We're All Very Thoughtful

The wind was cold, but the sun was warm.  Two squealy girls played outside while one wish-fulfilling daddy scooted around the roof, attaching twinkling lights to our eaves.  (Because eaves sounds nicer than gutters.) 

But it was close to dinner time at my mom's house, time for us to be leaving (because I absolutely mooch dinner from my mom every weekend), so I got ready to pack the squealy girls into the car.  Justin would meet us when his work was done.  (Because he's the Cinderella in this story.)

I poked my head outside, shivering from the wind, and thought for a minute.

"Hey, babe?" I wondered towards the rooftop.  "Do you have your cell phone in a pocket up there?"

"No. Why?" 

"Well," I mused, "It just occurred to me that if you fall off the roof, and I'm not here, you might need your cell phone to call for help."

This got chuckles from on high -- like he would really fall off the roof?  Ha!  "Honey," he drawled, "If I fall off the roof, I doubt I'll be in any position to make a phone call."

Squinting at his logic, I shrugged.  "Okay, you're right.  We'll see you later, okay?"

Then, from below, bellowed for the benefit of our entire neighborhood's listening pleasure: "Daddy!  Don't fall off the roof, okay?!"

And off we drove.  (Because we know daddy is no Cinderella, really: he's Superman.)

Answers for Tatiana: 12 Hours

The sweet Tatiana asked what a normal day is like around here, and I'm tempted to say: there is no normal, it's all WILD.  But since I don't think that's exactly what she had in mind, I'll expand.

A few times a week, we actually have to be ready early enough to make it to preschool on time (Heh -- on time?  Never.  What IS it with me?), but on Tuesday, glorious Tuesday, we almost never have plans.  It's our go-to at-home day.  Our pajamas = clothes day.  Our free-play day.  So here's what an average Tuesday looks like at This Heavenly House.

7:00 AM -- Mama falls out of bed, goaded by the knowledge that if she doesn't take a shower NOW, she probably won't get one. 

7:30 AM -- Both girls are awake by now, no goading required: they are filled with pure spunk, every morning.  Some mornings, their spunk is cheerier than others, but still -- they're ready for the day the second their eyes are open.  Sometimes before.

7:40 AM -- Breakfast time!  Lauren is waiting impatiently in her chair, banging a spoon on the table, demanding food, but Mia couldn't care less: she's sitting on the living room floor, entranced by PBS.  Mama and Mia barter and negotiate for a few minutes: No, you may not eat in the living room; Yes, you may have toast with honey; No, you may not use your tea set for breakfast.  Eventually, they're provided with food from our usual assortment (oatmeal, cereal, toast, waffles, fruit, yogurt...), while mama piddles around aimlessly.

8:00 AM -- The abandoned PBS is remembered, and Mia settles in for something unsatisfactory.  She doesn't like Sid the Science Kid or Dinosaur Train, but somehow, they manage to partially hold her attention.  She plays and begs for snacks with the sound of singing Dinosaurs or rapping Preschoolers in the background.  Lauren is twirling and singing around the house, leaving a trail of toys in her wake.  Mama is eating a quick breakfast in front of the computer while the girls entertain themselves.

9:00 AM -- When Sesame Street comes on, Mia gives up trying to watch.  Sesame Street is the straw that breaks her bored-back, and she turns off the TV.  She demands coloring pages.  Lauren uses the coffee table as a swimming pool, and swims -- naked. 

10:00 AM -- We are mostly dressed by now, probably for the third or fourth time.  Lauren will be in one of her dress-up costumes, and Mia will be in an old party dress of Mama's.  Pandora is playing an assortment of 'Ballerina' music, and there is much make-believe in progress.  Mama is cleaning one small corner of an otherwise messy house.  Once or twice a month, we might pack up and head to the library where Mama will close her eyes and cross her fingers and hold her breath in hopes that a) her children will behave nicely, or b) there are no overdue fines. 

11:00 AM -- It's too close to lunch time, but too far from snack time, and the girls are irritated by the discrepancy.  Mama pulls out art supplies -- paint, brown paper bags, construction paper, markers -- and fills the time.  The girls are decked out in old t-shirts, making masterpieces. 

12:00 PM -- Lunch!  Oh, the joy!  The unabashed glee that accompanies lunch!  It's the meal of ease: peanut butter sandwiches (No jelly for Mia -- just honey!  No honey for Lauren -- just jelly!), fruit, veggies, cheese.  If the day is just right, Mama will bravely pack up the supplies for a picnic...on the kitchen floor. 

1:00 PM -- Naptime.  Oh, the agony.  The horrific and dreadful bane of our day's existence.  Nothing goes right here, on a normal day.  Just when Mama sits down to read or work or write, one girl needs a potty break, then the other.  Somebody screams for minutes about the injustice of being made to lie still in bed.  Mia tiptoes out of her room: "I'm sorry mama, I didn't mean to come out of my room, it was just an accident, but..."  In Lauren's room, the telltale crash of toys being tossed from shelves alerts mama to an uncooperative toddler.  Mama storms into the room, ready to be angry at the lack of napping, when she is confronted with this: Lauren is stark naked, sitting in her rocking chair, reading Brown Bear, Brown Bear to her baby doll.  Mama loses the will to scold, due to the massive overdose of cuteness.  She plops Lauren back into bed, and the cycle repeats.  Endlessly.  Until mama folds her losing hand (probably about the time Lauren pees in her bed), and the girls are allowed to be awake.

3:00 PM -- Mama is out of patience.  It's time to play outside, if the day is pretty enough.  If not, we drag out tea parties and blocks and babies in strollers, dominoes and books and matching games.  Oh -- and laundry.  It's always time for laundry.

4:00 PM -- Mama stands in the kitchen, wondering why she waits to attack the messy kitchen until it's time to make dinner.  The girls play or watch a video, and Mama regains some patience that was lost during naptime.  If they want to, the girls can usually go play outside by themselves for a little bit, trapped in the back yard.  It's not very good practice at unsupervised play, as one or both girls darts to the back door every third minute with a request or complaint or achievement.  Mama thinks the back yard is the best invention in the history of time.  Also: her girls are the sweetest, funniest creatures in the world.

5:00 PM -- Daddy is home, or if he's not...he will be soon!  Mama tries to make a fun game out of cleaning up the house a bit, so that Daddy doesn't fire her and replace her with a more organized version.  (Some days, though...she half-wishes to be fired...then maybe she'd have time to rest...)  Two girls, probably dressed up as Ariel and Aurora, scream enthusiastic welcomes as Daddy's car pulls up outside.  He is claimed before he enters the door.

5:30 PM -- Mama is the party-pooper, pushing pause on the rough-housing long enough for dinner to be had.  Daddy brings two sweaty, red-cheeked girls to the dinner table, and we eat.  Well, most of us eat.  One or both girls will probably refuse.  And mama doesn't mind.  Much.

