A shift...

I have spent years being the most important person in the lives of my children. They love their dad, don't get me wrong. But he worked a lot, and I was on the front lines as the full time mother and housewife. They came to me for food, drinks, clothes, shoes, cuddles, you name it. And now I can feel that need changing. They are becoming more and more independent, and I am becoming a peripheral figure in their lives. Especially Dylan's, now that he is a very grown-up eight year old.

I never thought it would bother me. Truth be told, in many ways it doesn't. I love that they can do most things for themselves now. It's incredibly freeing! But it does make me slightly sad that I will never be the focal point in their little lives again. From here on out it will be friends, then girlfriends and boyfriends, then spouses, and then children (hopefully in that order!).

Life is kind of like the weather in England--if you don't like it, just wait five minutes.

He's been replaced...

The kids don't like to hold hands with each other when we say our family prayers. Not a problem when Martin is home, because they each hold one of our hands. Unfortunately, he's at work five nights a week.

So tonight I suggested we let a teddy bear take Daddy's place in the circle. It worked brilliantly, but Dylan said the following during his prayer:

"Thank you for helping us find someone to take Daddy's place when he's at work."

Poor Martin, replaced by a stuffed toy!

We've had a lovely Christmas break, and Dylan's back at school tomorrow. Edith goes back on Thursday. We've all been sick over the last few weeks, but had a great time anyway. The best part of it was sleeping in 6 days a week. No major incidents, good times had by all.

Sigh...

Back to early mornings tomorrow, but back to mornings free with my husband. Bitter sweet!

Bliss

Sometimes, I like having children who are ok with the following conversation...

"Kids, you know I love you, right?"

'Yes.'

"You know that you make me very happy, right?"

'Yes.'

"I'm used to both of you being at school now, and you didn't have school today, did you?"

'No.'

"I didn't get any 'Mommy time' today, so I'm feeling a bit cross and cranky. It's nothing you did. I just need some 'Mommy time.' Can you be my big helpers by going to bed REALLY well tonight?"

'Yes.'

"Ok, good. I love you."

'Love you, too.'

And then they went to bed, no questions asked.

Quite a successful first day of the school holidays. It also involved shopping and making fun Halloween crafts. Awesome!

Shhh, don't tell!

After nearly two years of almost constant exhaustion, I finally have my energy back. So what is my secret, you ask? A little pill, taken every night after dinner, called fluoxetine.

Yes, that's generic brand Prozac.

I have seriously been struggling with nearly debilitating exhaustion for that long. Combined with the most horrific mood swings and explosions of anger I've ever experienced (and I've even been on fertility drugs!), life has really been difficult. For everyone in the family!

For some reason, I never put the two symptoms together in my mind. It wasn't until the whole situation with the neighbors that I cottoned on to the fact that I was actually pretty depressed and needed to seek professional help. So thanks, J., for bringing that to my attention. I started taking the fluoxetine about 10 days ago.

A few nights ago, I realized that the medication was starting to work. I'd spent the night mostly alone, and it wasn't a particularly easy night. Edith was difficult at bedtime, as she has been for about 6 weeks now, and I just watched a few programs on telly by myself. But as I walked to the bathroom to start my skin and dental cleansing regimen, I realized something. I was content. Like, properly content. For the first time in longer than I care to admit. And apparently, I won't even feel the full benefit of it for 4-6 weeks.

So how do I feel about going on anti-depressants?

Worried.

Embarrassed.

Ashamed.

Relieved.

Obviously, there can be some pretty nasty side-effects from going on SSRI's. It's a concern. I've already experienced two days of horrific side effects that I'll not go into on a public forum. But I should only be on the meds for a maximum of about 5 months, and so far, the benefits outweigh the risks.

I'll be combining the medication with some form of talking therapy, as well. I have a mental health counsellor named Will, who I really like because he is a) super nice and b) Scottish, so he says things like "lassie" and "can'ny." And he's helping me realize that needing a little bit of help is nothing to be embarrassed about. We've only met once, but he pointed out a lot of things to me that I'd not realized before.

Mostly, he made me see that my life IS actually pretty stressful, even though I am a full-time mommy and housewife. The way he described my life to me was a bit of a revelation. And it's not so much stress in the stereotypical sense of the word. More isolation and powerlessness. And I am a control freak, so being helpless IS stressful.

I guess the feelings of shame about my depression and needing the medication stem from a belief that I actually have it much better than so many other people. I feel like I ought to be able to cope with my life, and that my failure to do so is a major character flaw. I'm so privileged to have my life, and not being happy with it seems like self-indulgent nonsense. But what it all comes down to, in the end, is a chemical imbalance and/or deficiency in my brain. And if medication corrects that deficiency, then why shouldn't I take it?

