100 or 33

While I am not the biggest fan of Mother's Day because I am an awkward gift receiver, I still do enjoy getting the school made gifts from the girls. My favorite are the survey types where the girls answer questions about me.  Since A2 goes to the same preschool that A1 attended, I received a Mother's Day gift this year similar to the one I received when A1 was in the three year old class.  I have had several laughs comparing the way the two girls view me.

The girls seem to agree on some things:

 

 I guess this just proves that no matter how you see yourself your child will think you are pretty...



A1

A2

They both nailed it! This one was kinda easy since I wear A LOT of purple because it is one of our school colors.

 
 
 

A1



A2

 Other things they really didn't agree on...

 

 

Things seemed to have improved in the last three years...



 

 

 

They might have different answers but they are both right.

 

This one I am thankful they got wrong because the truth would have been embarrassing.  Both girls had a wide variety of interesting shows they could have picked.  I am thankful they didn't pick Myrtle Manor, TeenMom, or Vampire Dairies.

 

It is fun to see yourself through your kids' eyes!  These gifts will be treasured forever and I can't wait until A3 is old enough to make one too!



Tummy Trauma

This weekend we had our first swimming party since last summer so that meant a crazy search for swimming suits, even though all three girls got new suits for their birthdays last month.  The new suits disappeared somewhere between our laundry room and the girls' bedroom... I will find them before summer.

I managed to find two suits that belonged to A1.  As luck would have it one happened to fit A2.  Yes!!! Crisis averted, A1 and A2 had something to wear.  A3 wasn't getting in since I don't even own a suit and she can't swim alone and I really don't trust her mermaid-wanna-be sisters.

Before we left, I found A2 almost in tears staring at herself in the mirror wearing an adorable Ariel bikini.  I asked her what was wrong.  I took a deep breath, counting to ten in my head trying to keep the anger at bay, expecting her to be mad because she was wearing A1's suit; instead she said, "Everyone is going to laugh at me." Slowly coming down from my rage mountain I asked her why people would laugh. She said, "Because my tummy is fat and it sticks out when I wear this swimmy suit. People will laugh at my fat tummy." I was sunk.  I didn't know what to say to this mostly sweet 4 year old.  I, of course, told her that no one would laugh at her and that she was perfect just the way she was.  I told her that she should be proud of her tummy because without it her legs would be stuck in her armpits and that would be uncomfortable.  A1 jumped into the convo at this point. She squatted down and folded herself up so she looked like her legs were coming out of her armpits.  Then she tried to walk around the room.  She was unsuccessful at walking but she did manage to make A2 laugh and kind of forget about her tummy issues. Phew, thank goodness for A1! 

As I was throwing the last towel in the bag A2 asked me where my "swimmy suit" was and I told her I hadn't bought one for this summer yet.  She wanted to know what kind I would get, would it be a bikini like hers?  I told her it wouldn't be a bikini and then she wanted to know why I wouldn't but a bikini for myself if I buy bikini's for them.  With the earlier tummy trauma fresh in my mind I wanted to be smart with my answer.  I didn't want to tell her the first things that came to my mind which were, "Have you seen my stomach?" or "I don't buy bikini's because I am a mother of 3 in her mid 30's who loves McDonald's and hates working out." or even "I have had quiet body image issues most of my life.  I haven't bought a bikini since I was in college." I recognize that I was talking to a 4 year old and not a therapist.  I didn't want to burden her with my issues, although I may have already done so without those intentions.  I simply told her a half truth... I said I hadn't found one I liked.  That was true, I hadn't found one I liked because I hadn't looked for one in the first place.  I always head straight for the tankinis with the "water park mom" skirts.

Then she issued a little challenge for me, she said, "You should go to Target.  They have bikini's there.  You should be proud of your tummy like me." Man, she is good!  She knows how to turn my advice back on me AND she throws in my favorite store.  It looks like I will probably be buying 2 suits this year.  A bikini for the backyard and my standard tankini for public when my bikini is being washed.  I can already tell this is going to be an interesting summer!


Now I hope this pride in your tummy talk doesn't come back to haunt me in a few years...

Delightfully Different

No matter how many times I am faced with the differences between the girls I am always a little surprised and somewhat amazed at a new discovery.  The differences can be simple like the things they choose to eat; A1 hates goldfish crackers, A2 and A3 love them, A2 and A3 love hummus and A1 HATES it, A1 and A3 LOVE oatmeal and A2 detests it!  The differences can be more complex things that only those who spend a lot of time with the girls would know for example, A1 enjoys having her back scratched, while A2 prefers having her stomach scratched, and yet A3 likes to have her head rubbed. I promise I am talking about humans and not dogs!