6:00 PM -- It's "Let's see what we can make Daddy do NOW!" time at Heavenly House.  Chasing, pillow fights, Candyland, hide-and-seek, wrestling, video games...nothing is off limits.  At least until mama says...

6:30 PM -- Bathtime! 

7:00 PM -- Ahhhh, bedtime: the lover of my soul.  We read stories -- either as a family, or one-on-one -- and two warm, cuddly, sweet-smelling, and exhausted girls (thanks to skipped naps and a high-energy daddy) are placed in bed.  Mama and Daddy smile conspiratorially at one another in the quiet living room.  The evening is ours.  Sweet dreams, indeed.

Weekly Column: Imperfect Holidays

I realize this article will be a little bit retroactive -- unless any of you are celebrating Thanksgiving late? -- but I think it's fairly broad in its purpose.  Here's to imperfect holidays!

What is it about the holidays that makes me begin to envision my children as perfect angels, just waiting to fulfill my unrealistic expectations?

I wake up on a day like today, only to be faced with all the regular trials, blessings, or injustices of a life with small children.  That is, I wake up to a normal day.  But because it’s Thanksgiving, I expect my children to have grown – overnight, mind you – all sorts of skills and capabilities.  Reasonability.  Understanding.  Compassion.  Patience. 

They do exhibit these qualities on a regular basis, but it’s a process, you see.  We’re working towards patience and compassion, and we’ll get there.  But probably not in time for the next holiday.  So how can I learn to enjoy Thanksgiving while not expecting my children to behave perfectly? 

Here’s what I plan to do, in order to keep our holiday calm and joyful:

Slow Down

Part of the problem with holidays is that there’s usually a LOT of activity stuffed into a regular sized day.  Family gatherings, special meal preparations, and traveling can easily take up more time than usual.  Knowing this, I want to slow down.  We can cut out unnecessary plans where possible, and enjoy at least a little bit of time relaxing or playing, instead of rush-rushing.

Shift the Focus

Going into a day like today hoping that all of my dreams will come true is the wrong approach to take.  Rather, I should be finding ways to make this day special and memorable for my kids.  Nothing huge – after all, I AM trying to simplify.  But if they want to watch endless footage of slow-floating balloons in the televised parade, that’s what we’ll do.  If they want to color turkeys and wear pilgrim hats, that’s what we’ll do.  A Thanksgiving that is special for my children, will also be special to me.

Work Together

If there are things to be made – pies, side dishes, treats – for a Thanksgiving feast, I’ll make as much as I can beforehand in order to keep our day less cluttered.  But for those things that must be prepared on the day-of, I’ll be enlisting my family’s help.  Working together to make a favorite dish or decorate some special treat was a big part of the holiday traditions I grew up with, and those are some of my fondest memories.  I’ll do my best to choose activities that can either be done ahead of time, or with my children’s assistance.

Enforce Rest

With so much extra activity, my little ones are bound to be worn out.  Exhausted from noise and games and company, I won’t expect them to behave like little gems of perfection.  Instead, I’ll build-in a small amount of time for rest.  It probably won’t be a full nap, knowing the busyness of the day, but a few minutes spent with a quiet room and a snuggly pillow will go a long way towards keeping my girls happy.  And if they’re happy…

I’ll Be Happy

My own attitude might be the most important factor on holidays.  If I’m being honest, I’ll admit that the stresses of doing so much and going so fast don’t usually bring out the best in me.  This Thanksgiving, I (pinky-swear) promise to do whatever it takes to remain joyful.  Even if a tiny hand dumps the gravy boat.  Even if a tiny voice screams during a late-night car-ride.  Even if a tiny person ruins my homemade dinner rolls. 

Because this day isn’t about perfection.  It’s about being thankful for the fullness of blessings in a life filled with craziness.

[Online version here.]

Hellooooo Out There...

I feel like I'm wandering in the dark right now, holding my splayed hands in front of my body, shuffling blindly across a slippery floor.  I haven't blogged for several days now, and I just don't know what to do with this silence.  Also, I forgot my camera over Thanksgiving, and if there are no pictures to document the day's events, did the day's events really happen?  Our Thanksgiving was so wonderful; if you don't mind, I'd like to share it with you even though it's pictureless.  Okay?  Okay.

Lying in bed until 8 AM
Giggling girls begging daddy for breakfast
Slow, lazy showering
Serious artists coloring cut-out turkeys
Tying on a favorite apron
Streaming Christmas music on Pandora
Chopping pecans and cubes of sharp cheddar
Constantly stirring a bubbling, sweet, pineapple glaze
Girls screaming about giant, floating balloons on TV
Punching down puffy dough
Rolling dough into butter-drenched crescents
Mia burning her chin on the hot baking sheet,
sniffing too close to fresh rolls
Daddy wrestling and chasing
two girly turkeys
Chilly air frosting outside, oven-warmed coziness inside
Driving across town for a feast
Greeting a full, smiling house of family
Girls shucking their outfits for dress-up costumes
Hand-holding, wide circle of prayer
Lauren in a pink ballerina dress, eating and giggling
Filling a plate to overflowing
Sharing memories and silly stories
Picking at desserts for 4 hours
Forgetting dinner
Losing the annual Heavenly family ping-pong tournament (Sarah...)
Winning the annual Heavenly family ping-pong tournament (Justin...)
Screaming fits at nightfall, time to go home
Bundling and buckling
Pajama-ing and snuggling
Much thankful sighing

I hope your Thanksgiving weekend has been a happy one!

Rerun: Gratitude in Frustration

Originally published November 25, 2009.  Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!  I hope your day was wonderful!



If I am grateful for the wonders of motherhood, I am equally grateful for patience in handling motherhood. When I am driven thisclose to losing my temper, stopping to be grateful for the chance to practice patience is sometimes the furthest thought from my mind. But, to live in gratitude means that I must seek out ways to experience its beauty.

When the box of broken and tattered crayons is spilled (dumped?) for the 5th time in an afternoon, sending bits of waxy crumbs all over the kitchen floor, I am grateful for the chance to illustrate a life lesson: dump the crayons, and coloring is over.

When my 19-month old scales the bistro-table-height chairs before climbing to the edge of the even-taller kitchen table to do a dance which will knock over a glass of juice, I am grateful that she is strong and able. I am grateful that she did not fall -- this time. I am grateful for the industrial sized jug of juice that is waiting in the wings, and the drawer full of towels to clean up the mess. I am grateful that she has such great dance moves; I hear those are handy.

When my big girl tells me she doesn't love me anymore, she only loves daddy now instead, I am thankful that she has such a wonderful father to love. Perhaps even more (selfishly so), I am thankful that I have a husband who will quickly enumerate for Mia all the reasons she should be thankful for me. I am thankful for her comfort in speaking her feelings, even when they aren't what I want to hear. I am thankful that she will most certainly change her allegiance again tomorrow.

