not touch our nakey butts on the wall.”

“Don’t smear ketchup on the dog.”

“Is that poop on your toe?”

“Please don’t drive the car on the tv screen.”

“You pooped play-doh!”

“Do NOT wipe your nose on my arm”

“Don’t bite the dog”

“Get your tongue off my arm please” (This was said while on the phone with my academic advisor.)

“Stop eating the couch!”

“Do not run mommy over with trucks”

Ahh.. motherhood.

-Holly

Hope everyone has a blessed weekend and a Happy Easter!