The Year Santa Had to Bribe Our Kids to Talk to Him...

... with raisins. Their favorites.

Oooooh. Raisins.

But they had their caution meters up, probably not as high as they would go, but high enough that we had some laughs at the looks they gave him.

Nope.

I guess I will be able to put off that talk about taking candy/treats from "strangers.

So Santa's wife showed them how to do it... She asked for some pretty good stuff too (new camera, new computer... you know, the basics and necessities.)

Uh, Grandpa? Need me to help you in the yard with anything? I'm not busy.

Yard looks pretty good, Grandpa, but maybe we should do some work... ya know, until Mom puts the camera down and stops asking me to talk to Santa.

"Who is this guy again? Daddy's lap is just fine."

Still nervous even though Mamie offered some moral support.

"I want a race car."

"Can I go now?"

Grandpa became the "safe zone."

 

Our kids are very lucky to have Santa in the family. Maybe next year they'll be more welcoming when he comes to Mamie and Grandpa's house.

But then the kids played with Robin and Chris, and Claire did some serious baking with Mamie....

... and after Santa left, Adam kept asking when he was coming back. "Can Santa come back? Where did Santa go? Where's Santa now?"

We had planned to go look at Christmas lights on the way home, but they were so worn out that they looked at the 12 Days of Christmas with glazed eyes and then passed out after the one street.

To Colin and Claire's credit, they were in the beginning stages of getting sick with what we later found out is a nasty combination of RSV and Strep. When I called the doctor's office to make the appointment on Monday morning, they asked me what their symptoms were. I kinda chuckled and said, "well, it looks like RSV to me." When we got there, they immediately ran an RSV test at our pediatrician's request since I'm usually pretty accurate by now. When the test came back positive, she walked in saying, "Well, Doctor Mommy really knows RSV when she sees it."

We also agreed that Claire seemed happier despite being just as sick, and I told her I had initially suspected Colin had strep. Since Claire is already on antibiotics for a previously existing cold, that would make sense. She said she thought the same thing, and ran the strep test on Colin, which also came back positive. Poor babies feel AWFUL, but there's still hope that they'll overcome it in time for Christmas morning, after lots and lots of naps, cuddles, advil and breathing treatments.

While Colin and Shannon took a nap. Claire fell asleep leaning up against me. Adam was hungry, so I asked him to help while I made him a snack. (This is the sweetest of the pictures... In the others he's poking her cheeks, stroking her face and trying to pry her eyes open. She didn't move.)

Sweet big brother.

Claire asked for some milk, so I opened the refrigerator door. She grabbed Colin's bottle of milk and brought it right to him, then told him something in the language only they understand. Then she came back for more milk, and she grabbed her cup. She went back to Colin, sat next to him, and gave him her milk too.

Encouraging the Unstoppable

Adam is 3 and a half... Colin and Claire are just barely 18 months. 

Instead of a throw pillow, there's a Hello Kitty on our recliner watching the dark fireplace. I walked by it the other night, and I didn't think, "oh how silly that my throw pillows aren't there anymore." Let's not kid ourselves, there were never any real throw pillows there (There was one I liked, that Shannon never liked, so I'm not sure where that one is anymore anyway.)

My house was never clean before I had kids, nor did I wear make up or do fun, important, meaningful activities. That really only started happening when I had kids. (And when I say "house is clean" I mean the 10 minutes after I accomplish it while they are still at school and after I'm too bored with anything else that I pick them up and bring them home to destroy it). And let's be really, REALLY honest.... it wasn't even that "clean" in those ten minutes.

The pictures in this post don't represent my life, or even one evening of our lives. They represent 10 minutes of an evening in December in Texas where it was "outside weather" again, and I uttered a few syllables after getting everyone home from work/school as they crawled out of the car... "Do you want to play on the trampoline?"

I barely heard my three-year old say "Yes!" as he ran in that direction and his 18 month old younger siblings ran after him. I did not have to open any doors on the way, as he was waiting at each entrance, holding the doors open for the twins to pass through. I took his place, and rushed them all out the door. I gave warnings about the dog crap that was scattered throughout the yard, telling them to look out and not touch, and not having to stop any of them from attempting anyway.

As my oldest jumped on the trampoline, I stuffed the shorter two in the netted cage of fun as they eagerly tried to climb up and then I zipped them in, thinking, am I too reckless with my babies?

And then I watched them play. Easily, happily, unafraid of each other, because they had never been taught to be. I rarely leave my children alone but even when I am there I give them the benefit of the doubt that they can TRY to make the right choice.

"Put that in the trash, not in your mouth..."
"Your sister is making it clear she doesn't like that, so stop sitting on her."
"You are not allowed to hit your brother, no matter how mad I make you."

