I would never "steal" my kids' candy or impose a "candy tax"

Yes, I'm one of those people. I always cringe a bit when Halloween brings out those phrases from people about how they "steal" their child's trick or treating candy, or mention "candy tax" for taking them door to door.

Seriously? You'd steal candy from your own kid?

It's no secret that I don't love holidays. I love candy even less.

Especially the candy you receive from trick or treating.

White sugar and GMO soy coated in GMO high fructose corn syrup. The concoction is enough to make anyone bonkers. And it goes against everything that I know is healthy.

But it's one day out of the year. The kids know that any candy with food dye is off limits, so that's not even an issue. H will break out in hives, and they're a team. So they happily put it in a plastic bag to go away with J to work for others to feast on. And in return I give them organic lollipops and gummi bears - it's a fair trade. Always.

Everything else, the chocolate stuff, is free game.

There isn't a ton of it anyway, because we don't trick or treat until they've got candy coming out the wazoo. We hit up a dozen houses and let it be. That's easy to restrict. They have fun trick or treating, I have the ability to control all the HFC going into their bodies without "stealing" anything from them.

With a handful of mini candy bars left - they're theirs.

Even if they have something I adore - I do not steal it. I do not impose a "candy tax" and declare it mine.

I do, however, ask.

And they have the right to say no. And it's okay if they don't forfeit their candy to me (they typically do, though - they're typically very happy to share with anyone).

I'm an adult. I have money. I can go buy a candy bar for myself if I really want one. No sense in stealing my children's candy just because I want it.

Because what is that teaching them?

It doesn't matter if you did the work to get something.

It doesn't matter if it's technically yours.

I can take whatever I want from you because you're small and I'm big.

No thank you.

That's not what I want to teach my kids.

So yes, I find the "candy tax" appalling and loathe when people laugh about "stealing" their kids' candy.

Go buy your own if you want it so badly. Use it as a teaching moment about how you have to work hard to earn money to buy the things you want. Don't use it as a teaching moment to teach your kids how you can take what you want if you're big enough or intimidating enough.

A day in the life of

Daily it seems I look at those two amazing little babes and I'm blown away that J and I created them.

They're so charismatic and brave and intelligent and courageous and optimistic. And beautiful. Oh, so beautiful.

They make me laugh like no one else quite can.

Today as I was gathering laundry from my bedroom they sat on the floor, B's shirt lifted in the back while H examined his spine.

H said to him, "Why do you have a spine back here?"

B replied in his oh-so frequent, matter-of-fact, "'Cause!"

H dragged her finger up his spine. "It's like you're like a dinosaur!"

"Yep!" B smiled.

"It's cool. I really love it!"

"Why thank you!" B replied in his high, squeaky voice.

And this is just a sample of the constant conversations between them each day. They're a non-stop riot and I love it!

Today H wanted to match B, who was adorned in a shirt with a monster on it.

Unable to find a monster shirt that wasn't way too tiny for her, I came up with some leftover fabric from having made B a romper last winter. "I could make you a shirt out of this," I offered H.

"A dress," H declared. "A dress will work just fine. It's all I've ever wanted, just a monster dress."

And taking a break from my to-do list to make a quick and simple monster dress for her was worth every second as she beamed from ear to ear when she finally put it on, squealing, "You are the best momma ever! I love it! I love you!"

Most days the kiddos are only allowed one episode of TV - Daniel Tiger. There are exceptions of course - rainy days and teething days we typically watch a bit more or splurge and watch a movie. Today, as it rain/sleet/snowed outside, we opted to also watch an episode of Thomas the Tank Engine. After the shows were over they looked at me in those oh-so terrific, melt-my-heart smiles and asked to go to the bakery.

At that point it was only lightly snowing, so I agreed. It's too close to drive being a block and half away, so the weather needed to be decent enough to walk. The kids' put on their winter ware which made me all to aware of the fact that somehow all their one million and seven winter hats and gloves are missing in our house that has zero storage, so now I must buy more...

So off the bakery we went, where we all chose a chocolate donut with raspberry icing. And then H and B decided they needed another and chose a regular donut with chocolate icing and sprinkles.

I seriously love this bakery. Not that we should be eating donuts everyday, but it makes me happy that they're not fried and they're made out of non-questionable ingredients. Of course, we pay a sweet dime for that peace of mind. Go figure.

 

Then of course, they wanted to play Ms. PacMan. They totally knew what they were doing when they put this arcade game in. My kids on the other hand, they have no clue what they're doing. But they like to try anyway.

Then Miss H had her first ice skating lesson this evening. I was so proud of her it actually brought tears to my eyes, as hokey as it is to admit. She was just so fearless. She fell down, she got right back up with a smile on her face. She was so determined, and she actually did awesome, despite being on ice and having to balance like that for the first time.

She was so proud of herself when she came off the ice. "Mommy, did you see that? I was so awesome! It made me so happy to do that! Can I do it again on a different day?"