The relief is by far the most overwhelming emotion I am experiencing right now. I feel as though a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel like I can start to trust myself with my children again. I feel emotionally stable for the first time in years. I feel like I can breathe.

And I feel like getting out of bed in the morning again, which feels like nothing short of a miracle.

They say your kids are either punishment or reward for your childhood...

Edith has been punishing me for my youthful misdeeds this week.

What a week of contrasts, too. We took her to her first ever swimming lesson on Monday, and I was so proud of her I felt like I was going to explode. And later that night I was so angry with her that I actually had to leave the house before I exploded and threw her down the stairs.

That girl is completely fearless, and she was amazing in her swimming lesson. She was chatting away to the other kids in the class, listening attentively to the instructor, and kicking her way across the pool (with a float, of course) like a pro. At the end of the lesson, all of the kids jump in. When the instructor held her arms out for her, Edith launched herself into the pool with not even a moment's hesitation.

But for the past week she has been refusing to go to bed at night. She's normally asleep by about 7:30 or 8pm, but she hasn't been asleep before 9pm since last Thursday. I'm thinking it's just one of those phases where she is testing her limits. Dylan went through a few of those, but they were before he could talk properly, and before he knew how to open his bedroom door.

The worst part of the week has been the noise. She keeps screaming at me--weirdly enough, she is screaming "good night, I love you, see you in the morning, have a good sleep, goodbye!" But it breaks my heart and makes me crazy all at the same time. I'm trying to stick to my discipline guns. It's hard, but I know I need to teach her respect for my authority NOW, or I'll have no chance when she's a teenager. My official discipline policy is that I do NOT negotiate with terrorists.

Luckily, I'm even more stubborn than she is.

Or maybe I've just had more practice :)

Mother's Day

Mom, you are one amazing lady. Even if you weren't my mother, I'd still want to hang out with you. Because you are smart, fun, silly, and a little bit crazy. Thanks for being my parent when I was a child and my friend now that I have children of my own.

Thanks for giving me life, and teaching me the right way to live it.

You rock!

Dylan and Edith, you are the greatest blessings I have ever received. Thank you for teaching me the lessons that I could never learn without you. You are my anger, frustration, irritation, amusement, and, above all, my joy.

Thanks for making me a mother, and giving my life meaning.

You rock, too!

I have definitely been blessed in the mother department.

Joy

Had a lot of that today, and it was much needed.

We got off to a rough start, with Dylan's scissors ban being put back into force. He had strict instructions to only cut paper or he would not be allowed to use scissors in our house again until his fifth birthday (result of Edith's haircut), and I came downstairs this morning to find the shredded remnants of a swimming arm band. So no scissors for Dylan until the 29th of August.

Then there was general naughtiness--Edith disobeying me, Dylan sneaking toys out of the house, etcetera.

But I took the kids to the Pink Pig farm today, and we had such a wonderful time. It was sunny and warm, and we all enjoyed being outside. We went on a tractor ride, saw (and smelled) the pigs, fed the sheep and geese, and played for ages on the adventure playground. I even let Edith go down the zip line on her own, which is a big deal for me. I nearly had a heart attack the first time I let her go, but she loved it. And, better still, she did NOT fall off! Dylan spent absolutely ages playing with the water pump/troughs/sand pit. We all went on the big six-seater swing together. Good, clean fun. And good exercise, too.

I took the kids to McDonalds for a late lunch afterwards. They were well behaved, and very hungry! We played together, ate together, and laughed together all afternoon. And though bed time was hard because they were both very tired, I can honestly say that I enjoyed nearly every minute of my day with my children.

I love being a mother, but it has not been an easy role for me to fill. I look at other women, women who are so nurturing and caring and natural with their children, and I wonder how they manage it. I don't understand how someone can be completely fulfilled by taking care of a husband and kids all day long. It's such hard work, and so often goes unappreciated. There are days when I feel like my children, beautiful and wonderful as they are, are sucking all the life out of me. I love them with all my heart, but I still sometimes resent the ways I've had to change because of them. How can any woman not feel this way? And yet, quite a lot of women don't. I am mystified by them, I admire them, and I hope some day I can be like them.

But in the mean time, I will treasure days like today. Days when motherhood doesn't seem like a burden, but like a real blessing. Because I know that's what it's supposed to be like. And one day like today can make up for a whole lot of bad days. I can hold on to the memory of a day like this one, and use it to get me through the tough times that are always on the horizon for me.