When there is toddler poop under my fingernails after an energetic diaper-changing session, I am grateful for warm water and foaming soap. I am grateful that potty training is just around the corner. I am grateful that my child has enough healthy food to keep her body working regularly. I am grateful for my cold which prevents me from smelling the disastrous diaper.

When eating out at a restaurant and Mia is fascinated enough by a woman with generous proportions to say (loudly): "I think she ate too much food, her belly is FULL!" I am thankful for Lauren's impatient yelling which has hopefully obscured her sister's insult. I am thankful for Mia's inquiring mind and imaginative thoughts. I am thankful that our budget limits our ability to dine out on a regular basis, therefore Mia's highly descriptive words aren't set upon the general public very often.

When my daughters wreck a room with spilled snacks, scattered toys, and screaming chaos, I am grateful that we are able to provide them with a safe place to mess up at all. I am grateful that they can entertain themselves. I am grateful that they are unbearably cute, because sometimes they can behave SO unattractively that the cuteness seems to be their only redeeming quality.

When it has been a long day filled with some combination of all of the above instances, I am filled with profound gratitude that my husband is no longer a road-warrior; he will be home soon. All I have to do is find a small measure of patience to sustain me until he arrives. Or until bedtime -- the point at which we can look back on the wonder of another day spent raising children and laugh at the antics of our darling daughters. Because, strangely enough, the time they spend sleeping seems to be the time when our gratitude is downright overflowing.

Go figure.

In what unpredictably messy moments do you experience gratitude? (Even if it's forced...)

Rerun: Grateful Mothering

Originally published November 24, 2009. 


Being a mother has been one of the most gratitude-fraught experiences of my life thus far. Yes, 'fraught'; sometimes the thankfulness is so deep and broad that it sucks everything else into its sphere. Sometimes the simple fact of my own motherhood terrifies me and forces me into places I'd never dreamed of before. But there is grace in that terror, as well. For without my children, I fear I'd be missing out on learning true gratitude.

I've experienced grace in the willingness of my body to support life. The process of assisting in the creation of a new soul is pure magic and adventure, filling my own old, cynical soul with wonder and gratitude. I am grateful that I've had the chance to be filled with such innocent and untouched life, feeling the tumbles and stretches, the kicks and prods, from the inside out. Perhaps the most shockingly grace-filled moments were when I first laid eyes on my children; learning their faces only to watch them change instantly.

Being able to provide every ounce of nourishment for them from within myself is something for which I will forever be thankful. It amazes me -- AMAZES ME --that everything they needed as infants was available within my hopeful embrace...sustaining them, sustaining me. I can't even express the joy that came with snuggling a warm, round body against my own and knowing that she was benefiting even more than I was. I am thankful for the helpful guidance I received while learning the art of breastfeeding. I am thankful that I had the opportunity to stay at home with them -- not having to worry about pumping enough milk or weaning to bottles before I was ready. Which turned out to be never, so, I am also thankful that the cost and time-consuming qualities of bottle feeding weren't ever a necessity.

As these girls have grown, I have been filled with gratitude at their wonderfully different personalities. Two unique individuals, two people with whom I can relate differently, two ways to experience gratitude in innumerable moments every day. Two separately beautiful, yet stunningly unified ways to teach me grace and humility at each new experience.

But those things are all based upon my experiences; the truly gratitude-worthy items are centered around the experiences of my daughters. It is wonderful to realize that I am thankful for their benefit.

I am thankful for the chances they have in life, for the unfolding stories in which they are unknowingly participating. I am thankful for the family surrounding them: grandparents, aunts & uncles, cousins, church friends, and friends for life. All of these people are ensuring that my children will never know loneliness or uncertainty in being cared for. I am so grateful that my children will always be loved and wanted.

I am grateful for the simple things they have access to, which so many children do not: warm beds, warm clothing, warm food, warm arms.

My gratitude turns into hope for their futures. I hope they know how much they are loved and appreciated. I hope they trust in their dreams. I hope they trust in God. I hope they find endless ways to practice gratitude in their growing-up lives.

And I hope I will never fail to be aware of all the ways that these children bless me -- fill me with gratitude -- with their very existence.

Answers for Elizabeth: Breastfeeding Advice

Elizabeth asked:

Maybe if you had to give one piece of advice (or two, or three, or heck a whole list) about the following, what would it be: pregnancy, childbirth, breastfeeding, diapering, introducing solids, babyproofing, crawling, walking... Obviously I'm a bit single-minded in my focus, but lists about anything are usually good!

You know how much I love talking about all things baby, Elizabeth, so I'm afraid you're setting yourself up for a long-winded diatribe from one talk-happy mama.  But I'll try to control myself.  So.  What one thing would I love to give advice about, regarding babies?  I could go into great detail and passionate pleas for natural childbirth, but I'd rather not.  Not today, anyway.

But how about breastfeeding?  Really, if there were only ONE thing I could help any new mother with, it would be breastfeeding, and if there were one single piece of advice within that topic, it would be this:

YOU CAN DO IT. 

Before I had children, I always assumed I would breastfeed.  In fact, I never really knew much about formula.  Then, during my first pregnancy, I started studying more about breastfeeding and it became something I was determined to do.  The benefits seemed to overpower any of the countless stories of difficulties I'd heard, and I was absolutely ready to tackle the challenge.

Then, the baby came.  My determination waned.  Breastfeeding was hard.  It wasn't as beautiful and peaceful as I always assumed it would be -- not at first, anyway.  And I can see that if I hadn't been supported by a handful of people who were assured of our eventual success, I might not have been able to get past those first couple of months.  Those people -- my mom, my husband, my lactation consultant, my friends -- helped me feel confident, even in my lack of confidence.

So the second part of my advice on breastfeeding, beyond trusting that it will work, and you will be able to do it, is to seek help.  I would gladly have adopted my lactation consultant into my home, fed her home-baked desserts daily, and paid her in gold bars for the assistance she gave.  I had her personal cell phone number, for pity's sake.  And she was more than willing to help -- it was her mission in life, she said, to help new mothers be successful with breastfeeding.  Find someone you can go to with any small question.  Find a person who's willing to look at your latch if you're having trouble.  Don't be shy! 

Because it is SO worth it to keep going, even when you feel like you can't go another day.  You can.  One day, one hour at a time, until it's the simplest thing in the world.  It's the most spectacular feeling I've ever experienced, and I want you to experience it, too.

You can do it. 

And I'm sure you already know these, but here are some of the best advantages to breastfeeding:

:: It's FREE!!  Breastfeeding can save somewhere around $800 per year over formula-feeding. (Source)
:: It's clean -- no bottles to wash, sanitize, or prepare.
:: It's fast -- Again, no bottles to prepare.  Especially helpful during midnight and away-from-home feedings.
:: Breastfeeding lessens your (and your baby girl's) risk of developing breast cancer.
:: Breastfed babies are generally healthier. (Source)  Breast milk contains antibodies from the mother's immune system which are passed onto the infant.
:: The probability of dying from SIDS is less in breastfed infants. (Source)
:: Faster weight-loss after the birth.


