November 4th, 2011 I’ve had another couple of hard days of controlling my temper and my tongue. I seriously cussed twice while yelling the other day when my 2 year old dropped Obi Wan into the poopy potty and I had to pull him out and wash him off. I mean, really? Like I haven’t had similar scenarios for years now. A little poopy cleaning never hurt me.
I’ve always identified with Katie Kaboom (I feel as though I should tell you I don’t let my littlest ones watch this, so you might want to get your laughs at me when they are not looking over your shoulder). Except for me it wasn’t a passing phase like the Ice Age. I still have a ridiculously short fuse and now instead of my parents getting the brunt of my stupidity it’s my kids. Oh, my weak repetitive sinning flesh. I mean really, could I please stop the yelling and getting angry over petty stuff, like poopy covered Obi Wans? Could I please stop the cycle with me? Could I once and for all act a little more like the Spirit within me? Please? It’s not for a lack of trying. It’s not for a lack of praying and asking. It’s not for a lack of studying.
Some people don’t struggle with anger management (wow, I stand in awe of you) though they have different struggles. But if you’re like me, if you get mad, snap at those you love, and immediately regret it… If you are like me and spend more time asking forgiveness and apologizing than teaching to the original issue that got you upset in the first place, then we can do several things about it.
First of all, you have to find forgiveness. Really. You have to confess it as sin to God, you have to confess it as sin to your kiddos, and you have to ask them for forgiveness. Now here’s the hard part for me.. you then have to accept their forgiveness. If you stay stuck in what you did you cannot move forward. You cannot teach His goodness and love and forgiveness if you cannot absorb it yourself. He has washed away your ugliness and yelling and sin completely, He has forgotten it. Yes, every.single.time. Have you?
The next step is to prepare yourself for the battle that will come your way the next time. Because if you struggle with any constant sin (and you do, you know) there will be a next time. You must be prepared. Have a plan. One of the things I’ve noticed I end up yelling about is when one of my children talks back. They really, really struggle with not arguing and talking back and having the last say. And I’ve noticed that when I don’t have a response or discipline at the ready in my mind that my go-to response is yelling. I feel out of control and that’s how I respond. I’m not proud, I’m just saying this is what I’ve analyzed in me.
There are also other things that have helped some along the way. Read most of James if you want a bit of conviction. (I like looking up verses and key words at Bible Gateway) Look up being slow to anger, kindness, gentleness, wrath. And then search deeper. Why are you blowing up? For me, it’s a lack of self-control. Look up that key word. Then the verses that really stand out to you, the ones you think “ouch”, write them somewhere. On a chalkboard, paint them on a wall, get a notebook, sticky pad, but most importantly write them on your heart. Say them all the time, pray them over yourself, ask God to make you more like Him.
I have to admit I’ve done all these things for years. Years. And yet, daily I fight with myself. Daily, hourly. I long to shed this thorn. I long to put on a new robe. A clean one. One that I haven’t tarnished time and again. I long to not feel so much like that Obi Wan, pre-poopy cleaning, you know? I long for a good final once and for all scrubbing. I long for the rough edges to be worn off of me. I think, maybe, it’s happening some. I think, maybe, I’m closer than I was 10 years ago. But I’m still awful. Through that awfulness I have to still remember also that I’m still redeemed, I’m still loved while yet that screamer/sinner that I am.
September 27th, 2011 I weaned the nearly two year old Baby a couple of weeks ago. Break.my.heart. He is the longest nursed child of my 5. BigMan came pretty close, I think I weaned him a few months earlier than this sweet baby. I was ready to wean. Really. It wasn’t a rash decision, but that didn’t keep it from being so very difficult. It’s never easy letting go and letting them grow up. It doesn’t matter if it’s your first or your last child. I have celebrated each joy and mourned each chapter’s turning with each child. And this sweet baby has been no different.
I know I could’ve nursed him longer. I didn’t have a number or deadline in my head. I never do. But I just felt like it was time. Yes, it was the all night nursing sessions, the bazillionth case of mastitis, the accidental bite that left me frantically searching for Lansinoh lanolin. Yes, it was all of those, yet none of it. I just knew it was time. I was ready to move on. But again, letting go, even when you’re super ready to move on, just isn’t easy.