Tonight's discovery/reminder made me laugh and scared me at the same time. 

A1 had just fessed up to kissing a boy under the picnic table at school.  She was super serious, with big eyes and slightly red cheeks, as she told me the details of this very special kiss on the cheek she received at the beginning of the school year from another first grader.  She ended story by admitting that she returned the favor by kissing this boy on the cheek as well.

 I put on my best serious face as I explained the hazards of boy kissing.  I started by appealing to her germ-a-phobic side.  I told her she could catch horrible illnesses by kissing boys. Nothing. Then I went on to tell her that she could get kicked out of school for kissing at school.  Nailed it!  She began a strange mixture of whimpering/crying and hyperventilating, shallow, rapid, breathing.  She was totally panicked.  It had never occurred to her that as a punishment she could get kicked out of school.  She started to question me.  I reassured that being kicked out of school is an absolutely reasonable punishment for kissing. 

About this time A2 joined in on the conversation.  Her eyes lit up.  Her face beamed with joy.  She exclaimed to A1, "If you don't have school then you won't have homework, PARTY!" Here is were I started to get nervous... what 4 year old thinks getting kicked out of school would be a fun punishment in order to avoid homework? This just dug at A1 more.  She argued that it would be the worst punishment because they would have to be home schooled and since mommy is already a teacher she would be really mean.  Tears started at this time.  A2 was beginning to dance a little. 

A1 yelled in between sobs in a strange high pitched voice to A2, "No, that would be awful.  They would take learning away.  We wouldn't be able to learn really cool stuff. Mommy wouldn't let us have chicks. We would be idiots for the rest of our lives." I began to feel slightly insulted and proud at the same time.  A2 lost interest in this conversation.  She shrugged her shoulders, contorted her face, as only A2 can, and she left the room.

How can I be raising a scholar and a party-girl?What does A3's future hold? I pray that their difference continue to amaze and entertain me!

Oh and please don't tell Mac about the kissing, I promised A1 I wouldn't tell him...

Self esteem

A few weeks ago I read on facebook that a girl's self esteem peaks at the age of nine... and since I read it on fb it must be true.  Regardless of the possible validity, I immediately started to panic.  What if I haven't done enough to help A1 achieve the greatest self esteem she could possibly have?  She only has two years left until her self esteem peaks. 

Now, people who know A1 would think I am crazy for worrying about this girl's self esteem.  At first glance she appears to have everything under control.  She knows what she wants and she knows how to get it. I mean as much as any 7 year old could.  I see these things in her too but I also see a different side.  I see a girl who is very kind hearted and sensitive.  I see a girl who is worried about what others think of her.  A girl who wants everyone to like her.  A girl who is so focused on those few people who don't like her that she is willing to do things like pick up dog poop so another girl will play with her.  I worry that if she is willing to pick up poop now, what will she be willing to do when the stakes are higher when she is older?

I needed a plan. Since self esteem is being able to accept yourself for who you are, faults and all, I figured I should start by helping A1 understand that it is ok not being perfect.  She is a perfectionist and is very hard on herself when she makes a mistake or isn't able to to do something easily the first time.  First, I decided to ask her to list things that she was good at and things she needed help with.  She rattled off a long list of things she was good at, singing, dancing, swimming, putting on makeup, making up stories, playing the guitar, and doing math. She had a harder time coming up with a list of things she needed help with; cleaning her earrings was the only one she was able to think of on her own. 

For the next part of my plan I decided to let her sign up for any camp she wanted.  Let her try new things.  I was worried that she hadn't had the opportunity to play soccer or other sports since I had only put her in dance.  I worried that I was holding her back from reaching her full potential.  We went through the many different camp options offered from the school and community.  She wanted to try 7 different things this summer; swimming, tennis, basketball, soccer, gymnastics, cheer leading, and volley ball. I worried that this would be too much for one summer and I am not sure how many of those things she will be able to actually do since some of them take place at the same time and she is still too young for some...

