"It makes me feel sick."

I'm not a yeller.

Actually, that's a complete lie.

My natural instinct is to yell. I'm just super awesome at swallowing it back down and telling myself to chill the fuck out because yelling doesn't help.

Until these past few days.

I've yelled four times.

That might not seem like a big deal to a lot of people, but it's a big deal to me. An even bigger deal to my sweet babes.

It wasn't something that made me feel good. I wasn't pleased when my scared kids performed whatever I'd asked of them because momma raised her voice. I didn't feel any pleasure from "exerting my power" or "controlling my kids."

And then H took the words right out of my mouth last night.

We'd read our bedtime books, said our prayers. She was laying down while I scratched her back and nursed B to sleep.

"Mommy," H whispered. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course," I replied.

"I don't like it when you get mad. It makes me feel sick."

"I'm sorry," I told her. "It makes Momma feel sick too. I will try better."

"I know," she said. "You're always very good at being better."

I'm not perfect. I don't do things half as perfectly as I wish to, yet somehow this awesome kid still has a lot of trust and faith in me.

I mess up. I do things wrong. But I acknowledge it. I admit it to my kids.

I laughed to J that if nothing else our kids will grow up and say, "My mom sure did know how to apologize when it was called for."

So yeah, yelling sucks. It makes you feel sick. It's counter-productive and terrifying for a kid.

So I'll go back to swallowing it down, because its better for everyone.

First world problems gotta go

Sometimes I think it is overly easy to take things for granted. Especially our "first world problems."

You hear about them all the time. Which coffee should I buy today from Starbucks? I couldn't afford the 20k car, so had to settle for the 15k car. They were out of my favorite cereal at the grocery store. They cut my hair too short, etc., etc. The list goes on and on. All those "problems" that are never thought twice about in third world countries because they don't exist. Survival is all that is thought too much about.

Lately I've been over-stressing about a lot of first world problems. Things I need to let go. Just this morning I was wondering how I was going to fill our kiddos Easter Baskets thanks to this awesome furlough (I hope you can read this sarcasm). Which is a ridiculous worry - all ready I have books and a few small things for them. They won't know they difference, nor care. It's more for me. I want everything for them to be big and awesome and magical and spectacular.

But while brushing kids' teeth as they danced around in tutus and listened to Pandora an ad came on through Pandora talking about buying Easter candy and go ahead and buy some for yourself, no one will mind. And all I could think about was all the people in third world countries who don't even know what candy is or tastes like, let alone get Easter baskets filled with goodies, as well as Christmas, Valentine's, and Birthday presents. They don't go trick or treating. They don't even have clean water for Christ's sakes, which is an actual issue, as opposed to celebrating holidays.

Yet here I am, worrying about first world problems. Silly, silly me.

So here's to worrying less about first world problems, and being ever so grateful that I don't have third world problems to deal with.

Blessed we are.

Bet I can make you smile!

H: Mommy. Mommy, watch this!

Me: What is it?

H: Watch. (Turns to B). B, sit. Sit right down on your pompis.

B sits.

H: Did you see that, Momma?! He sits on command!

A Minnesota Adventure

At this point, the babes and I are pretty used to J being gone for a week or more while we're at home. But last week we changed the tables up on him while the kiddos and I took off to Minnesota and he stayed home.

I thought that being some place "new and fun" and being busy would make things easier than when we're home and he's gone.

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

The kids and I had fun, of course. We were visiting my dad and step-mom. H and B got to hit up an aquarium, the zoo, Rainforest Cafe (where I conned them into singing Happy Birthday to H, which she thought was amazing), and the Mall of America where they rode rides until their hearts were content.

Of course, I had to listen to them tell me the rides weren't fast enough or high enough most of the time. But that's what happens when you're toddlers, kiddos! And there I was, feeling like the kiddie rides had gotten way more aggressive since my time.

H also had the joy of going to the American Girl store where Grandpa S bought her Bitty Twins for her birthday, which she promptly named Sofia and Diego (2 guesses where those names came from...). Momma bought her some outfits and a double stroller for her babies, but those aren't coming out until her birthday.