Here’s a pic I snapped with my phone of one of the last times to nurse the Baby
For those of you wanting the details.. it has been a long drawn out process. I slowly worked him down to 2 or 3 nursings a day. And then I just didn’t nurse him anymore. I just told him we weren’t going to do that anymore. He would ask all the time “I wanna nurse, Mama.” It would vary how gently or how loud and demandingly he asked depending on the moment. But he asked all day and night. He would accept food and “coco” (what my kids call chocolate milk) eventually in lieu of nursing. I cried in private. I have tried to not cry while he was asking or in front of him. There was that one time that he fell and bumped his head and I cuddled him and he begged through tears to nurse and I cried right along with him while declining his request.
My milk continued to come in several times a day until just the other day. And even that milestone made me cry. The day I realized it hadn’t come in all day long I teared up. I’m not good at long goodbyes. I like clean cut “It’s all over” goodbyes. Not long drawn out, relive the letting go goodbyes. And weaning, generally, is a gradual goodbye. After about a week and a half of not nursing any I got very sore and began to feel the pre-mastitis fever-y I don’t feel right feeling. I wondered if it was even possible to get mastitis a week after weaning, but yes, you can. Thankfully, I didn’t get it. I did all the things I had done before with mastitis (massage, hot showers, ibuprofen, lots of fluids and more rest) just leaving out the excessive nursing part (which also stressed me out and made me sad). Now, though I’m still feeling a little tender, the pain and fear of infection is mostly gone.
The weaning is mostly complete.
Except I’m still sad.
And he’s still asking.
June 11th, 2011 Melissa will at some point have her Saturday Confessions up and when she does I’ll be ready for once. Amazing that I beat her to it today.
I tried to think of cute or witty things to tell you, but really I have a stinky rotten attitude today. The only cute thing I have to offer today are these pics of Baby and the fact that he would scale the Eiffel Tower given the chance but is terrified of the pool, the downtown fountains, the sprinklers, and all other water except the bath.
My kids are watching the movie Up. I hate it. It makes me cry and it feels like it goes on forever.
I have hemorrhoids. The likes of which I haven’t had since I last had a baby. I can’t walk. I can’t stand up. I cry a lot. It makes me snappy at the kids. Yes, you came here to read about ‘rrhoids. You’re welcome.
Seems like every time I talk trash about not worrying about money and/or wanting more kids then the money situation blows smooth up in my face and I see harder times than I’ve seen in a while. It makes it hard not to have a superstitious religion.
I know the whole, if you have nothing nice to say, you shouldn’t say anything at all deal, but really I just felt like crying on your shoulder.
June 9th, 2011 I confessed the other day that I want more kids, right there in the face of the scrutiny of having “so many” already. I’ve had quite a few people tell me I sure do have my hands full and a few not so nice stares. More than a few “you know what causes that right?” and even a couple “Y’all need to get a new hobby!” But I’ve never encountered firsthand disgust and vehemence at my larger than average family. (I’m not reading too much into those comments, am I? You got that too, right?) Okay, there was that one time from that one person who was borderline not so stable, but I basically just dismissed it. Anyway, back to those comments.. So at first I was taken aback. Then I was worried. Then all my super loyal friends stepped up and said funny and sweet stuff and I relaxed a bit. Then Matt started mouthing off about her. And as non-P.C. as his comments were they were truthful and bear repeating.
The comment that started all the mixed emotions was this one by a woman I do not know: (all typos were left in place)
“When someone chooses to have 5 children they make a pledge to themselves to support them in all ways. Clearly, this is a decision of yours not to do this so I don’t feel sorry for whatever hoops you need to jump through. We all pay taxes and I am sure with your husbands 7 deductions you are not paying that much and getting most back. When I was young I could only afford two kids and be able to support them, feed them and educate them. If someone takes state aid and “freebies” they get what they get and must be able to jump through hoops. I am a liberal democrat and just hope all of you who take free aid vote for Obama or all these freebies will disappear. Religion has guided you into something you can’t afford-5 children. Be thankful you can stay home and homeschool and do all the things you do because most can’t. They usually need to working parents to raise those 5 children with all the advantages and education they need.”