Really, I could go on and on.  This is a tiny sample; a tip off the iceberg. 

In conclusion: You can do it.  Find people to support you, because they are all around you, no matter how unsupportive America as a whole seems to be. 

Plus, I'd fly to Pennsylvania myself, Elizabeth, if I could help you.  The good news is, you probably won't need me to -- you have time to get a supportive network in place for when that sweet little bundle is introduced to you for the first time.

And I wish you all the best!

Rerun: Sensations of Gratitude

Originally posted on November 23, 2009; I liked my Thanksgiving series so much that I'm rerunning it this year!

I am grateful for the ability to feel, to be touched by this beautiful world in millions of tangible ways: I am grateful for sensations.

The smooth and tight coolness of fresh sheets waiting to envelop me at the end of a back-breaking day: I feel rest.

The warmth of a tear, either in a single drop or in a torrent of moisture, as it courses down my cheek: I feel memories.

The grasp of a miniature hand at my thigh, reaching up, up, for a mother's cradle: I feel love.

The rumble of a cat's purr under her silken coat, delighting in my wayward touch: I feel compassion.

The rounded swishing of dried beans as they're being rinsed in cool water, agitated by my capable hands and prepared for a simple meal: I feel security.

The crinkled sheets of artwork made with concentration by my darling girls, rustling and misaligned: I feel creativity.

The mindless caress of my husband's strong hand over my skin: I feel adoration.

The crushing chop of a sharp knife through raw vegetables; the wooden board confidently matching the metal edge: I feel contrast.

The delicate softness of a recipe card as it's being pulled from its hiding place, covered with my Grandmother's handwriting, and inscribed with family tradition: I feel sadness.

The slippery scalp of a child at bathtime, bubbled and squeaking after a day of messy imagination: I feel care.

The floating emptiness that surrounds me -- transports me -- as I pray my deepest thoughts to my Lord: I feel God.

I am so thankful to have the ability to feel and to notice sensations as they happen. What a remarkable gift it is to feel, and in feeling, to evoke emotional sensation as well.

What sensations are you grateful for, at this very moment?

Answers for Hyacynth

Hyacynth asked a great gorgeous plethora of questions:

Tell us about how you and Justin met? And about why you might possibly want baby number 3? And what you think of the book of Esther in relation to raising girls here and now? And why you chose to live where you live? And when you plan to visit Chicago? ;)

I'll give you great blog fodder if you come visit. Promise!

Oh, Hy.  You don't mess around, do you?  Let's approach this in bullet form, shall we?

• Justin and I met on a night that could probably be considered the second biggest lie I ever told my parents. (I'm no role model...but let's ignore that issue for now.) I was lying in bed, reading Jane Austen at 8PM on a Saturday night in July, (Maybe I could be a role model for teenagers after all...or at least a role-model for hard-core geeks.) when a group of my very best friends called and demanded that I get dressed and come out.

They were gathering at a house that had been devoid of parents for the entire summer (thus, I was probably already sick of partying by late July), and my presence was apparently critical to the success of the night. I disagreed. I refused and rolled over in my jammies, happy with Miss Austen. They called back; they demanded anew; I forfeited my freedom; I agreed to go. Grumpily, I pulled my clothes from the pile on the floor in which I'd heaped them, smoothed out some wrinkles, and left.

Imagine my surprise when a very handsome stranger appeared at the parent-less house. He was a college soccer player, a guitar-strumming, broad-shouldered, quietly mysterious young man. Imagine my breathless giggles when he only paid attention to me. Of course, it took some time to notice, because he was very shy in the beginning. Imagine my swoon when he asked for my phone number, and my surprise that he actually called me; I thought there was no way a dork like me would catch the notice of such an amazing guy. The rest, as they say, is history.


• This is why I want baby number three:


Squishalicious Mia -- Oh, those legs!

 And this:


Droolicious Lauren -- Oh, my lovey!

And because there is some part of me that is SO intrigued by rolling the dice again, and seeing what the combination of Justin’s and my genes will come out to be. Boy or girl, dark or light, quiet or crazy….the possibilities are endless!

Seriously, though? I always thought I’d have more than two kids. I honestly feel like I – in this body and with this life – am meant to grow children. Like this is my purpose in life, and I’m not done making babies yet. I know it’s presumptuous, but I almost feel like all this life and nourishment and growth that could take place within my body is the biggest calling I will ever have. My goal and dream, all in one.

But if I’m honest, there’s also this:

Justin & Mia -- He ain't afraid of no cryin' babes.

• I am woefully undereducated on Esther. Must edify immediately. (Is there a study you’d heard of that would be a good place to start?)


• We didn’t so much choose to live in Missouri, as we just chose not to leave. We were both raised here, and had no desire to find someplace new. Most of that is my preference: I’m surrounded by a very close-knit family on whom I’m happily dependent, and the prospect of leaving – though achievable – terrifies me. That’s not to say we won’t ever move away from home. Both of us understand that there may come a time or reason that forces us to consider other locations. We’ll be okay if that happens. But for now, we’ll enjoy being close to family while we raise our little ones. And dream of all the places we’ll travel to in order to expose ourselves to more than this little corner of the world, which would hopefully include…


• Chicago! Someday, someday. But never in cold wintertime, when Heavenly Sarah hides. No, never in cold wintertime, when Heavenly Sarah hides.

 
 
*500 bonus points for the first person to correctly identify the semi-classic, semi-quote in the last bullet point....

Weekly Column: Tips of the Puke-Trade

No matter how often I’ve had to clean up the mess of a tummy-troubled child, there’s been this constant refrain dancing around in my head: ‘Oh, how I wish this could be cleaned up by anyone but me.’

Being faced with an assaulting puddle of nastiness never fails to take me by surprise.  Thankfully, the past several years have helped me prepare a plan of attack for when the vomit monster strikes.  Here are a few tricks of the puke-trade that have helped me overcome the irresistible urge to run away and hide when one of my children starts losing her lunch.

Comfort the Child First

This is the easiest part.  Strip her down, lay her on a clean, dry towel across the room from ground zero, and get her comfortable.  Throwing up can be scary – make sure your child knows she’s not in trouble for getting sick, and be sure to acknowledge her fears.  Leave the puddles alone for a few minutes.  This resolves the problem of a distraught, crying child in the background of your work, while giving you a chance to gather your wits about you.  You’ll need them when you face last night’s undigested dinner seeping into your carpet.

Start Laundry Immediately

The longer the mess sits on clothes or sheets, the nastier it becomes, in my queasy opinion.  Pick up the solid bits with paper napkins and flush it down the toilet before tossing everything else into the washer immediately.  Even if it’s the middle of the night.  If you can get a beloved blankie or stuffed animal washed and dried before the next episode erupts, you’ll have something of comfort to offer your sick child in the midst of a difficult time.  Plus, it’ll be less of a giant pile to tackle in the morning. 

