Wishful Thinking

Kynnadi got her shirt wet just as I was making breakfast. We grabbed my shirt out of the dryer and put it on her. She was so excited to be donning a woman’s shirt.
“Now I’m going to have big boobs!” She said.
Um, yeah, sweets, that’s not how it works. Not even for me.

My Mirror;My Child

Kynnadi grabs her little purse and stuffs it with play money. “When I say ‘Action,'” she says, “you ask me, “Can I have this?’ Okay, action!”
I play along. “Can I have this?”
Her response comes quickly: “No, I don’t have enough money!”
Oh, I guess we’re role-reversing. Hahaha

Mean Mom

 

 

“Xavier, take your dishes to the kitchen.”
“Xavier, take your dishes to the kitchen.”
“Xavier, take your dishes to the kitchen.”
“Xavier, take your dishes to the kitchen.”
“Xavier, take your dishes to the kitchen.”
“Xavier, take your dishes to the kitchen.”
“Xavier, take your dishes to the kitchen.”
“XAVIER!!! TAKE YOUR DISHES TO THE KITCHEN!!!”

Xavier: “Why do you always yell at me?!”

The Feather

You saw a feather light atop
my mound of grief and pain
You saw me finally fall apart and
not get up again
You chided me and told me
I should pull myself together
You didn’t see the rest of it
you only saw the feather.

The Meaning of Success?

Had a bunch of running around to do yesterday, with the anticipation of the last pool party for the season coming up in the evening. Looked at the time, running late. Panic mode. Went home, put my groceries away, packed the pool bag, got some food for Sadie and a fresh sippy cup.
Jumped in the car, took Natali home. Got to the pool. Unloaded all the stuff and the kids. Pushed the stroller into the bathroom with Kynnadi in tow. Sent X off to change. Struggled with little girls’ clothes and diaper, got them into suits.

Now it was my turn. Waited for someone to finish her shower so I could duck behind the curtain and still be able to keep tabs on the girls. Got into the shower area. Hung my bathing suit up on the rod. Bottoms fall, landing in shower water. Yuk. Pick pants up, wash in hot water. Got dressed.
Went out. Found chairs. Got all the towels out. Found sunscreen. Got us all slathered up.

Waded into the pool behind Kynnadi, who seemed unaware that the water had ice floating on top…well, ok. That’s an exaggeration. But, brrr. Sadie loved it. She started laughing, splashing, really enjoying herself.
Tried to keep track of all the kids, get snacks, help them get to games on time… started to get worn out. Dreamed of floating atop the water for a few, carefree moments. Got a grip.

Time for party in the parking lot. Got the kids dried and dressed.
“Kynnadi, do you have to go potty? Because they’re going to close the pool, and there will be NO bathroom to use after this.”
“No, I don’t need to go.”
“Are you SURE? Because there might be a porta-john, but those are nasty. I don’t want to use them. Why don’t you try to go?”
“NO! I don’t have to pee!”
“Ok, if you’re sure.”

Went out to the parking lot where inflatables were set up. There was a jousting area, obstacle course, and big bubble bath sort of thing.
Kynnadi got in line to do the jousting with a little girl about her size.
“I have to pee!” She said, crossing her legs. “I need to pee so bad!”
“What? I told you…” grrr and grrr and grrr. “Let’s go!” We ran to get to the potty in time. Opened the door, got inside. Began to put toilet paper on the seat, looked over, she was leaning on the urinal. As I pulled her away, I noticed her ponytail had been hanging inside it. Went over the the sprinklers they had set up to wash off bubbles and washed her the best we could. Gross.
I let them play a bit longer, but was wearing thin, so about an hour into it, I told them we had to go. Sadie had been fussy and I wanted to get her to bed. Desperately wanted to get Kynnnadi in the shower, and my belly was rumbling and grumbling for food.
On my way out, some kid was twirling a backpack around in the air and smacked me right in the face.
Got home, put Sadie to bed, got Kynnadi in the shower. Ah! Finally, I can get some food and sit.
Xavier started coughing and coughing and coughing and puking… Yeah. All over the bedroom floor. I cannot begin to claim I handled it well. That’s all I’m going to say about that.

Did the kids have a good time at the party, though? Yes. I guess that was the goal. Goal reached.