And the same woman came back again later and had this to say:
“I thought WIC was for people who were low income and needed help for their babies not to be on for 10 years as the women wrote. If you choose to keep having children because of religious reasons than your church should help you rather than the government since they are promoting having more kids than one can afford.”
There were several things in there that I did not (as my daddy used to say) want to get in a piss fight with a skunk over there at that time, but that I would like to clarify and address now.
First of all, I will not be voting for Obama or any other “liberal democrat” because that’s the whole reason we have had to justify taking that stupid government aid in the first place. If the government would get out of my (yes, I said “my” even though I don’t “work” my husband and I are of one mind, we have one bank account, it is as much mine as it is his) wallet I would have more money to buy the whole milk in the first place. Quit taking money and redistributing it and I wouldn’t have to seek money from the handouts that came out of my husband’s pocket in the first place. Yeah, so that’s how I feel about that one.
Next, the whole “religion guided me to have 5 children and my church should help us not the government” arguments… I am a Christ follower, correct. And it is our conscience that has led us to not desire birth control. Of any kind. However, unlike you suggested, we do not view our children as tax deductions. It would never even have occurred to me to call them that. The fact that you used that language makes me wonder how you see children. They have been planned and desired and hoped and prayed for. Oh, and by the way, we don’t go to church. Stick that one in your neat little box you have pictured that we fit into.
She went on to talk about how she only had 2 children and they had all the advantages she could afford. There’s where Matt got completely un-P.C. and wanted to ask her how that relationship is with them now. How enjoyable that household was when they were growing up. Because it’s not just about what events, toys, clothes, and ballet classes you can provide them with. It’s about dancing in your own home, it’s about the joy on their faces as they pass down their clothes to the next child and remembering how much they loved wearing that Batman shirt. It’s about making time for people, not just shuffling off to the next time-filling event you’ve “provided” them with. It’s about people. Not stuff.
Which brings me to my next inflammatory statement. I want and am trying for another baby.
Yes, we’ve thought we were through before. Several times if you recall. And every time I said we were through I remember a few of you snickered and said, “yeah, right” (Maury!!). And you were right. And if God would bless us so, we’d welcome as many as He would have us to have. That’s a bold statement of faith, folks. It makes me tremble a tad to write it. But the reality is this… life is about.. well, life. And I will embrace it for all it has to offer. In the fun expansive Dallas vacation times and the lean there’s barely enough for whole milk times.
One last thing, Dear critical Mother of Two,
They have names (nicknames here in the blogworld).
This one is TheOldest. He’s 9, but he’d tell you he’s 9 1/2. I only get as long with him before he’s graduated and out in the world as I’ve had already. Time is slipping away before my eyes, but I’m laughing with him, snapping his photo and reveling in his love of American History and studying the Bible. He adores children and babies and is developing his daddy’s sense of humor. He’s struggling to find his way into manhood. And we’re guiding and celebrating that journey with him.
*****
This one is TheMiddlest. He’s 8. He’s a dreamer and a tad bit clumsy at times. He enjoys the moment so much that he forgets there are walls and couches in the way of his roller skating, punk dancing, Wii playing, and chasing. He’s a competitor at heart and can smack talk with the best of ‘em. He laughs and taunts and sometimes is so tenderhearted he cries. He desires to follow Jesus with a quiet strength that amazes me.
*****
This “tax deduction” is our only girl. She’s a 6 year old who’s breezing through her math work and cursive writing and reading complete children’s books. She’s totally princess and pink and sparkly, but she has this raucous laugh that’s so contagious that the toddler has taken to imitating her. She loves dancing and twirling and singing. She loves playing dress up and learning to wear her dollies just as I wear her siblings. She told me the other day that she wants to cook and stay home with her own babies some day. And I couldn’t be more proud.
