Monday

Jeff lost his voice at school today so he couldn't talk when he got home. So I was feeling exceptionally loquacious in my journal writing, and the more I wrote, the more I remembered about the day today. The more I remembered, the more I realized that today was a good sort of day: plenty of setbacks and challenges, but also a fair share of victories. 

Journal entry: Monday, October 16, 2017

This morning:

Me: "Jay, your hair is so soft and nice!" (I gave him a haircut yesterday)

Jay: "maybe I should stay home from school so you can look at it all day." 

That boy. After weeks of him moping and moaning that he doesn't feel good every morning before school, and asking if he could stay home from school, I talked to him about it last week. I told him logically that I couldn't keep him home every day, and part of life is doing things when we are a little tired or not feeling 100%. I asked him what he expected me to do when he told me he felt yucky every single day, and he didn't have an answer. I also told him that one way to get through things we aren't too excited about is to find one thing to look forward to, even if it's small. He must've thought all of that over, because ever since our talk last week, he has been cheerful and happy in the mornings. It is so refreshing to have a happy Jay before school! The first few days of his new morning cheer, he pointed out to me on the way to school: "Mommy, I didn't complain and try to get out of going to school!" Now he's starting to joke about silly reasons to stay home from school and I love it! It's amazing to watch Jay decide to change and try harder to be better. He is such a great guy! I want to follow his good example.

While I was reading my scriptures quietly in bed this morning, Rose's voice floated down the stairs at me saying "there's a hole in the milk jug!" Adios peaceful quiet scripture time! "PUT IT IN THE SINK!" I yelled up, and with a wistful look at my waiting clothes, I dashed upstairs in my pajamas to stem the dairy tide. When I arrived in the kitchen, the milk jug was oozing in the sink and sweet Jay was mopping up a lake of milk from the floor with a rag. He did a pretty good job while I hunted down a pitcher to dump the milk in. Of course the pitcher had dirt in it since we had used it to water the garden, so I washed the pitcher, then poured the remainder of the once-full gallon of milk into it, salvaging just over two quarts. An examination of the punctured milk jug revealed not one, but two slashes in it: one in the bottom, and one on the side. Who even knows. Our TV suffered a similar mysterious fate yesterday: a jab to the center that has rendered nearly a fifth of the screen all wonky, pixelated, and busted. Either a poltergeist or an Amber has been working mischief between my blinks. Nobody else can vouch for the destruction! 

This morning, after Lake Milk but before Shaina Gets Dressed, Rose had a major piano meltdown. About halfway through her practice time, she couldn't figure out one note in one of her songs. Of course it was right when I had slipped downstairs to get dressed, use the bathroom, and brush my teeth. Rose came tromping downstairs charged with emotion. I told her to wait (I do like to be wearing something when I help with piano). Rose had worked herself into such a lather by the time my 6 minute get-dressed-pee-brush-teeth routine was done, that she did not comprehend a single word of my explanations and piano tips. After her second crescendoed shriek-growl in response to my calm "All-Cows-Eat-Grass: it's a G, put your left thumb on it," I cleared the timer and put away Rose's piano books and told her she was DONE.

I led my sobbing six year old into her bedroom and almost left her there to sort out her shattered stubborn emotions, but a little voice in the back of my head told me to stay. Wait. Comfort. Trying not to visualize my daily well of patience shriveling into a crispy dusty desert, I sat down on Rose's miniature desk chair and pulled Rose onto my lap. I held her, hugged her, and squeezed her thin bony body while I tried to figure out what to say and while she cried big fat tears of frustration.

I decided to go with the "acknowledge the irritation" approach, so I said "it's annoying when you can't figure out a note, isn't it? Let's just say it: ARG! ANNOYING! So annoying! Ok, do you remember all of those other times you got super annoyed at cried and freaked out and felt so frustrated?"

[pause and nod] 

"Do you remember that you got over those annoying times too?"

[sob and nod]

"Do you remember HOW you got over those other annoying feelings?"

[resumed dramatic sobs, squeal] "NO! I CAN'T!"

"Ok, but you know you got through it and got over it. So let's take some deep breaths. In, then blow it out hard like the big bad wolf!" 

[shaky breath in, then sobs take over again] "I CAN'T!"

"Try again. Deep breath in, then blow it out like the big bad wolf." (repeated 2-3 more times till she managed it)

"GOOD! You will figure this out because you can do hard things! Let's find some clothes for you to wear today."

--"I need to wipe off my tears first."

Maternal sigh of relief. We navigated through the stormy waters of perfectionist emotion! I helped Rose pick out clothes, giving her plenty of freedom to choose an outfit and regain control of her self and situation. Whew. At piano lessons this afternoon, I asked Rebecca (their teacher) if she could maybe discuss what to do when a hard thing comes up in the music, because Rose memorizes everything her teachers say and their word is law. So dear, AMAZING Rebecca had a wonderful talk with Rose about how it's ok to make mistakes and Heavenly Father will help you when you're doing your best, and if she gets stuck and feels that frustration coming, "take a fire drill!" and move onto the next song. I love love love our dear piano teacher/my friend so much. She is so in tune (pun intended!) and really puts heart into each lesson. 

