accommodate

1 : to make fit, suitable, or congruous
2 : to bring into agreement or concord : reconcile
3 : to provide with something desired, needed, or suited (as a helpful service, a loan, or lodgings)
4 a : to make room for b : to hold without crowding or inconvenience
5 : to give consideration to : allow for

definition courtesy of merriam-webster

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there is a brief moment between falling out of sunday and jumping in to yet another busy week during which i actually breathe. then monday morning rushes at me and i don't feel like the world stops spinning again until that quiet moment sunday morning (or afternoon, as the case may be) after i slide across the back-row bench at church and breathe again.

during that moment just last night that now somehow seems like ages ago, i stopped to contemplate how i was going to

get to the gym (6:00)

come home (7:30)

shower and get ready for work

help k~ get ready

(will there be time for breakfast somewhere in there?)

run zack up to a drumline event at byu (8:30)

go to work early (9:00)

leave work on time (2:30) because i will only have one hour to get to the grocery store and pick up ingredients for chili, run home and defrost the sausage, wash out the crockpot still soaking from yesterday's knock-off cafe rio, brown the meat and toss in all the rest of the ingredients (which are no longer written down, so they may vary from time to time) and then

pick up k~ from school (3:30)

before leaving for suzie's softball game (4:00)

***********

they started the game early, which meant i missed her first hit (a double) as member of the phs softball team.

sigh

but i sat on the cold hard ground (didn't realize there was a shocking lack of bleacher space at the high school ball field) and cheered.

because that's what moms do.

i ran home in between games intending to change out of my work clothes and into something warmer and to drop off some chili to my friend jane who just had foot surgery, as i had promised to bring her some dinner.

got a call from suze, who is required to stay until all the games are played. she was not, after all, going to be playing in the next game (which meant i didn't have to go back). but she was hungry. i told her i'd send over a cup of chili. she didn't want chili. she wanted take-out. (can you hear the echo of the minced-fish girl in your head as i write this?)

and this is where all the accommodating came screeching to a halt.

she wanted take-out?

and after all i had packed into that day, in part, in a deliberate effort to avoid fast food.

not to mention my having created an awesome batch of homemade that's-homemade-from-scratch...so-scratch-there-is-no-real-recipe chili.

"no," i said.

i refuse.

i. will. not...spend good money (even off the dollar menu--it's still good money) for bad take-out that is, at least for tonight, so completely unnecessary.

i handed the phone to my husband and walked out the front door. i walked to jane's, cradling a piping hot quart jar of chili in my pocket with one hand and carrying fresh french bread and lindt chocolate in the other, because i'd lent my car (which happens to be the only one of our four vehicles that is running properly at the moment) to zack, who was trying to find someone who could pull off the mouthpiece from k~'s trumpet because it needs to be fixed before his concert on thursday.

later, after the game was over, and suze had devoured a nice hot bowl of homemade chili, i went back out into the cold to big 5 because there is another game tomorrow (and the next day, and the next, and a tournament this weekend) and the coach says they have to have a second pair of sliders. this one black. because while the white ones are fine under their white pants, they must have black ones for under their black shorts.

oh, and she needed new cleats.

she paid for half of her new cleats (which were not name brand and which were on sale) with her own money. she did this willingly. and said "thank you."

and i bought myself a swim cap.

because i needed one.

on braids and body image

this is--after a fashion--my homework.

disclaimer: i do know how to french braid. it's just that having two boys first didn't give me much practice to prepare for a girl who can't sit still long enough for me to get it right. i could do it with practice. really, i could.

14-year-old daughter, looking at her funky not-a-french-braid: too bad someone around here doesn't know how to french braid!


*****


14-year-old daughter: don't you think my hair looks cute like this?

me: yes. but i think you look cute no matter how your hair is.

14-year-old daughter: i know.

i raise my eyebrow...

14-year-old daughter, looking right at me: but aren't you glad i'm not one of those "no i don't. these make me look fat. i'm not pretty..." kind of girls?

me: you got that right!



maybe she would have come out that way anyway. but maybe my making it a point not to disparage myself--my body--out loud helps her a little. i hope so. it would kind of make up for that not being able to french braid thing.