We spent one day with a friend, who H cannot stop talk about her baby and her dogs. The whole drive home my little chatterbox was telling me, "Wasn't O just so cute? He really liked me, Momma! Did you see him give me hugs?" And then she'd tell me how she just needed a great big dog like their St. Bernard's. Thanks...

When we spent the night with my older sister M, H was very delighted to eat her first fruit roll-up (extra points for M for being cognisant of H's allergy!). But even better than that, H and B had popsicles! And other than ones we've made, I don't *think* they've ever had popsicles before. Though they might have and I'm simply blocking that out. Regardless, H thought they were the best things ever.

At one point while at M's house I asked H if she needed to go potty, to which she replied, "No, I'm just farting," and gave us a little wink.

Great.

H developed some weird eye tick that I 100% believe came about from the ridiculous amount of TV watching she partook in. Since we've been home it hasn't made it's existence known, so I know it was something weird, and not permanent.

The kids were stellar in the car, which was fortunate for me because 12 hours in the car with miserable kids would have made for a miserable momma. The power of new movies, I guess.

But they missed their papa. The whole time. And I missed my husband. And things were "off" a bit because he wasn't there and we didn't have our typical schedule going on. But it was necessary as he was taking care of lead things and obviously there isn't anything we wouldn't do for B's (or H's) health. So much so that we're home for two weeks and get to turn around and the kids and I are off again so J can work on more stuff!

At least for the kids it is always an adventure.

I Believe

I believe each breath we take is a beautiful and divine gift.

I believe an involved parent can facilitate a child's education better than any school.

I believe in doing my own research and forming my own conclusions rather than deferring to an accepted authority.

I believe that your education is invaluable, but a diploma does not always equal an education.

I believe peaceful, non-violent interactions are the most moral way for humans to conduct their affairs.

I believe a world with minimal government interference would be more peaceful.

I believe in God, even though the details are blurry for me.
 
I believe children should be treated with the utmost respect.

I believe that self-ownership is the very foundation of freedom.
 
I believe that all human beings, most especially children, are intrinsically good and well-intentioned.

I believe babies have a right to keep their whole body.

I believe it is our duty to ourselves, our children, and our society to make informed decisions instead of willfully ignorant ones.

I believe that your beliefs and opinions should be challenged regularly.

I believe it is my obligation as a human being to try my level best to adhere to the Non-Aggression Principle.

I believe no human being, especially an infant or child, can be spoiled with too much love.

I believe each person has a purpose on this earth.

I believe no one is perfect, and to try is simply fruitless and silly.

I believe everyone needs help at some point, in one way or another.

I believe no one knows what is best for themselves, except for themselves.

I believe you are responsible for no ones happiness but your own, and thus you are the only one responsible for your happiness.

I believe in love.

I believe love can heal and conquer all things.

I believe everyone is entitled to a loving and healthy family.

I believe everyone should eat chocolate daily.
 

Nursing a pig

H cracks me up. She heard me lamenting this morning how Duckie isn't as efficient with his bottle anymore, but also not eating solid food at all and I just wished he could nurse his momma so I knew he was getting enough to eat.

Well, 2 hours later H is on the couch, shirt up, and Duckie is playing in her belly.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I tried to nurse him but he said no."

Well, kudos to her for caring about the pig and trying to help.

How H knocked the wind out of me and helped me accept (the lack of) sleep.

A few days ago, while in the middle of what I'd begun to call the Bedtime Battle with H, she said something that changed everything. Her words were pure, brutally honest, and painfully sharp.

By the end of the day, typically without naps, without even a 30 second moment to myself, I just want my kids in bed. I won't lie. I'm, tired, exhausted, and just want them out of my hair so I can be a mindless zombie who doesn't respond to mommy for an hour (two hours if its a good night and they sleep a tad better).

She's almost 3. You'd think she'd just go to sleep by now. That she wouldn't wake up a million times in the middle of the night. That she'd just be quiet and go to sleep all ready.

Of course, I've never had these expectations with B. He's 18 months old and we've only just begun putting him in his own bed for the first few hours of bedtime. It was a slow transition, but I can just sit by him and sometimes hold his hand and he falls asleep.