Back to this morning: I babysat my friend's little one year old while she went to a quick appointment, and he was not happy about it. So there was another half hour stretch of crying scratching away at my patience. In the middle of all the crying I had to cope with this morning, I noticed that while my patience felt the strain, it did not feel the drain. Aside from prayer, I can think of two reasons why:

1. I managed to get my scripture study in before the chaos took over, and that always brings an extra layer of peace around my interactions.
2. I chose to act rather than react to the situations. That is NOT EASY, and I think I fail often. But when I manage to do it, the drain stops sucking me down and all my patience feels is a strain, like I'm lifting a heavy load. Today was a good day for exercising my "patience muscles" instead of draining my patience well and dehydrating those "muscles."

My friend got back from her appointment and we "saddled" our jogging strollers (aka, swathed our small children in snowsuits, as it was barely 40 degrees) and went on a little three mile jog together. We have been meeting to do stroller runs twice a week for the past two weeks, and it has been SO nice. Running with the stroller is hard and uninspiring, but running with a friend who also has a stroller is the opposite. It is so inspiring! We both toil and sweat and shove those heavy children along in front of us, and gasp out conversation along the way. Bonding right there.

During piano lessons today, instead of wrestling with Amber for 50 minutes, I took her to the park. She was in heaven. It was a golden, crisp-mellow apple of a fall afternoon and Amber insisted on wearing her poofiest pale pink tulle dress. It had dirt stains all over the front from when she knelt to dig in the garden earlier, but she clearly felt beautiful, trotting happily around the playground. The other kids on the playground said "hello, princess," when they passed her, even the boys. It was so funny and cute. My little dirt princess.

Poofy dirt princess at the park

On the way home from piano lessons, we picked up some KFC and brought it to Jeff who was trapped at parent teacher conferences until 7:30pm. He loves his fried chicken. Amber floated into the high school in her dirt-covered pink poofy tulle dress and dashed to hug daddy. If only I could bottle her enthusiasm! The girl loves her family. Whenever we pick Jay and Rose up from school, she stands by the office and watches the hallway. The minute Jay or Rose turns the corner and comes into view, Amber sprints down the long hall all the way till she crashes into her siblings with joyful yells "Rose! Rose! Jay! Jay!" It happened today, and then again when we visited Jeff. Amber has a huge spirit in her spunky little body.

This afternoon after piano lessons and homework, I went out on the trampoline with all three kids. After hanging out with Amber so much on the tramp over the past week or so, I realized that I haven't jumped with the big kids in a while. But today I wasn't jumping, I was photographing. I sat on the side of the trampoline and took pictures of the kids' bounding joyful jumping faces. They loved having me out there to show me all of their "tricks" and I got a couple of really cute pictures to treasure up. It was a win-win! That was another good-mom moment--wait, two in one day?! I'm on a roll.

When we came inside around 5:15pm, I let the kids do their screen time while I weeded through the almost 300 pictures I took on the trampoline to see if there were any non blurry keepers. Around 6pm we had dinner. Normally I don't cook "real food" when Jeff is at parent teacher conferences, but I forgot that they were happening tonight so we had some tasty crock pot chicken burritos. Eating real homemade food without Jeff is weird, but I felt more put together and poised tonight than I do when we throw together whatever. That was a good feeling. Mom-wins right and left!

Jay, talking to me across the dinner table: "I bet Daddy is having a great time right now at parent teacher conferences." [pause for a grin] "I'm practicing my sarcasm. I know that he's not having a good time right now because he's not with you." Jeff has taught his son well. Our kids are so completely used to Jeff complimenting me and loving me so much that Jay's explanation for his sarcasm was completely honest and not laced with any lingering humor. Warm heart. Every day I try my best to be the amazing person Jeff tells the kids I am! 

In the spirit of full disclosure, I do believe I was frustrated at someone for something around bedtime because doing bedtime without spousal support is tough. I also know for a fact that when Amber pooped in her pull-up and stunk up the car, I was definitely peeved. Oh, and I was piqued at someone during family scripture time tonight too. But reviewing and writing down all of these positive mom-wins of the day has driven the exact details of my frustrations and griping right out of my head. I'll call that another win!

Jeff got home around 8pm and called me outside to look at the faintly visible dusting of the Milky Way arching across the dark starry sky. Jeff lost his voice today so it was extra quiet while we stood out in the cold looking up at the stars for a minute together at the end of a long day. When we were dating we used to go up to the Blue Ridge Parkway in the Appalachians and stargaze. Looking UP together is a good habit. 

Conclusion #1: There is peace, beauty, and renewal in looking UP.

Conclusion #2: Mom-wins feel awesome!

{end mega 2 hour journal entry}

Pictures: Blogger forces me to resize each image one by one if I want them bigger than this tiny default size. Right now it feels like my brain will melt under the mindlessness of that tedium, so small pictures it is! To view larger size, click on the image and it should let you look at all of the pictures bigger.