Melt my heart, girl-o. Melt my heart.

 

 

During H's lesson I sat on a bench watching her, nursing B. An older lady was there, sitting next to me, watching her granddaughters on the ice. She struck up a conversation with me, asking which kiddo on the ice was mine. She peeked over and asked if B was sleeping and I chuckled and said, "Nope, just nursing."

 

"Oh, I'm so sorry to do that!" She said, having tried to see him buried beneath my coat.

 

"It's totally fine," I told her. "If I had a problem with someone seeing me feed my son in public, I wouldn't do it in public."

 

"You're such a strong young lady," she said to me. "If more people nursed in public, it wouldn't be taboo."

 

I smiled and agreed.

 

"I didn't breastfeed my babies," she told me. "It was a different time and we just didn't know. But you guys know so much more than we did back in my day about kids. You're a more conscientious and kind generation."

 

"I hope so," I said. "I hope that becomes the norm. I know the next generation will probably even be better."

 

"They'll know more," she agreed.

 

Then her little granddaughters were done and we bid adieu. Some times, there are little angels like that lady who help reinforce my faith in the human race. That it is kind. That it is capable of recognizing mistakes and working to fix them.

 

Of course, after the ice skating lessons we drove through McDonalds so the kids could have cheeseburgers for dinner as it was all ready their bedtime (see, we do eat crap. I just don't buy it at the grocery store, ha!).

 

While I tucked B into bed that evening. H told J all about her ice skating adventure while they played "server" together.

 

And I watched for a few minutes before whisking her away to bed as well.

Sometimes I get glued to watching the scenes play out in front of me - especially when it is J with our children. Because the way he is such an incredible and involved papa never ceases to make me giddy. And of course, I pat myself on the back for doing so well - I picked such an amazing man to be my husband and the father to my children.

Goodness, I love my family.

And I love spending every single second with them. Even when they're just "boring, ordinary days."

 

I let my kids quit

I used to think I wouldn't let my kids "quit" things. If they signed up, they were committed. Whether they chose the activity or not. Whether they liked it or not. They could handle a session or season or whatever.

You just don't quit. Period.

And with H, that's been easy. H loves everything. And excels at everything.

Okay, that's not 100% true. She didn't truly love soccer the way she does ballet and gymnastics and swimming and...you get the point. But she certainly liked it enough to be asking pretty much weekly when she gets to do it again. So she did like it. And she wasn't like amazing or anything. I think J's soccer player is going to be B, truthfully. And no, not because he's a boy. But because he really was good. At not even 18 months old back when H was doing soccer he was better than most of the 4 year olds. And I'm not saying this because I'm biased; I'm saying this because every one else watching him kept saying it.

Anyway, back to point.

No quitting.

I signed B up for his first swimming lessons. I feel guilty that it took me this long, truthfully. H has been in swimming lessons since she was 6 months old. She's a water bug.

B...well, B, not so much. He doesn't exactly love the water as is. He likes it enough, for sure. In small doses. He's a lot like his momma. But truly loves it? No. Not yet, anyway.

We did his first swim lesson yesterday.

He loathed it.

He talked about it all day, saying he didn't want to go back. J and I both talked to him at separate times about it, trying to figure out if he didn't really want to go back, why, etc., etc. (Yes, he's two. Yes, he's still a human being).

Ultimately, we decided to pull him from the swimming lessons.

Something I thought I'd never do.

I never thought that I'd let my kids quit something.

And then I had kids.

And I had B.

And I realized I know nothing, and my kids are totally in control of their own lives.

He has other things he loves to do. Gymnastics. Ballet. He loves ballet so much. If he could do it every day, I know he would. No questions asked.

So even though he's little, I will happily let him do the things he loves. And I won't push the things he doesn't. Especially when it's an extracurricular anyway. If he doesn't love swimming, then he doesn't love swimming. And that's okay.

I'll help him foster and work on the things he does love.

Because in the end, those are the things that matter.

Not the things he quits.

The right balance?

I struggle a lot with finding the right balance. Not the right balance with kids, house, marriage, etc (I got that down!). But the right balance on what's enough for the kids. Enough activities, enough free time, enough stimulation, etc.

I'm like a crazy person teeter tottering back and forth.

Mostly daily.

Today is a lazy day around here. A rarity for the most part. It's rainy and wet and the car is being worked on so we are home bound all day.

We've played board games and read books a million. We all pitched in to pick up and clean up around the house. I cleaned the kitchen and organized the cabinets and did laundry while the kids entertained themselves with art projects and I finally put in "The Incredibles" and plopped my teething, pitiful B in front of the TV.

And once I finally took the second to sit down and breathe I felt guilty. Which is silly. Right?

I felt bad that we've been home all day. They haven't spent hours at the park or library, or partaken in one of their numerous organized activities (ballet, gymnastic, ice skating, swim lessons...and those are just the ones I pay for! We've got quite a few free ones we participate in weekly, too).