Although we co-slept with H well past 18 months - she still ends up in bed with us for the majority of the night - I fought it most of the way. I didn't embrace it as happily and easily as I did with B. I'm sure there are a lot of reasons for it and someone could have a field day psychoanalyzing that situation, but it was what it was.

She's so much like J in that she needs very little sleep. But not me. I need lots of sleep. I need good sleep.

But that's not possible with two kids. J wants to help at night. He tries to help. But it makes it worse because my kids only want momma when they're tired so if J shows up we get meltdowns in epic proportions that take significantly longer to curb and ease them back into sleep.

Needless to say, when it comes to sleep, I'm exasperated by the time nighttime rolls around. I'm stern and cross and demanding. I expected them to immediately be quiet and go to sleep. In retrospect, that was a completely asinine expectation.

So the other day, while I sat next to B's bed and H wailed from hers, I whispered crossly, "Shush! Please go to sleep all ready."

And she cried, "Momma, won't you help me fall asleep? Don't you want to help me, please? I just need you."

If I hadn't been afraid that my immediate sobs would have put both babes in a more alert state, I'd have lost it.

The wind was knocked out of me, my stomach felt raw and sore, my heart ached.

She's almost 3. She can articulate her wants and needs much better than most 5 or 6 year olds.

She couldn't as a baby though. As a young toddler.

Here I was, willing her to sleep because I thought she should magically enter slumberland because I told her to do so. All she was doing this whole time was asking for my help. Telling me she needed me.

And I'd been pushing her away.

I curled up next to her, I played with her hair, and I told her I'd love her forever, my perfect Wilde Thing.

I kissed her head until she fell asleep on my chest. I didn't think about "Bones" playing on TV and how much of the episode I'd missed (no DVR in this house). I didn't think of the laundry I still needed to fold or the kitchen I needed to clean. I didn't think of the husband I always feel like I'm neglecting although he always assures me our kiddos come first and we're okay. I didn't have that mild panicky feeling that B might wake at the creak of the bed and this whole routine would have to be done again.

I just thought of my sweet girl and how much easier all those nights could have been if I'd have just given in. If I'd just held her tighter. Held her longer. If I would have put her needs before my own selfish wants.

I've done a lot of damage there. I know it. I can't go back and change the last 3 years of terrible bedtimes. I'm thankful that I've otherwise been a very attached parent. She's independent and secure. She has that healthy dose of seperation anxiety, but is totally happy and content when I'm gone as well. She has all the good, healthy attributes of a well-rounded child who was attach parented.

But it's still there. Right below the surface. A little girl whose needs were ignored out if convenience at times. A little girl with a momma whose patience just wasn't quite enough. A little girl expected to be so grown up before her time.

It breaks my heart. That I wasn't better. For her. I thought because I didn't leave her alone to cry my behaviors toward her were okay. But they weren't.

I will cuddle her to sleep each night until she's 40 if that's what she needs. Though I've been assured it isn't. Even if my mind starts racing and I'm annoyed 40 minutes has gone by and although she's tired and yawning she's showing no signs of succumbing to sleep, I will not show her my annoyance. Instead I will cuddle her more and tell her what an absolute joy she is to me. Because she is.

Always.

I think night time parenting in a lot of ways is far more difficult than daytime parenting. You're tired. Semi-conscious. Not completely coherent. It's just really hard.

And yet it's still so important.

From me to you, friend, when your little one, whether she is one year or ten years, needs you at night for whatever reason, go to her. Help her. Cuddle her. Love on her.some day she will be big and such things won't be needed.

But I promise you, never will you regret showing your child love and kindness. Never will you regret cuddling them and breathing in their sleepy goodness.

But you might regret ignoring them. Having the ability to meet their needs but choosing not to, simply because you think your sleep is more important than your child. Your want outweighs your child's needs.

Take it from me, you can't go back. So cuddle them and love them.

Because whether your child can articulate it or not, whether they choose to say the words to you or not, all they're saying when they're struggling to go to bed is, "Momma, won't you help me fall asleep? Don't you want to help me, please? I just need you."

And I know I always want my answer to be yes.

Yes, my Wilde Thing, my sweet H, I want to help you. I want to be there for you always.