Mommy High and Low, All In One Outing

I had the opportunity to run some errands yesterday with only my 5 year old daughter in tow. (Any time spent running errands with less than the usual amount of tag-a-longs is a little manna from heaven, no?) First on the list was to do some schoolbook hunting at a local used book store.

Book store browsing with kid(s) has not gone well in the past. At least not the way I like to book store browse. Typical book store trips with the kid(s) had not involved much browsing. Mostly quick scanning. Lot's of kid chasing. On a good trip, reading 20 million children's books.

This trip was different. It was a first. We leisurely browsed, yes BROWSED, the book store for nearly 2 hours!!! The two of us!!! Did I mention that we BROWSED??? LEISURELY???!!! Took our time. Picked through all the shelves that interested us. Flipped through pages. Read short stories. Sat side by side just doing our thing. She had a little pile going. I had a little pile going. Occasionally, one of us would lift a brow and share a little tidbit from whatever had caught our fascination at the moment. It was heaven!!!!!

It took an observation of a mother who wandered back to our section with her son, probably a year younger than my daughter, for me to truly appreciate my blissed out moment. She tried to sift through the unorganized book shelves while distractedly calling after her son. She tried to search for treasures amid the overstuffed rows, but really, I know she was scanning the same shelf over and over each time she came back from pulling her kid off of the nearby ladder. This poor, exasperated mother sat her son down with a book probably a half dozen times. He wouldn't fall for it unless she promised to stop "browsing" and read to him. It was during this little lad's third trip around the book store, mom close behind, that I glanced down at my precious 5 year old. I couldn't help but throw my arms around her and whisper "I love you" in her ear. We had reached a milestone. One I have been looking forward to for a long time.

I practically bounced out of the store with my little one in tow. I was on a mommy HIGH. I was already planning a forecast of new outings with my newfound book store buddy!





Oh yes, we had one more errand to attend to on this outing. A stop at the "Only 99 Cents" store. First this, than that. Just two more items. Ok, let's head to the checkout. And that is when my mommy high dropped to a sinking low. Plummeted, rather.

"Ewww! Why does that man's skin look so weird?" my 5 year old points to the man approaching our line (You know, to make sure we all see exactly who the rude comment is directed at). I thought we were PAST that stage! I answer some plain spoken possibilities ending with an "I don't know, but let's remember to be kind."

No, that answer would not suffice. My daughters questions would not remain innocuous, either. They took an offensive, embarrassing turn for the worse that left me scrambling for distractions and red-facedly rushing to get OUT of the store and IN to the car. The whole way, thinking to myself, "She KNOWS better! Where did she come UP with that stuff?? Have I not taught her correctly?" Finally, "Why didn't I handle that better??"

I always thought I'd apologize in those situations. Thought my child would be "well-mannered, loving and polite" during public outings by this stage. ;-) Well, at least more loving. Or that I'd at least handle an occasional, innocent flub with more decorum and loving politeness than I actually did. (Neck sweating, face blushing, avoiding eye contact and refusing to turn around and face the man, let alone apologize, was not exactly the best response, huh?)

All of this, to remind me that I am just a mom. Not "just a mom" as in, "nothing more" than a mom. (I'm really not sure what THAT means, anyhow. But that is a WHOLE different story.) No, I am just a mom. My role as mom is teacher. Nurturer. Caretaker. I am there to love. It is so simple. As much as I want to take credit for the "highs" and hang my head in shame over the "lows", I cannot. I am no more of a good mommy, than I am a bad mommy. I am simply, "Mommy".



P.S. The car ride home provided a valuable teaching opportunity. *wink*wink*

Got Milk?

Lactation may prove lucrative...? At least in the Switzerland. Check it out.

I still got it...

I dropped Oldest off at driver's ed this morning.
He leaned over and gave me a sqeeze and said, "I love you, mom!"
And then...

He kissed me on my cheek!

He's very affectionate but hasn't been into kissing his mom for quite a while now.
And, if you knew how much we've been on each others nerves lately, you'd know why it meant so much to me.