I remember hearing once that true joy isn't about being happy all the time. Joy is the ability to feel things deeply--even the bad things. I can accept that definition, because soul-deep sadness only makes the good times seem that much better. Like my 7th grade home-economics teacher taught us--you have to add a pinch of salt to any sweet dish you make. If you don't, no matter how much sugar you put in, it will never taste sweet enough.

Insight...

It occurred to me just yesterday that I am guilty of doing something that I HATE. I have been treating Dylan like a much older child than he is.

I pulled him onto my lap last night, and gave him a gigantic cuddle. He practically melted into me, and I realized that we hardly ever cuddle any more. He is so big for his age, and so advanced in his speech and reading. I just forget sometimes that he is really only a very young four-year-old.

So I've got a theory that one of the reasons he's been acting up is that he's been craving the snuggles and cuddles he got as a toddler.

He got plenty of affection from both his parents today, and he was better. We'll see if my theory holds up under experimentation.

Even if it doesn't, this kid is pretty easy to love and hug!

My little social retard...

Dylan's parent teacher conference a few weeks ago went great. His teacher said that he is doing very well all-round. He is average in some areas of his education and development, and VERY advanced in others. But, as always, their one area of concern was his social development.

Basically, my son prefers the company of his teachers to the company of the other children at school. He doesn't really have any close friends and, as I understand it, doesn't really play with anybody in his class.

Dylan loves going to school. He's not unhappy there, and I'm wondering if I should just leave well enough alone. Does he need an intervention?

Of course, worrying about our son has raised the question of my own childhood. Mostly, did my mom have these same worries about me? Because seriously, as soon as I could read I spent about 90% of my waking hours with my nose buried in a book. Laura Ingalls Wilder was my best friend in first, second and third grade. The Sweet Valley twins were my best mates until I was about 13. Then it was Stephen King and pretty much any trashy romance novel I could get my hands on. My tastes grew more sophisticated in college, when I developed a love of Margaret Atwood. Then, at the tender age of 20, Ernest Hemingway and I developed a wonderful relationship that was destined to last a lifetime.

Dylan having these issues at school has made me realize that he probably gets it from me. My poor mother must have had these same worries. All of a sudden, I am re-thinking all the play dates and friends that I had as a child and pre-teen. Were they all a desperate attempt to get me to socialize with kids my own age? Did my mother force my two older sisters to play with me in a (vain) attempt to get my nose out of a book and my backside into the yard to play?

Of course, once I found my fellow outcasts at about 15 I became more social. Sadly, not with people my parents approved of. But that's a WHOLE different blog post, and it was actually part of the appeal of my new "friends."

I am worried about Dylan, but I guess we'll just keep encouraging him to play with other kids and see where this heads. In the mean time, I will just enjoy knowing that my son is every bit as intelligent as I always suspected. Seriously bright boy!

And Sheldon seems to do ok.

Dylan, you must be from the Caribbean...

...'cause Jamaican me crazy!

Seriously, I love my son.  He's cute, gorgeous, and too smart for his own good.  But the kid is bugging the crap out of me right now.  He's going through this really whiny phase at the minute, and he is EXCEPTIONALLY needy when Martin is at home.  He's also becoming quite pedantic, which is bad news for his sister.  Poor Edith gets shouted at when she says anything wrong, and she's only 2 years old.  It makes for a pretty long Saturday.

I'm struggling to get through the evenings at the minute.  Don't know why, but I have been very short tempered of late.  I'd blame it on PMS, but thanks to my Mirena, I have no menstrual cycle to speak of.  Which leads me to believe that it's not me, it's them.

I wish I could be a loving and besotted parent all the time, but the truth is that while I always love my kids, I spend quite a lot of time not liking them very much.  Some days are a success if I manage to not shout at them.

Today was not a success.

Also, I take a sick pleasure in tormenting Dylan with things he is irrationally afraid of.  Like refusing to turn off "Mr. Maker" when the shapes come on and turning on the vacuum before he has a chance to get to the sofa.  Does that make me a sadist, a bad parent, or both?

Please don't call social services on me.  I'll be nicer to them tomorrow.

Promise!

So grown up now...

Today was Dylan's first day of all-day school.  We took him over for 8:50am and picked him up at 3:15pm.  He had such a good time--he woke up at his usual 6am and got himself dressed in his uniform.  Martin did his packed lunch at 6:30.  When I got up at 7:15, he was ready to go.

After we dropped him off, Martin and I took Edith shopping.

We had a delightful day.  It was so quiet in the house, and I remembered how much easier it is to only have one child at home.  When Martin got home, the house was immaculate, the laundry was caught up, my hair and make-up were done, and Edith had been reading a book instead of watching telly.