Once is Never Enough

The first mess of the night is probably not the last, in midnight sicknesses.  Once you’ve gotten your little one cleaned up, plan ahead for the next occurrence.  If a second or third episode never materializes, you’re still better safe than sorry.  Lay towels across the pillows and sheets of the bed.  Put your child in easy-to-remove pajamas: button-up tops are lifesavers during post-vomit cleanup.  Remove all stuffed animals or unnecessary blankets from the danger zone. They’ll just be one more thing to wash later.

Don’t Force Hydration

While you definitely don’t want your child to become dehydrated, it might be a fruitless venture to feed her large gulps of water right after she’s thrown up the entire contents of her stomach.  Give small, frequent sips to avoid her spitting everything out again, and save whole glasses of liquids for when you know she’ll be able to keep it down. 

Don’t Force Food

Bottom line: if she doesn’t want to eat, don’t even try to make her.  She’ll know when she feels up to eating again, at which point it’s okay to offer her simple foods.  Just don’t be surprised if she vomits again after only half a banana and some bites of toast.  Try feeding her on one of your trusty, much-abused towels, and your bases will be covered. 

Cleaning up after a stomach-bug makes its way through our home is definitely still high on the list of my least favorite things about parenting.  It’s made me appreciate my own mother in a whole new light, and taught me a few things about my personality that I didn’t yet know.

For example, I can be strong and capable in the face of vomit.  Especially if my husband is the one doing the heavy scrubbing.

Simple, Quick Meals: 7 Of Them

To continue answering Siouxz's question, and in addition to Tuesday's and Wednesday's recipes, here are 7 more quick, favorite meals from Heavenly House!  Beware the startling amounts of cheese to follow...


1.  Pizza -  It has to be said: we make pizza two to three times a month.  Fast, easy, delicious.  Here's how I do it:

Crust: 
1 1/4 cups very warm water
2 Tbsp. sugar
1 Tbsp. active dry yeast
1 tsp. salt
1/4 cup oil
3 cups flour

In a large bowl, dissolve sugar in water.  Add yeast, and let the mixture sit for about 10 minutes, until it billows up to a creamy froth.  Add salt, oil, and flour (wheat or white, or a combo of the two).  Mix well.  Turn dough out onto lightly floured surface and knead for 3 minutes, until dough is smooth and elastic.  Cover loosely, and let rise in a lightly oiled bowl in a warm spot for 30 minutes.  Punch down dough, divide in half.  Form each half into a rough circle if placing on a heated pizza stone, or press into a lightly oiled 9x13 baking sheet with raised edges.  (I have a brownie pan that works perfectly for this.)  Top with cheese, meat, and veggies of your choice, and bake at 450 for 10 to 20 minutes.  (Um, sorry about that huge time gap.  I don't know how long I bake ours; I just keep an eye on it, and when the cheese is starting to go all golden and delicious, it's done.)

P.S.  Our favorite topping combination looks like this, and in this order: jarred pasta sauce, sliced provolone, shredded mozzarella, diced red peppers, and chopped canadian bacon.  Mmmmm.... 



2.  Chicken Noodle Soup is also a regular on our rotation, especially in the winter.  It's only time-consuming if you start with a whole chicken, but if you have some shredded chicken and broth on standby, it really comes together quickly.  Here's my recipe.



3.  Turkey Patties Parmesan - This meal is a dumbed-down version of the classic Chicken Parmesan, but since I rarely feel up to that whole breading/frying/baking fiasco, I like dumbed-down.  And as a bonus, we all love this meal!  Yummy, easy, perfect

1 lb. ground turkey
1 cup shredded parmesan
1/4 cup italian dressing
Prepared pasta sauce

Combine turkey, half of parmesan cheese, and dressing.  Form mixture into patties and place on lightly oiled broiling pan.  Broil for about 5 minutes (or less) on each side.  Sprinkle the other half of parmesan on top of patties during the last minute of cooking time, browning it slightly.  When fully cooked, top with pasta sauce and serve over a plate of steaming al dente pasta.  Enjoy!



4.  Pasta alla Vodka - Oh, man.  Love.  Love, love.  Thank you Pioneer Woman, for this heavenly meal.  Ugh.  LOVE.


5.  Chimichangas - Or, something like it.  I improvised one night when I had some leftover pot roast, and voila: a favorite was born.  Be warned -- there is no recipe here.  Only a few ingredients without amounts. 

Meat of your choice (I've used shredded pork, shredded beef, ground turkey; the options are endless.)
chopped green chiles
chopped tomato
cumin
garlic powder
chili powder
1 can of drained beans (I've used pinto, kidney, black...all good)
shredded monterey jack cheese
burrito-sized tortillas

Cook meat together with chiles, tomatoes, beans, and spices to taste.  On the center of each tortilla, sprinkle a generous pile of shredded cheese, and top with a spoonful of the meat mixture.  Fold top and bottom, and both side 'flaps' over the fillings to form a square tortilla pouch.  Place (folded flaps down) onto a sprayed baking sheet, and lightly spray each chimichanga with cooking spray.  Bake at 350 for 10 to 20 minutes.  (Again, sorry about the iffy time limits -- just eyeball it!  When they're puffed and golden, they're done.) 



6.  White Bean Chicken Chili from Mel's Kitchen Cafe.  I've made this several times now, using cumin and monterey jack cheese instead of oregano and mozzarella, because I'm weird and don't think mozzarella belongs in something called 'chili'.  But it's tasty either way.  SUCH a good, fast soup.



7.  Minestrone - This is probably the most time-consuming recipe on my 'quick' list, but it's so easy and delicious that I would have felt bad for leaving it out.  The hardest part is chopping up some veggies, which is no big deal, right?  Paired with a fresh, hot loaf of bread, and...oh...it's perfect in any season.

1/2 onion, chopped
3 carrots, thinly sliced
2 stalks celery, sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 Tbsp olive oil
1 can diced tomatoes
1 cup tomato juice
italian herbs (I use basil, parsley, and maybe oregano -- but I'm not a big oregano fan)
2 cups chicken broth
3 - 4 cups water (depending on how thick or soupy you like it)
1 - 2 cups frozen green beans, snapped into tiny bits
1 1/2 cups small pasta (we like ditalini or small shells)
1 can (drained) great northern beans
1 cup shredded parmesan

Heat olive oil in a large pan, sauteing onions, carrots, celery, and garlic.  Add herbs of your choice, broth, and water.  Bring to a boil, then simmer over low heat for about 20 minutes.  Add frozen green beans and pasta, simmering until both are tender.  Add drained beans, and remove from heat.  Gently stir in 1/2 to 3/4 cups parmesan, and use the rest to top individual bowls of soup.  Try to keep your chin clean as you speed-scoop this deliciousness into your impatient mouth.  You're welcome!