The final part of my plan was to realize that A1 is fine the way she is.  She is interested in so many things.  She is only 7 and has so much time ahead of her.  My A1 is a special and unique girl she doesn't need me to pressure her into having a good self esteem with lists and camps.  I needed to leave my own self esteem issues out of my dealings with A1.  My own self esteem issues that have improved since becoming an adult and therefore, my self esteem DID NOT peak at 9.

Spring break is broke

My spring break is broke. My week of spring break freedom is coming to an end.  I am left with a long to-do-list of uncrossed-off projects and plans.  I am having that panicky Sunday night return to work feeling where I try to cram a week's worth of work into two hours.  I feel the crabbiness creeping into my body.  It is wanting to take over the fun relaxed mom that lived in my body for a week. 

Instead of scolding myself for avoiding work, I think I should focus on all the things that I did accomplish this week.  Maybe an attempt at staying positive will fight off the meanies ready to consume me. 

What I did on spring break 2013:

1. Played with A1, A2, and A3.
2. Baked 3 cakes for my sister.
3. Wore a dress.
4. Painted 30 toenails and 20 fingernails.
5. Made 9 days worth of breakfast including 4 batches of Cinnamon rolls.
6. Watched a new Barbie movie with the girls
7. Washed all the outside Little Tykes Toys with A2
8. Found the floors of all the bedrooms
9. Wrote a Young Authors story with Annelyse
10. Sang all the Seussical songs OVER, and OVER, and OVER again
11. Made meatloaf pucks
12. Took the girls to the doctor two different times.
13. Went to the pharmacy two different times.
14.  Had lunch at Red Lobster.
15. Watched a Foot Puppet Show performed by A2
16. Laughed, Laughed, Laughed
17. Folded some laundry
18. Picked out the plants for our garden
19. Ate 6 bags of Brach's Malted Eggs
20. Started running again

I may not have gotten all my Aimsweb caught up or all the rooms re-organized but I was super busy all week.  I was making memories with my girls who won't ever be 1, 4, and 7 on spring break again.

A 3's War Story

Soon after delivering her first child a mom realizes that all women who have given birth enjoy sharing their birth story.  Our bodies spend time in battle mode. We are instinctively fighting for our own life and the life of our soon to be child. By the end we have been to war.  It is our war stories that bond us.  We share them every time we see a new baby.  We share them as soon as we hear someone is pregnant.  We share them around bonfires when curious newly weds inquire.  We share them anytime. 

A3's first birthday seems like a perfect time for me to share my war story, and let's be honest when isn't it a perfect time to share your war story...

March 6, 2012
After a stressful day of of giving the ISAT's, I started making dinner for A1 and A2.  Mac was in tech week for a show he was directing, so it was going to be a quiet girl night.  I had to rest a little bit while I made dinner because I would occasionally have contractions, which is to be expected when you are 4 days away from your due date with your 3rd baby.  But I just wasn't ready yet, my goal was to make it until the end of the week.  I still had 4 day until my due date and I had a lot of things to do before I was ready to be a mom of 3.

No matter how long I sat in the recliner the contractions weren't going away and A1 and A2 were starting to get wild.  They decided it would be a perfect time to perform a concert and dance show.  They were wrong.  I called for back up.  I called Caley first.  I didn't want to call my mom because she would tell me I needed to go to the hospital and I didn't want to do that.  I still had 4 days until my due date. 

Caley showed up and so did my mom.  Caley called her on the way to my house, apparently she didn't that I was being reasonable and thought she might need our mom for additional assistance.  They came in the living room, nervous.  They sat on the floor beside the recliner unsure of how to approach the crazy women in denial.  We sat in silence, well as much silence as you can have with a concert and slam dancing going on in the background.  After several contractions my mom convinced me to go to the hospital.  Caley and Crystal agreed to take me.  On the way I decided I would call Mac and let him know where I was going.  I told him not to worry about coming right away and that I would call him when I knew if they were going to keep me.  I knew they wouldn't because I still had 4 days until my due date. 

Mac got to the hospital shortly after we got there.

I sat in triage for and hour. I walked laps for 30 minutes.  The contractions didn't increase.  I was told I was dehydrated and released.  They laughed and said I still had a few days until the baby would be here.  Duh! I still had 4 days until my due date.  On the way home we stopped at the Golden Arches. I felt defeated.  I needed to eat my feelings.

We sent my mom home.  We ate.  We went to bed.  I had to go to work in the morning.  I had ISATs.

All night long I tossed and turned.  My contractions increased in frequency and ferocity.  Mac was timing them. Kind of.  The jury is still out on this discussion.  I know he was sleeping and he swears he was awake the entire time. The snoring was my big clue.