*****
This child is 4, another of the ones I would never have gotten to meet if I stopped having children when you did, is who we call BigMan. He’s the one I wrote the controversial post about. Ironic name, no, with that small frame? He nicknamed himself. And it was quite a story. He’s been quite a child, full of excitement, independence, sweetness, busyness, and funny talky voices. He is one of the many lights of our life. My snuggle bug.
*****
This “kid”, one of “too many”, is the one we still call TheBaby, though, really at 20 months (today!) he’s more the toddler, but I just can’t bring myself to let go of the “Baby” name just yet. We laughingly called him TheFinalist for a bit, but couldn’t bring ourselves to keep calling him that because we just couldn’t embrace the concept. We wanted to focus more on him, than on some temporary false desire for our own independence. He still nurses and now is beginning to ask for it: “Wanna Nur!” But he has some word for it that sounds something like “nurdaydoe”. I don’t know what it is, but I sure know what it means! He still cosleeps part of the time, he has fluffy curls that I can’t bring myself to cut just yet. He does this little back and forth dance thing to any music, but the move that really gets everyone laughing around here is his arms in the air rap song move. He climbs everything, gets into everything, and loves chasing his siblings, but hates getting in the pool.
*****
And if God, the living Father of my “religion”, sees it best to bless us with another little person we would welcome that life with such joy as you might have never seen. Our life may be chaotic and confusing to you, but the joy bursts the seams of this tiny house you might thumb your nose at.
Our lives reflect life. And it’s a marvelous Light.
June 5th, 2011 I have people say all the time to me, “I don’t know how you do it.” You know, referring to having a bunch of kids and …. (fill in the blank: going grocery shopping, playing at a playland, homeschooling, keeping my sanity).
And usually now I just smile and tell them they could do it too. Because really though it feels like it’s gotten easier, not harder having more kids, I think the real answer is that I’ve simply adjusted. Therefore, I know for a fact you could adjust just as well as I have. Really, I promise.
Saturday morning we got up at the crack of dawn (which is nothing new), I served the kids hot dogs before 7am, Matt brewed us some coffee and we hit the road. A garage sale, the Farmer’s Market, a park, Blue Coast burrito divided between Matt and me on the road, Chick-fil-A playland for the kids, another garage sale, and home to grill and play in the pool. Sounds idyllic, right? I know I used to think, “How do people do it? They talk about doing all these things with their kids, but when we try it somebody always pees their pants.”
And you know what? Somebody always does.
Today’s trip to town brought with it a poopy diaper and a discovery that I left the wet wipes out of my bag. I looked around my dirty I-Spy van (which comes in quite handy; you thought it was just laziness when really it’s a survival skill I’ve developed), I found some napkins and a bottle of water. Knowing that the napkins would disintegrate if I poured the water directly on them before wiping aforementioned dirty bottom, I left the diaper under his little bottom, poured the water on that cute little booty and then wiped. Rinse and repeat. It wasn’t a show-stopper. Nobody cried or flipped out or even cussed. Nothing was bought to fix the problem. Just a little resourcefulness and a “go on about our rat killin’”.
There were other issues, somebody spilled the hand cleaner, there were 2 potty emergencies, there was an unplanned side of the road nursing session (yes, for the toddler, that’s how we roll), the van started making a new noise, we got to the burrito place 15 minutes early and had to drive around to kill time, and other varied and sundry issues.
But such is life with kids. Embrace it, don’t fight it.
The days that go well, I’ve noticed are the days I roll. Not the days I feel entitled to things going smoothly. Not the days I dig in my heels and grit my teeth.
That’s how I do it. No secrets. Having 5 kids, being an attachment parent, homeschooling, staying home and consequently choosing way less money. It’s all hard. If there’s any secret it’s this: It’s never easy. Not having one child, not having 15. Not homeschooling, not public schooling. It’s all hard. Breastfeeding, formula feeding. Staying home, working. It’s all hard. Life is hard. I just pick the things that work best for us. I choose the things I like most, I don’t let much scare me off. And I’m learning to roll with the punches.
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