Is this post over yet?  It is!  Now, go; cook something quick and delicious!  And stop by Conversion Diary for more Quick Takes!

Bigger Picture Moment: Listening Is Life

A sampling of some of the things I said on Tuesday:

Mia, I told you to get dressed, why are you still playing?  Go!  Now!

Lauren.  LAUREN!  Calm down, honey!  You're fine!

Take a bite, sweetie.  You need to eat, not play.  Take. A. Bite.

GIRLS!  If you can't figure out a way to share those ponies, I'm taking them away.

Amelia Marie, LISTEN to me.

Lauren Jade, listen to ME.


::And it wasn't a bad day, by any means.  We played all day, never left the house, shared meals and baths and snuggles without much ado.  It certainly wasn't a day I would consider to have been difficult.  So why, looking back, do I feel so irritated by myself?  So vaguely dissatisfied?  Because this is what a day could have sounded like::


A sampling of some of the things my girls said yesterday:

Mom, do you know how water turns into ice?  I do.  It just goes WHOOOSH and then spins fast and fast and fast and ... slower...and ... slow... er ... and ... then ... it spins sooooo slow ... that it just ... stops.  And it's frozen!

Mama!  I didn't get outta my bed but I just closed my eyes, and went RIGHT to sleep!  But I was ready to get up, and...and I DIDN'T go pee-pee in my bed! 

This girl at my school, mom?  She doesn't really ever talk much.  She's just...nice.  But SO so so quiet......Um...no.  I don't really ask her to play, but...yeah.  I might sometime.  She's the littlest one there.  And Ethan is the biggest.

Moooooom!  This Tiana doll is my *special* toy, and I can't share it because this is the ONE thing I don't share.  I love her too much!  Lauren, you can't play with her yet.  Okay?  Here.  You can have Baby Julie, okay Lauren?

Mama look!  Look, mama!  I can have Baby Julie!  Oooohhhh baby, it's okay, baby!  Mama will take care of you!  Here's your blankie, Julie!  Um, mama?  Can you watch my Julie baby?  I just have a meeting.  Okay!  I love you!  Bye!  Oh!  I forgot a kiss!


Paying attention every day; listening every moment; interaction, rather than instruction.  Before the moments disappear into a cloud of disinterested adolescence, when they might not want me to hear anything at all. 

Why do I sometimes forget?



Where have you seen the Bigger Picture lately?  Something grand in the mundane?  Something small with giant implications? Link your post below, and thank you for sharing your Bigger Picture Moment! 

Simple, Quick Meal: Chicken & Black Bean Salsa

This recipe is not my own -- but it's completely beyond me where I found it.  Somewhere online, I believe.  (Because where else do I spend my spare time but on the internet?)  Anyway, it's one of my favorites for it's incredibly simple preparation and deliciousness. 

The salsa acts as a quick, flavorful marinade to the chicken, and the thinner you slice it, the more it soaks up the salsa-goodness. (And can I just admit that black beans topped with creamy Monterey Jack cheese is perhaps the most delicious combination since peanut butter began flirting with chocolate?)  This meal usually goes over without any complaints at my house, unless you count Mia's demands that hers be served minus all of the ingredients except chicken.  So see?  It's clearly a hit!


Chicken & Black Bean Salsa

1 lb chicken breasts
1 jar salsa
2 cans black beans
Shredded Monterey Jack cheese

Slice chicken into thin strips.  Pour one and a half to two cups of salsa, depending on how saucy you want the finished product to be, into a 9x13 baking dish.  Layer chicken strips over salsa, and bake in a 350 degree oven for about 25 minutes -- more for thicker-cut chicken, less for thinner -- or until chicken is cooked through.  Drain both cans of beans, and layer them over cooked chicken and salsa.  Place the baking dish back in the oven for about 5 minutes, to warm beans; some will begin to split -- that's perfect.  Finally, sprinkle shredded cheese over the beans, and replace the dish in the oven again for a few minutes until the cheese barely begins to melt. 

We serve this over piles of steaming brown rice, or rolled up in soft tortillas.  Mmmmm.....hope you like it!

Simple, Quick Meal: Parmesan Tilapia

Do you like fish?  In general, I don't.  Most fish is too fishy for my delicate tastes, and I don't get too far with seafood. 

But in an effort to provide at least one fish-based meal for my family, I experimented with the most mild, innocuous type of fish I could find -- Tilapia.  After a few tries, this is what I came up with: Parmesan Tilapia.  It's savory enough to mask most of the (already mild) fish flavor, and simple enough to be a quick, weeknight favorite.  Both of my daughters love it; Justin more than loves it -- he BEGS for it; Even I -- the self-professed fish-hater -- like it. 

It's a keeper!


Parmesan Tilapia

6 Tilapia fillets
2 - 3 Tbsp butter
garlic salt
1/2 cup shredded parmesan cheese

Rinse Tilapia fillets; pat dry.  Evenly arrange fillets on a (lightly oiled or sprayed) broiling rack.  Dot each fillet with approximately 1/2 Tbsp butter, and sprinkle each with a dash of garlic salt.  Broil until fish is white and flaky, about 8 minutes, depending on the thickness of the fillets.  (I never time it, but just keep a close eye on the oven.  Broiling gets the job done quickly.)  When fillets are just this side of done, cover each with a generous sprinkle of shredded parmesan.  One or two tablespoons per fillet should be plenty.  Pop the fish back under the broiler for a minute or two, until the parmesan is a golden brown, melty crust.  Serve immediately. 

I usually add baked sweet potatoes, some sort of rice, and steamed vegetables to round out the dish.  I hope you like it!

Answers for Siouxz: Liar, Liar

I'm feeling a little overwhelmed by all the questions from last week's post, but in an effort to be a good little blogger, I'm just going to plow through and start answering them.  Starting with the first comment.  Ready?  Set?  Here we go!

Siouxz asked:

I would like to know some of your favorite staple recipes. Something you go to often because you make it well, it's fairly easy and your kiddos like it. - I tried the pork chop, onion and apple recipe you blogged about not too long ago and we love it!
And I'm very curious to know the biggest lie you ever told your parents!

Okay, for the sake of simplicity, I'm going to answer the last question first, and then Siouxz, I'll be posting my favorite staple recipes over the next several days.  So just stay tuned, alright?

Now, I'm going to tell you a secret. 

I wasn't the most straight-laced teenager.  I had a very goody-goody appearance, I'll admit, but I tried really hard to be rebellious.

Overall, I wasn't bad, but I definitely pushed the limits, and Mom and Dad?  If you're reading (sigh), please strike what you're about to hear from the record, okay?  If you ask me about this in person, I'll promptly turn twelve shades of red and deny every word of what I'm about to write.  Deny, deny, deny.

------------

Remember my first car?  The super-fast, super-powerful Mustang 5.0?