Be Still

All the worrying and stressing, all the tossing and turning…what did it improve? I kept searching God out…calling, crying, yelling, even CUSSING at him I was so broken, desperate, hopeless.
I kept hearing ONE message all along. “Be still, and know that I am God.” But I couldn’t figure out exactly what that meant, let alone how to DO it.
Yeah, those are “simple” words, but try putting them into practice when your world is on fire and the ground is opening up under your feet.
Be still. Stop fighting. Know God is for you. Know He LOVES you. Know there is a plan; a reason. Know that there are no dead ends, not even death itself.
Be still; let God fight for you. Allow him to do “immeasurably more than all you can ask or image.” Allow him to work everything out for your good.
Let your soul rest. Trust his wisdom and not your own. Trust his timing.
Seek first his kingdom and everything else will fall into place. Eventually.

That’s the hardest part. Enduring the time between the prayer and the answer; the problem and the resolution; the pain and the healing.
So in the mean, mean, terribly mean time, focus on the beauty in your life. Help others and take good care of yourself. Do what’s right in front of you. Don’t think too far ahead. Take hold of the joy of the Lord and keep going forward. Fulfill your purpose. Change is coming!

Paging Dan Hollister

Seriously, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve left Walmart or a restaurant in tears.  So frustrated that I cannot get “control” of this four-year-old melting down because she’s tired, she wants to run free, she wants candy…  Or the ten-year-old because his head is as hard as rock.  “How many times do I have to tell you…”    Blank stare in response.

Like today after being in the waiting area with Xavier while Kynnadi did speech therapy… Actually, no. He was pretty good. There was a hyperactive kid running around, jumping, talking three hundred miles an hour, but, this time, it wasn’t X.   Ok…so after therapy, Kynn comes out coughing, nose running, still smiling because kids are always good for everyone but the BOSS of them. It was cool till we got to the car, then she unleashed a fury unseen by us mere mortals until today.   For two blocks she chanted, “I want candy, I want candy, I want candy…”  I threatened, I bribed, I tried to change the subject, I made promises, I yelled at God, I pleaded with God, I felt my ulcer flaring up…   “I want candy, I want candy…”

We got home.  She yelled at Xavier. She told him to shut up! I said, “Kynnadi, you’re not being very nice today.”

At which point she shuddered, sobbed, and fell completely apart. Dabbing her red nose with a tissue, she said,  “I not feel well!”   Oh…yeah. I get it.  As a person who is chronically ill, I should know better. I see how grumpy, grouchy, and mean I can get when the pain wears me down.

So I offered her a place on the sofa, gave her a cool drink, covered her with her blankie, and kissed her on the forehead.   She’s so worth all the stress and tears and sideways glances from passersby.

And, there’s always the fact that, most of the time, these little ones keep me laughing.  They keep me young.

Here, let me give you one example from each child so you can get a little chuckle, too. Laughter is the best medicine, after all.

I saw a jet streaking across the sky. “There goes Ironman!” I said.
Xavier said, “Remember when I used to think that? ”
“Yeah.” (giggle giggle)
“Now I know it’s a spaceship!”
Glad we cleared that up.

At the pool, we heard an announcement over the speakers. “Dan Hollister to the front desk, please.”
Kynnadi wrinkled her nose and said, “That me. It the name I use when I a monkey.” giggle

But this morning when I said, “Paging Dan Hollister!”  She glared and snapped at me, “No! I not a monkey today! I not happy!”  Mama said there’d be days like this.

The Language of a Princess

Kynnadi, now four, is trying so hard to pronounce words correctly. One of the most difficult sounds for her to get is the letter F. So when she came to tell me that Obbie (the name she’s given my grandson, Xavier), burped in her “tace,” I corrected her. I exaggerated my top teeth going out to my bottom lip and said emphatically, “Face.”
So, she got her teeth to meet her lip and said, so proudly, “Fobbie furp fin fy face!”

Giggle.

We weren’t on the waiting list for speech therapy long, just enough to make me sweat about enrolling her in preschool for fall. Kids can be cruel.  Even if they aren’t, and just keep responding with, “Huh?!” when Kynnadi speaks, it embarrasses and frustrates her something awful.  She finally just shrugs, face fallen, and looks to me to interpret.

With one session under our belts, I feel confident that we’re heading in the right direction.  She strutted out afterward teeling tine. I mean, Fhe frutted fout fafterward feeling fine.

Don’t Grow Up Too Fast

     She’s getting too big for her blankies. Her ankles and sweet chubby feet hang out the bottom and she keeps struggling to cover her whole self for a nap. ugh. She’s teaching herself to swim. Preschool is upon us come fall.
Every day she insists, “I a big gull.” Is she?! She looks so little to me. Why don’t these kids listen when you tell them, “Don’t grow up too fast.” sigh