Mama Feels Ancient

Wow! That is bright. For some reason I woke up today feeling ancient. Years ago, eight years ago to be exact, a student told me that 32 was ancient. I laughed and pull that story out now and again to point out how silly youth are.

Today, I feel as old as the sun and am creaking around to prove it. In less than 40 days, I will be ancient. My ancient. 40. I am sure that once this milestone is achieved the new 40 will be 80. But for now on the dawn of my last month in the 30s, I feel ancient and am sticking to it. Perhaps having three rambunctious little ones is adding to my state right now. 

I hope I feel less ancient after another cup of coffee.

Mommy's Wee Small Hours

It's funny how in the wee small hours of the morning (you know, the precious time from when you wake up and the minutes later when your small children wake up), for those few small moments, something divine happens. You feel refreshed, the world seems well, and if it is sunny,  bonus! My brood just woke up, so my wee small hours are done, but I hope you savoured yours this morning.

Happy Birthday in Heaven

Today as I logged onto Facebook to check out statuses and whatnot, I realized thanks to the handy dandy birthday reminder that today would have been my cousin's 48th birthday. She died suddenly earlier this year leaving behind her 21 year old son and not a day goes by that I think of her. We were not particularly close, and she had a horribly hard life, but there was a spark there that made you think about her and wonder what would have happened if she did not have such a hard life.

I wanted to say happy birthday on Facebook,  but how could I? Her page is still up and people are posting there, but it just doesn't seem right somehow. So instead, I decided to say a little prayer and to post this here.

You never do know what life will deal you, so tell your loved ones that you love them and don't be cross over stupid things.

Happy Mother's Day!

Once upon a time, there was a child who while laying in the grass saw a white balloon drift over her head. It was a warm day, and the grass was cool. The child tried to imagine her life 30 years in the future. She tried and she tried, but could not. Thirty years seemed like an eternity to a ten year old. Her life was unimaginable outside of the there and then. Seems fitting on this Mother's Day that the image of myself resting in the fresh, Spring grass on a gentle slope with fluffy clouds and a lone balloon floating by resurfaced from my deep memory.

I had totally forgotten about it. Until just a few moments ago when I realized that this life is sometimes not what I would have ever imagined. The constant fights of three children are never far from my ears. Even the priest at Mass today mentioned the way he and his siblings fought back in the days before he was priestly.

So, I guess that sibling rivalry is as old as dirt and that I just have to accept it. The only child in me wants to stamp her foot and resist.

I hope you have a great Mother's Day -free of all the stressful bits.

Monday, again?

This morning I woke up ala Groundhog Day thinking it was Monday. I ran through the whole list in my head of all the things and all the places I had to be. It was exhausting. I should know, in reality, I collapsed into bed last night weary from the day and glad that it was done for the week. Mondays in our household are manic.

As a child, I did what all the other children did from our neighborhood did: went to a school in our town, did activities in our town, and played, yes, played with the other neighborhood children. All ten of us played together. It was delightful for our parents. They openned the door and a bus took us to school. They opened a door and a  bus took us home. They opened a door and the piano teacher arrived. They opened a door and bid us good day in the morning. They opened a door at dusk and called our named. The door. That is what I remember most from my childhood. The open invitation of the door to new adventures and the bike to an innocent freedom.

We were the last innocent generation. We were older when Atari introduced it's first video games. We were intrigued with our state of the art cable television channel changer with its long cord and slide changer. We listened to the radio and 8 Tracks. We loved our vynyl and were not too sure about the new fangled cassette tapes. We knew of computers, but none of us had one. We either wrote it by hand or typed it out. We had to learn how to, gasp, spell, because there was no spell check back then. Sometimes, I wish my children lived when I did. They can't even phathom a day with out a cell phone...I think they would pass out if they had to listen to AM radio...

Mom's lending library?

Over the course of my children's lives I have tried to instill in them a love and respect for books. While they are voracious readers, I have yet to see them actually put any books back on their shelves. They are on the staircase between the spindles, they are on the floor, they are interspersed in the art center, they are on the sofa, they are even flung around the car with abandon.

A friend of mine is the librarian at a local jail. She was telling me how she has to dole out paper one piece at a time and they are only allowed three pieces. I am thinking of taking all the books and locking them up in a closed stack with a "catalogue" of sorts where the children can request up to three books at one time, however, if they are not returned, they will be subjected to reading "Harriet, You Drive Me Wild!" for months on end. Perhaps then my lovely cherubs will actually not only love reading books, but also respect their books.

Mommy's Tantrum

Germany seems like a wisp of a dream from last week. Already, the vestiges of vacation have let their grasp weaken and not even one week into real life, I have snapped. at. my. three. darling. children. I need a drink. or a shoulder to cry upon.

Today, I am feeling like having a meltdown. I have watched for years as my little boy unable to express himself has slipped into such temper tantrums that only a parent of a child with Asperger's or some similar thing could possibly understand. Tonight, I am beginning to see what this frustration bubbling over feels like. It started yesterday actually.

The girls had a play date and left their paper scraps, scissors, markers, crayons and mats all over the living room. Seeing that they will be 8 this summer, I decided that they should clean it up by themselves. After asking three times for them to clean up yesterday, I made the mistake of letting them go to bed with the task undone. Then this morning before school, I again asked, but in the hubbub of trying to get out the door, etc. I forgot to check if it was completed.

Today I decided to stay home to do some cleaning and purposely left the living room floor for the children to deal with. After dinner, I again asked them to clean this mess up. Our son decided to clean up some toys from the dining room table, so I told him he did not need to do the clean up if he was doing other clean up. The girls decided when they heard this that they could scan through iTunes for songs to play, play with a doll house that was already put away while claiming they were cleaning, staple another craft, and punch hearts into a paper. All the while, I was losing my steam.

So, I admit it, I did what my parents would have done more than 30 years ago: I lost my stuffing and started to scream. I screamed and I screamed. I felt beads of blood begin to boil in my veins. My head was close to exploding. All over 20 little scraps of paper, 3 pairs of scissors and two tubs of crayons and markers. Really what did I accomplish? After shedding some tears, the girls finally cleaned up the mess. A two minute project took over 60 minutes to complete and here I am steam abating, wondering just how they will remember tonight's incident.

On the upside, I felt the uncontrollable temper tantrum that Gregory experiences at least once a week. I felt the helplessness of not being able to control it. The silver lining is that I understand him a little more tonight. This photo was taken last week in Duisburg, Germany. It is a calming point for me right now. So I leave you with that and invite you to listen to Mr. Tambourine Man, sip some Malbec and relax with me. Cheers!