I love that I'm still his Queen Mum.

I'm doing it wrong

Last night I came home from ward temple night and then had to go run a couple of errands and do my grocery shopping. Which meant it was after 10 p.m. when I got home and found my nine-year-old just starting his homework and my 13-year-old yet to start. Argh! I felt like one of those people at Wal-Mart who take their kids shopping after 11 p.m. and then are cross with them because they're misbehaving.

Obviously that's much too late for a nine-year-old (even the youngest child nine-year-old who is used to later nights) so he was cranky and then I got cranky. I was frustrated with him for not doing it earlier (but also frustrated with myself for not being home to encourage him) and frustrated with my daughter for not doing hers earlier and just frustrated overall that my life doesn't run as smoothly as the freaking Brady Bunch show.

So I declared martial law and ranted and raved a bit--I'll say this for myself, there was no actual yelling, but what good did that do when yelling was perceived--and then things got worse.

Does this sound familiar? "Why should I even try when I'm going to get yelled out anyway?!"

I have to admit that despite the phone calls from the Foods teacher that L~ is being disruptive (to be fair, she called almost every parent in the class because the whole class is disruptive, but I know L~ and am sure she is one of the leaders of the band), L~ has been doing a much better job this year. While I still have issues with her (namely her attitude and her occasional bold-faced lies), I recognize she is making an effort. While having a 4.0 just two and a half weeks into the school year isn't a big deal for some, it certainly is for her. And, having been 13 before, I realized immediately I made a big mistake getting after her for something she was really doing well.

Huge mistake.

What did I do about it? I apologized. And I told her she was doing a good job.

Let's just say she did not accept it gracefully.

This morning when she got up she was a little more cheerful (mornings are another thing she has been doing better). I told her, "When I was your age I would have given the world to hear my parents apologize to me when they were wrong. And they were wrong sometimes. And sometimes so am I. I am proud of you, but I do make mistakes. And when I do I will apologize. You need to learn to accept an apology more graciously."

I don't know if she really got it, but it needed to be said.

It also needs to be said that kids do need to be caught doing good. Especially teenage kids. Sometimes you have to look a little harder to see the good, but they need to hear about it when you notice it.

I'm going to work harder to see and acknowledge the good.

It's all About the Spin

Some would say I am a Bad Mommy for putting my kid to bed at 6:45 tonight, even though she probably was not all that tired.

I say that I am a Good Mommy because I understand my limits, and the ratio of toddler-to-sanity was skewing in a scary way.

What do you spin in order to get away with?

My own version of good, better, best:

Good or good enough.


Your thoughts, please.

Move over, Brit

Today I noticed that, overnight, Jooj had grown out of her pajama top, rendering it a half-shirt worthy of a guest appearance on TeenNick.

I think that her growth spurt is because I feed her so well. Take this morning:

What do you want for breakfast?

"Candy and peas."

Well, Okay. If you sit on the potty.

"And Pink soda."

Fine.

You can't push against something that's not there

Sometimes I worry I'm way too serious for this forum. So feel free to vote me off the island if you need to.

This morning I've been feeling like crappy mom and crappy person. So I call one of my best friends, Melody, because she gets me and she loves me even with my flaws. She is bound to have something to say to lift my spirits.

Long story short, just one of the things I was beating myself up about was my relationship with my daughter. It does not matter how much I do for her or how I try to show my love for her, it is never ever enough (ironically, I can just hear those words coming from my own mother's heart about me some 30 years ago). L~ will always see what I do for or how I treat the other kids and magnify it while turning a blind eye to the ways I express my love for her. She refuses hugs and pushes me away at every turn.

In any case, Melody was talking about how I express my love for my kids and how they know how much I love them. I rebutted "...except for L~." Melody then wisely pointed out that L~ would not feel the need to push back my love so hard if she did not feel it coming toward her. I never thought about it that way. For whatever reason she tries to resist, L~ knows I love her, even when the two of us are driving each other the craziest.

So I just wanted to put that out there, for future reference if you need it. That the love you give seeps in one way or the other, no matter how the relationship with whatever particular child is going at the moment.