March 7, 2012
I was NOT going back to the hospital.  I wasn't going to go in there and be sent back home again.  At 5:00 I started timing my own contractions.  I was at 3 minutes.  I called my mom.  She and my dad were over in about 7 minutes.  She sat and tried to reason with me.  She timed my contractions.  1 minute apart. She played the mom card and told me I had to go to the hospital.  But I still had 3 days until my due date.

We gave my parents instructions on when and where the girls needed to be and we said our goodbyes.  I was still insisting I would be sent home in an hour. 

We got to the hospital.  I was wheeled passed triage. They took one look at my face and said, "Get her a room." A flood of emotions hit me all at once.  I wasn't going to be going back home that day.  I was about to meet our baby for the first time.  Find out if we were having a boy or a girl.  Figure out how to share our love and time with 3 instead of just 2.  We were about to be out numbered. 

I was examined and told I was only half way there so I would have a lot of time before the baby would be here.  I requested an epidural. After an hour the nurse came in an told me it would be a little bit before I could get my epidural so she offered me something they called the "beer shot." I was told it would make me feel drunk and a little loopy but I would still be aware of what was going on.  My mom taught me manners and it would have been rude to turn them down on that shot. 

I was really glad I took it!  I could still feel every contraction but I didn't care.  I was able to relax for a few minutes.  At 7:45 they came in to break my water.  Nothing had changed since I first got there, except I got my epidural, and I was told it would be a little while longer.  I called my mom and gave her the the update.  No need to hurry it would still be awhile. 

At 8:40 I called the nurse and told her I was feeling a little nauseous.  She came in and handed me something to throw up in if I needed to and left because she has another patient down the hall ready to deliver.  I waited another 15 minutes and called back.  I just wasn't feeling good, at all.  It was probably that McDonald's I ate the night before.  Two nurses came in. Mac left the room. One nurse peaked under the blanket, her suddenly widened eyes met the other nurses.  The 2nd nurse said, "Is that the..." The other nurse bluntly said, "Yes, get the dr here." She then noticed Mac was gone.  She panicked.  She found my cell phone and told me to call him.  I tried to sit up and she yelled, "No! Don't move!" I tried to call him but he didn't answer.  She kept asking, "Where is your husband? When will he be here?"

Mac walked in.  The Dr walked in.  She greeted me. Examined me and said, "Ok here we go.  On the next contraction you are going to push." I braced myself preparing for the pushing. The push was the equivalent of a sneeze and she yelled. "Stop!" The cord was around the baby's neck.

Within seconds the cord was removed. Then I was told to do a small push.

"IT's A GIRL!"

After all the celebrating I overheard my normally calm doctor lecture the nurses for not checking me more and waiting as long as they did to call her.  She reminded them that when a woman is feeling nauseous it is a sign she is ready to deliver.

A few hours had passed when everything finally sunk in... I almost delivered without Mac or the doctor there.  I could have had a major tragedy to deal with but I didn't God had it all under control.  Everything I came in worrying about didn't really matter at all.  I instantly knew it would be possible to love 3.  I knew we would find time to take care of 3. I knew I had a new and wonderful war story to share.

100% Proud

Normally I am embarrassed by A1's bold attempts to correct the wrongs of the world, her fearless need to stand up for what she thinks is right, but last night I was so proud of her!
 
I took her on our one-on-one shopping trip just to run a few errands.  While we waited in line at Michael's a little red headed girl loudly demanded that her mom buy her some candy, as is common with most 7 year olds. The three adults in line behind us also noticed this child.  One of the women in the group said to her friends, "What else would you expect from a Ginger?" Then the rest of the group laughed.
 
I glanced down at A1 hoping she didn't hear these cruel remarks while I bit my tongue trying not to tell these women they were rude and should be ashamed of themselves.  I saw the fury of injustice streak across A1's face.  I had a small twinge in my stomach knowing A1 was not going to bite her tongue...

She turned to the ladies, "My mom says it isn't nice to call someone a Ginger.  You shouldn't make fun of someone for the way they look.  And I think she is pretty." A1 turned around.  The ladies looked a little embarrassed.  The cashier chuckled. 

My face was bright red but I was only 5% embarrassed, mostly because my 6 year old did the right thing while I stood and did nothing.  I was 100% proud of my little human right's activist!