They argue, they wrestle, they hit and they fight... and I break it up when the laughter stops. But I don't assume that they are incapable of understanding their world. I assume first that they get it, and if they don't, I step in and correct. As it turns out, I'm not the common parent. I am underprotective. I laugh when they fall, unless it's really bad. When they cry for melodramatic reasons, I take a picture. When they are mad, I hug them and chuckle and try to show them how to laugh it off. I encourage them to challenge themselves starting from ... birth.

If you watch my kids in any normal circumstances, they love each other. They are below the age of 4 (two of them below the age of 2), and they look out for each other. When they fall they get up and say "don't worry, I'm fine." or they get mad, and I give a hug and tell them how frustrating it must have been. They don't tattle unless they really think it's dangerous, and if they fight, it's at the end of the day and they just want to play with their own damn toy for once without anyone harassing them about it. But don't we all, even as adults, feel that way?

I am not a perfect parent and I'm not advertising myself as such. But I have noticed that I am different. My kids are different. Not better and definitely not worse, but different.

This is what I let my kids do on their "own." Colin and Claire can't jump yet. It's not that they don't have the strength to jump on the trampoline... they don't know how to jump at all. They try on sturdy ground... they stand on their tiptoes really hard and then fall on their butts and stand up and try again, always grinning at how well they are doing... but I don't question the idea that they can try. On the trampoline their heads bounce around while they laugh and try to keep up and their confidence sours while my parent alert signals go off inside my head. But I let it go until it's clear they are stuck, scared, hurt or have no way out.

They'll survive being tossed around a tiny bit by their three year old brother who matches the size and weight of most 5 year olds, because he loves them and sees their tiny fingers underneath his shoes and knows how not to hurt them. If he accidentally makes a wrong step, they'll learn how to either express their feelings or shake it off. They'll be challenged until it's clear they need a break or a hero to swoop in and and save them. Half the time, when I save them, they have already shaken it off and are desperate to go back in and save face. I, personally, did not teach them that. They already had that in them and I just let them keep it.

There is lobbying to "kill Supermom." I could never bake a perfect cookie. My house has always looked unkept. My hair has never been perfectly done and my friends have never though I would show up "all the time." Who is Supermom? And how did she have the time to have kids?





When they cry in fear because they spilled milk on the couch, I think, Don't waste your tears on this when there is much more that matters.

I have asked myself many questions and have come up with shaky answers... "Am I doing enough for them? Am I doing what's right for them? Do I push them too hard? Do I show up when I am supposed to show up? Am I teaching them manners?"

And usually, I am able to laugh at myself and move forward while in the back of my mind think, No, really? Where's the line?

And when they laugh, a lot, I try to correct myself. I try to pay attention when they go out of their way to look out for each other because they see me and my husband as role models. They hug me and kiss me and when they see me they know exactly who I am and what I'm there to do. So for maybe a few minutes or for the rest of the day, I give myself a break.

To be honest, there are a few random times I regret not being the parent who was able to soak up every last hug and kiss before they were able to crawl away. There are times I wish I hadn't encouraged them to crawl or to walk so quickly. Where I wish they didn't push me away when I just wanted to snuggle with them. But as they get older, I see them look at me with pride when they do something amazing... Like, Mom will think I'm great. And I do. And when they want that celebratory hug, I'm always standing right there with my arms wide open, even if they fake me out and run the other way.

And when they fall and scrape their chin, I'm the first person they run to and the only one who's allowed to fix it. So have at it, kids. Learn your boundaries, learn how to trust each other, and mostly, be confident right from the beginning, because clearly you're unstoppable.

And know that I'm always going to be standing right here with my arms wide open, hoping you keep running to me for hugs of congratulations.

Christmas in East Texas

Last Sunday we made a last minute decision to make the trip to East Texas to see Papa and Shane while Aunt Brandi, Angel, Krysta, and Caden were going to be in town. I believe this is the first trip we have taken with all three kids since last November... but while everyone says it gets easier as they get older, we all tend to forget that crazy window between age 1 and 2 where everything is a fight to get everyone out the door... into their car seats... fed, changed, happy, and "between" naptimes.

We had a great time and the kids got to play with a lot of other kids their age. But in the beginning, the trampoline was the biggest hit (especially for Claire), the broom Colin found was a the best toy ever, and Adam was introduced to a real skateboard (much to my dismay, although he is a very analytical thinker and has grown into a very cautious person so he didn't do any damage).

Adam being... independent?

After the party we "wound down" at Papa and Shane's house for time with cousins. I really wish we could do this more often with "just" the six of them. Angel, Krysta, and Caden are so sweet. (Adam was not in picture taking mode as he had been bumped into warp-drive.)

Caden's frog, "Batman," eats real crickets. My kids were enthralled watching Aunt Brandi, Papa and Jacob know what to do.

At first I thought Adam's sensitivities would make him hold back... he did at first, but only to see just exactly how cool it was and how to do it exactly. Claire and Colin watched every move also.