It sped home at 85 miles-per-hour very nicely one humid summer night when I was almost 17.  I was a few dozen minutes past my curfew, and nervous.  Though I'd promised my parents I was at a friend's house just across town, I had actually been at a party just across a few highways.  This party included all the basics: loud music, sneaky teenagers, bottled Zima, and the guy I was dating.  The boundaries of our relationship were quite undefined, and looking back, I'm very content to say that he wasn't ever a 'boyfriend'.  Just a short-lived blip on the radar of people I involved myself with. 

But back to the party -- it was mostly unmemorable.  I stayed for as long as I thought I could get away with, and finally left when I became frustrated that people were just sitting around drinking.  Boring.  Especially since I hadn't had anything to drink, myself.  I got in my red Mustang, put my foot on the gas pedal, and headed for home.  One highway went by quickly enough.  The second highway, though, became a bit trickier.  I wasn't exactly sure of my whereabouts, so I was already on edge.  (Good reason to take your foot off the gas pedal, huh?  But, nope: color me adolescent.)

When the pale, young deer leaped across the road in front of me, every muscle in my body tensed for impact.  I squeezed my eyes shut so tightly that I never saw the deer fly off the hood of my car.  Somehow, I gathered my wits about me long enough to pull over to the highway's shoulder and peer into my rear view mirror.  The road was deserted and dark.  I couldn't see if there was anything huddled on the ground back there, but since I'd been going so fast, I was sure it would have been too far back anyway.  I was shaking so violently that driving the rest of the way home was certainly not the smartest thing to do, but -- I was already past curfew, already in the middle of a lie about my night's events. 

I didn't get out of the car to see the damage: I just wanted to go home.

Once before, I'd been in a car that had hit a deer, and it had left me shaken.  This time, that shaken part of me morphed into a terrified part.  (For years afterward, I had nightmares about deer -- such innocent creatures!  Ha.  Devious beasts.  Frightening martyrs.  Bah!)  I sobbed for the rest of my drive, crawling along at a snail's pace until I reached my driveway.

My brother was awake when I came home -- my parents, too.  I couldn't have stopped bawling if I'd tried.  Everyone knew something was wrong, least of which was how I came to be so late on my curfew.  I blubbered something about hitting a deer on a street very close to my house, and ended up being comforted by my dad amid my tearful babbling.  (Oh, the shame.)  My poor brother even hopped in his truck to go see if the deer was still there, poking around in ditches and coming up empty.  (On the plus side, I started half-believing that the deer didn't actually die, but merely wandered off, dazed and grumpy.)

The front quarter panel of my awesome, too-tough car was beyond repair: fur was embedded in the shiny red paint; metal was peeled away from metal; the headlight was shattered and dangling. 

Also beyond repair was my no-good, lying soul.  I want to promise that I cleaned up my party-sneaking act after that, and I did for a time -- I was too nervous to be so brash again.  But it took a few more years before I grew up enough to understand that being a goody-goody wasn't entirely bad.

So here I am, Siouxz.  A whole-hearted good-girl.  At last.

(Except, not quite good enough to NOT deny this to my parents.  I'm just...ah...really creative, Mom.  I totally made this up to make my teen-years seem more exciting.  Yeah.  That's it...)

Weekly Column: Preschooler Post-Mortem

Some days, I throw my hands up and willingly admit that I have no clue what I’m doing as a parent: I have no ultimate control, and chaos reigns.  What’s encouraging, though, is that some days I DO feel good about how I’m raising my daughters. 

I had one of those days just last week, though it was immediately preceded by one of the reigning-chaos days.  It was the day after Halloween, in fact.  The day after a weekend of embarrassingly high amounts of candy consumption and a swirl of energy-sucking activity.  If it’s not clear, I’m admitting that Halloween wasn’t our best day this year.  It ended with my daughters being rushed into bed after a melt-down or two, and my husband and I discussing the state of our parenting techniques long into the time when we should have rightfully been pilfering from the kids’ trick-or-treat buckets. 

Our conclusions were mind-blowing in their complexity.  First, we need better follow-through, and second, we need better follow-through.  (See?  Very complex.  Ahem.) 

So the day after Halloween, I had some work to do.  I set about following through, highlighting where the previous night’s behavior had veered off-track, and what we’d be doing to ensure it didn’t happen again.  A post-mortem, of sorts, for a preschooler’s tantrum. 

I’ve tried to do this for years now, and I know it can work.  When my child is misbehaving, any words I speak in those frustrating moments are probably not going to be heard.  She’s angry or embarrassed; her mind isn’t open to understanding the reasons behind her scolding.  That doesn’t mean I’ll lay off the discipline, it just means that I need to stop trying to tell her the particulars of why she’s being disciplined right that minute.  It’s been much more effective for me to save that part for later.  When she’s had a chance to calm down – a few hours later, maybe – she’s so much more open to hearing the reasons behind WHY she got in trouble.  We can discuss the situation and help her work through possible ways it could have been resolved more simply. 

The trouble is that I forget how helpful those post-mortems are.  They take time – thoughtful, intentional time that is so easily forgotten among other parts of our day.  I don’t remember that a review discussion needs to happen because the heat of the moment has passed.  I assume the problem has been solved, and it might be, but that extra step of discussion helps to seal the deal. 

Plus, those discussions lead to more days like the one we had after Halloween. 

One of the first things I did with my preschooler that morning was address the issues from the night before.  We talked about why it wasn’t good to ignore the rules.  We talked about the acceptable ways to state your desires in case of disagreement.  We talked about exactly which consequences would be enforced the next time that situation crops up.  And we did it peacefully.  We even threw in a few ‘practice rounds’ just for kicks, during which time she got to reenact the right way and the wrong way to follow a rule.  She thought this was downright hilarious, and internalized a valuable lesson at the same time.

Our day was peppered with possible ways for the previous night’s behavior to reassert itself, but each time, my daughter handled herself well.  She remembered.  I believe the few moments we took for intentional follow-up discussion were responsible for that.

Either that, or she was all hopped-up on Halloween sugar.  We may never know.


[Online version here.]

It's Not Safe Here

Lauren: *whining* Mamaaaa!  I got hurt on my leg and, and, and I NEED a band-aid!

Mama: Oh, sweetie!  Can I see it?

Lauren: Yup.  It's right here...*pointing to both knees*.  THIS is my boo-boo.  See?  I need a band-aid!

Mama: Hmmm.  I don't see anything, honey.  What happened?  How did you get a boo-boo?

Lauren: I just...I just...bumped into a crocodile!!  Can I have my band-aid?

Bigger Picture Moment: Today Is For Playing

Right now, there is a box of Q-Tips scattered like pick-up-sticks across my living room floor.  There's a fitted sheet covered with dabs of multicolored paint from our last masterpiece session, which won't come clean.  A pile of wrinkling towels sits on the loveseat, napkins and washcloths wedged between the cushions because I've not touched the pile for 36 hours.  Powdered sugar dusts my kitchen floor. 

We are a mess.