Maybe that's part of what being a good mommy is all about.

95% grody, 50% boring, 80% patience and 100% inspiration

Yes, I know, motherhood is nobility. It is a higher calling. It places a woman closer to God. But the expression of these ideas only comes about 5% of the time. The remainder of the job is filled with things that a noble would never do.

Like changing stinky pants.

And waking up to the phrase "Mami! Mocos en mi nose! Wipeee!"

95% of our existence is grody.
And mundane.
And seemingly futile.

So today let's talk about the little things that go along with motherhood. What is your favorite part of the daily grind? Not the heartwarming moments, not the part that makes you say "Yes! I am doing it!" The parts that don't even register most days.

For me, it is nail trimming. I love trimming the little nails. (Even though I have to do it every few days because I keep feeding the Jooj, so she keeps growing.)

I love to clip her nails because when we brought our daughter home (well, to ~J's house, so my home away from home) I felt confident that I would be able to do all of the things required to keep her alive and ticking. Except for trimming the nails. All I knew was that everyone told me about how scary and tricky it was, and that I would eventually make my darling bundle bleed from her tiny fingers. I asked everyone to show me how to do it, but the timing was never there. So, at the point of Jooj turning into Howard Hughes, I geared up, read the book, and took a breath. And I did it. No blood! And it was the biggest affirmation for me--I could do this, the mothering thing, on my own. And I remember that every single time we do the mani/pedi shuffle.

Week in Review

I just noticed a good mommy being too hard on herself, so I decided it was time to get real about the kind of mommy I was this past week:

Signs I have been a bad Mommy this week:

I just noticed a plate from Sunday dinner at the bottom of the stack of dishes I'm finally getting a chance to finish up.

There are also, on my table, paper bags and disposable cups from both Wendy's and McDonald's. Not only that: After I picked up McDonald's for the two little ones last night Melody and I got take-out salads and hazelnut 12-grain bread from Kneaders and ate them ourselves.

I did not have a night home the entire past week. Until last night. When I finally picked up my kids at nine and took them over to Melody's to eat on her front lawn. We got home home at quarter to ten.

My children have no clean clothes. (Except for the boys, who do their own laundry. The fact that they do their own laundry should go under the good mommy category.)

There have been times this week when I didn't know where my children were. I had a good idea what friends they were with and of course they were fine, but I honestly didn't know.


Signs I have been a good Mommy this week:

When my daughter got mad at me (because I am trying to teach her she cannot take other people's things--her brother's longboard--without asking) and ran away to the stripper's ex-family again I followed her and brought her home. Even though that was the hard thing to do and I often think she'd be better off with someone else anyway (just not that someone else).

When my daughter screamed at me that she hadn't left her flip-flops at a friend's house because she hasn't done that for 4 billion years and then not five minutes later asked me to drive her to her friend's house so she could get her flip-flops I did not slap her. In fact I didn't even want to slap her. Without yelling myself I calmly told her she owed me a HUGE apology and said that whether or not she chose to give it she still knew she was out of line and being completely unfair. And I actually meant it when I told her I loved her as she got out of the car when I dropped her off at school after she had made us both late.

I managed to attend two more concerts on the the third week in the first half of May in which my presence was required at Provo High on consecutive nights. And I enjoyed them without thinking too much about Sunday's dishes still on the table. I also managed to make it to as many softball games each week and cheer on a daughter who loathes me. (Not to mention sit through some patheticly sorry softball).

I paid $25 of my own money to protect my son from buying a car that although it appeared to be a sweet deal would really have been more of a liability than an asset. I am still trying to believe him when he told me he wasn't disappointed.

It's 9:30 Saturday morning and although I have been invited to a Pampered Chef party I'd like to attend (and after which I really wanted to go visit b.) I am going to stay home and try to put some of the pieces of my crazy busy life back together. Not so much for me, but for my kids who deserve a little sanity as they enter the last week of school and get ready for "summer vacation." (Even though a good part of the insanity around here is a direct result of my trying to be everywhere and everything for them.)