Yesterday was busy. We went to story time and spent all afternoon at the Children's Museum. And when we don't have busy days like that I find myself wondering if it's enough.

Are they getting enough mental and physical stimulation? Are they getting too much on our busy go-go-go days? Are they getting enough attention from me?

I can never figure out if we are way too busy, or not busy enough. It seems every time I feel like maybe we are teetering on too much and I take a break, then I fear we are really falling into not enough.

And then I stop and remind myself that they're 2 and 3 years old.

And yet I still don't really even know what that even means in this whole equation. Except that they are 2 and 3.

So should they be doing more because they are 2 and 3 and this is the time to get them involved and figure out what their true interests are?

Or is this the time when we should be doing less because they're so little and they need more unorganized time?

I will add as an aside here, that my kiddos are the one who requests the activities at this point.

And maybe that should be what I focus on. If they're asking to participate in activities, then it's all okay? Because they know their limits?

Then again, although I trust they know their limits for the most part, I also know that sometimes I know things a bit better and make the wiser decisions. Like H knows when she is tired, and occasionally will ask to go to bed; but mostly if I were to let her go until she finally said enough, she'd all ready be in meltdown mode. And I'd prefer to prevent that, of course.

Lots of kids don't participate in any organized activities at these ages, and they're obviously not hindered. And then there are lots of kids who do way more. Same goes for them.

I actually find this parenting thing to be so much easier as each day passes. I know more. I've made a few more mistakes, which makes me just that much wiser.

But when it comes to this dilemma, each passing day does not make things easier. Does not make me wiser.

Because I'm still clueless on the right balance.

Fall Ranch Fun

J and I took H and B to a fall festivities ranch today. My dad and step-mom, as well as my cousin and her sweet daughter S, came with us. It was a fantastic afternoon with great people and the kiddos had an absolute blast.

I won't bog you down with a lot of words today, and just let the pictures tell the story...though I will say that is was hard to reduce the amount of pictures from our day just down to these.

I love bedtime

I used to dread bedtime.

Because it always seems to take forever. Especially on those nights when - oh my goodness - you just need them to go to sleep all ready because you've all ready been up with them for 15 straight hours and how can they not even have a glimmer of sleepiness going on?

You know what I'm talking about.

It's tortuous.

And then, weirdly enough, one day I just didn't dread it.

I loved it.

Yes, for real.

And I actually really love bedtime now.

It isn't any quicker. Some nights it takes hours. But I don't find myself wishing they'd hurry up and just fall asleep anymore.

I love how they both pile on my lap in the big chair, each braced with their bedtime story choice. I love how engrossed they are in their books, how they recite the words on the pages with me.

I love how they clasp their tiny hands together and recite the words to "Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep." And then they scurry up to their rooms and put their pj's on and climb into their twin-sized beds.

I love tucking sweet B in while he chatters to me about things I can't even legitimately pretend to understand. And I love that he also chatters to me about things I do understand in his broken baby language. I love that he replays his day to me. "Fell down. Blood. Whoa, Eeo, whoa. Swing like a monkey. Push, push! I wub you, Momma!" Yes, that's his day in a nutshell, most days. And I love it. Minus the blood part, of course. But that just seems inevitable these days.

Then I kiss and snuggle him up and lay down with him for a few minutes, playing with his soft curls, rubbing his tiny back, smelling that awesome baby smell before moving on down the hall to the Pinkalicious room where my big girl is waiting for me.

H and I read from a Veggie Tales books each night, that has a Bible verse and talks about it. It pertains to kids things - obeying your parents, being kind, not lying, being respectful, etc., etc. And there is always a special prayer for that day. And we talk about the day. She reflects on all the good things, she openly discusses and brings up on her own her misbehaviors, and we discuss what a more appropriate reaction should be the next time. I always tell her how beautiful she is - her brain, her heart, and face.

I always tell her how much I adore her. How happy I am to be her momma and how she's the best gift in the world God could have ever given me (I tell this to B, too. But I don't think he quite gets it yet.) H always tells me how lucky she is to have me, too. And that always melts me.

Then she lays down and I cuddle her until she passes out.

So, yes, I love bedtime. As long and gruesome as it sometimes may be. Though there are days I'm exasperated, days I would really like to just be snuggled on the couch with a bottle glass of wine, watching TV, I still love bedtime.

I love the time I get to just read and talk and pray with my children. Those moments before they reach slumberland are when some of our best, heartfelt conversations take place. And knowing that they get to drift into the sweet abyss of dreamland with Momma by their side, safe and secure, makes me overwhelming happy.

I'm sure that I don't do a lot of things right some days. I'm human. I mess up. But bedtime, I get that right. Every night. I get that right.

And I love it.

Cheese!

Some days, you just gotta smile and be thankful for the best things you have!