And yesterday, I spent 15 minutes dusting the leaves of my peace lily plant.  Clearly, I'm so overwhelmed by all the tasks I don't want to do that I'm settling for trivialities. 

Either that, or I'm merely content to be scattered at the moment.  I'm content to leave those towels right where they are until the cabinet in which they belong is bare.  I'm fine with that stained sheet being stained.  I wouldn't change the powdered sugar on the floor for the world, because I see the white-lipped faces of my daughters when I notice the mess. 

I won't pick up the decaying pumpkin from the front porch, because it makes me laugh watching Mia's excitement as she inspects the newest putrid development each morning. 

We are living here.  We are painting and sculpting and exploring.  We are spilling and tossing.  We are learning and tickling, dancing and burrowing. 

And I love it. 

I'll clean some other day.  Soon, because I know my tendencies to become anxious and untethered if my house gets too far out of control.  But not today.

Today is for playing.




Where have YOU seen the Bigger Picture this week?  Share your moment today at Melissa's place; link up, explore other entries, and keep your mind and heart open for next week's Bigger Picture Moment, hosted right here.  I'd love to hear about your moments!

Two Things

1.        Wow.  You all REALLY came through with the questions on yesterday’s post!  I’ll have plenty of work ahead of me to answer your fantastic questions – which is to say: Thank you.  I feel supported.  But don’t let me stop you from asking more questions if they happen to pop up.  I’ll gladly take more.  (Now I’m feeling greedy…)

2.       Have you been to Hyacynth’s place lately?  She’s hosting an AMAZING giveaway this week – shoes!!  FREE SHOES!!  So, make like a baby and head outta here.  Get thee to Undercover Mother and enter yourself into the running to win a pair of FREE SHOES!!

Ask Sarah The Heavenly

My friends, I'm stuck. 

I want to write something worthy of your time, but I'm feeling very...blah...about blogging lately.  I've contemplated taking a small break just to let myself breathe for a bit, but the truth is, I'm scared to do that.  I'm worried that if I step away from this space for any length of time I'll be too overwhelmed by life to ever come back.  Or that if I turn off my writing here, it'll be impossible to turn it back on again.  Or -- worse still -- I'll miss you all terribly, but you won't even notice I'm gone.  (It's true -- I'm insecure.)

So I need your help.  Will you do me a favor? 

Ask me a question!  Or a handful of questions -- anything you care to know!  Whether it's something about me, personally, or just something on which you want some outside input, please ask!

Want to know the biggest lie I ever told my parents in high school?  Ask! 

Want to hear about any of my specific favorites/pet peeves/fears/hopes?  Fire away!

Questions on recipes, marriage, being a big dork, parenting, decorating (ha)?  Lay it on me! 

Anything you've been dying to know about my heavenly life?  I promise to give an answer.  I can't swear I'll know exactly how to answer, but I'll give it my best shot.  I might devote an entire post to it, or I might bundle it up with another group of questions -- but I'll answer it for sure. 

Because I want to talk to you, my lovelies.  I just need a little boost on where to start. 

So please!  Ask Sarah the Heavenly!

Swirly Girl

The very best ingredient in her Halloween bucket:

The very bane of my sticky avoidance issues.

The very sweetest girl -- she was beyond careful.  My tiny hero.

Weekly Column: Prior Proper Planning

I stood by, open-mouthed in horror, as my toddler dumped a cup of bathtub water directly onto the bathroom floor.  The water seeped across the tile, soaked into a rug, splattered the wall, and fueled my fire.  I was enraged. 

We had been over this so many times: KEEP THE WATER IN THE TUB!  And so many times it has come pouring out, whether by accident or happy insurgence.  In fact, water being dumped out of the bathtub is such a common occurrence that you would think I’d have figured out a way to stop it by now.

I haven’t.

The possibilities are reasonable enough, though. I could remove all cups from the tub, or give a time-out after the bath, or spray her with cold shower water…

Oh, but I wouldn’t do that last one.  Probably.

The point is that there were things I could do rather than just saying “Don’t do that again,” and becoming irritated when she disobeyed, but I hadn’t yet taken the time to think too deeply about them.  And that’s the problem.  The ‘not thinking’ gets us nowhere.  We go in circles of unwanted behavior from an experimental toddler who inevitably ends up with a frustrated mama. 

So when my bathroom floor was – yet again – flooded with bathwater, I was spurred into action which should have been taken months ago.  I took all cups and water-scooping toys from the tub, exiling them to the sink until further notice.  And as simple as that, the water stayed in the tub for the rest of bath time. 

Having a plan is, for me, one of the most helpful ways to keep my cool as a parent.  When I’m caught off guard by some messy disaster or willful disobedience, I can barely see past my surprise or anger in that moment.  All I can think about is how much I wish my child hadn’t just smashed a grape on the TV screen or pulled over the floor lamp.  How much they should know better. 

But the truth is, sometimes toddlers just don’t know better – they’re experimenting or learning cause and effect, and they don’t see what’s wrong.  It’s my job to teach them.  And it’s my job to not be blinded by frustration in the heat of the moment.  If I’m too swamped in my own irritation, I’ll never be able to recover quickly enough to see what needs to happen next.  Should it be a time-out?  A lost privilege?  A natural consequence?   

That’s where prior planning comes in handy.  I have a fairly standard set of consequences for bad behavior, so when something goes wrong I’ll know what to do next.  It won’t boil down to me yelling and feeling out of control, because I know what I should do.  And if I know what I should do, I can do it calmly. 

My standard consequences aren’t anything fancy, but they suit us well.  For example, if my preschooler refuses an instruction the first time, she gets warning to try again, followed by a time-out.  If my toddler throws her cup from the dinner table, she gets nothing more to drink with her meal.  If my daughters start arguing over a toy and can’t figure out how to share it peacefully, the toy is removed.  These consequences are simple, but knowing what action I should take ahead of time helps me remain focused on the situation, not my anger.

Planning ahead helps teach disciplinary lessons with patience and love -- two traits that are among the most necessary parenting tools in our possession.

[Online version here.]

Never Punctual

Alright, alright, you all can stop begging me to post our Halloween pictures.  (Not that anybody has, but I feel beholden to the spirit of Autumn to offer up these photos before November gets any further along.)

Our Halloween evening was...good.  I mean, to be honest, it could have been better.  Probably by me calming down and just enjoying the moments for what they were, rather than trying to rush to the next event on our calendar.  Either way, these little girls were CUTER than cute, and they had fun.

Even if the witch couldn't wear her hat because it kept blowing off in the wind.

And even if Tinkerbell brandished a hefty club instead of a magic wand.

 And even if the trick-or-treating took a back seat to one spectacularly spooky lawn ornament.

And even if we were quite grumpy and exhausted at the end of the evening.

Halloween was good, and I've got the giant bowl of candy to prove it.  Although by now, that bowl is fairly devoid of chocolate.  And who wants non-chocolate candy?