Don't get me wrong--we missed Dylan.  From here on out, Dylan will only spend about 5 waking hours a day at home with me and Martin.  That's terrifying to me, that I am trusting the school system to teach him and take care of him that much.  I can actually see why so many parents choose to home-school their kids.  I would never do it, but I can understand it.  I'm just going to have to make every moment count.

Edith and I are going to have a good time together.  She will finally get the one-on-one attention she's never had.  At least until April, when she'll get her 3 year funding and start going to nursery for 15 hours a week.  Then I'll probably have to get a job. 

Pants!

How strange, that if we were in the U.S. right now, Dylan wouldn't be in school at all.  He loves it so much, and was completely ready to go.  Edith is already excited to go to school, as well.  I wonder how much of that is because of their nature and how much is because of the school system over here.

And speaking of precocious children, Edith is now potty trained.  She is still sleeping in a pull-up, but she is actually dry most mornings already.  It took approximately 3 days to potty train her, but I didn't want to post about it in case I jinxed the whole thing.  I will probably only need to buy one more pack of pull-ups, and then we will be done with diapers.

I am so proud of how grown up my children are.  They just get more wonderful with each passing day.

Having just said that, I'm pretty sure tomorrow will be a bad day and I'll wish I could take it all back.

Birthday boy...

My baby is 4 years old--I can hardly believe it!

Dylan celebrated his birthday on Monday, and it was a great day for everyone.  He started it out by opening his presents in mom and dad's bedroom (both kids are big fans of playing on our bed), and he loved his presents.  He got a great package from his Auntie Angie and Uncle Greg (and kids) that had some lollies (opened in minutes), Spiderman socks (delighted), and 3 Power Ranger toys (took them with us in the car and played with them the whole way to Manchester AND back).  He also got a few Lego bits and pieces and some Lightening McQueen pajamas, slippers, and a dressing gown. 

It ws just cereal for breakfast, but it seems to be his favorite breakfast food.  Then we got an early start because we were meeting his grandparents and auntie and uncle at the Trafford Centre in Manchester.  Dylan had no idea where we were going, but he was pretty excited about the surprise.

The trip over was eventful.  Not in a bad way, just in an annoying way.  We left on time and were cruising along roughly 20 minutes ahead of our other party members.  Then Dylan had to pee.  In the absence of motorway services, we found a place to pull over so he could go at the side of the road.  Got back on the motorway without any problems--this time.  10 minutes later, he told us he needed to poo.  Once again, no motorway services.  So we pulled off the motorway (again).  Dylan got his trousers and pants, um, slightly dirty this time (dad needs to practice his sitting down hold).  We also couldn't get back onto the motorway and Google Maps was having issues on Martin's phone, so we ended up getting to the Trafford Centre about 15 minutes AFTER the other car.  And we decided never to give our kids Froot Shoots at the beginning of a long drive again.

Anyway, we scarfed down a quick lunch at Pizza Hut and then jogged through the mall to get to our destination in time for our timed ticket entry. 

LEGOLAND DISCOVERY CENTRE!

We walked in and Dylan gazed around with wonder and awe.  He said, "Dad, everything's made of Lego."  And Martin said, "That's because this is Legoland, Dylan."  The look on his face was totally priceless.

We spent the next 3 1/2 hours wandering around Legoland.  Both kids had so much fun.  Cathy and John weren't having quite as much fun, John having celebrated the 8-2 Manchester United win over Arsenal a bit too enthusiastically the night before (he left early for a bit of the hair of the dog...), but I think we all had a nice time.  The highlight, for me anyway, was taking him to the 4-D cinema for the short Bob the Builder show.  Dylan kept his 3-D goggles on the whole time, and watching him duck and swat at things was so much fun.  It even snowed (bubbles) at the end of the film.  And there was a falling birdhouse with "dust" from a smoke machine.  When that one happened, Dylan actually asked me if it had fallen on us!

He opened some more gifts at Nanna's car.  He got more Lego and a Buzz Lightyear dress-up costume.  We grabbed some dinner at McDonald's and started the drive home.  He was asleep within 15 minutes.  He slept until Leeds, where we woke him up to take him to the new Krispy Kreme doughnuts shop.  Oh yes, there's a Krispy Kreme next to Ikea.  Edith and I will be spending many a happy day over in Leeds when Dylan starts school again!

Anyway, we got home just in time to throw the kids into bed.  We were all exhausted and happy.  And when we asked Dylan if he'd had a nice birthday he said, "It was BRILLIANT!"

The best part is, some of his gifts hadn't arrived yet.  So he got to open another present yesterday (from me and Martin) and will get to open two more packages from America.  Those should get here today or tomorrow.  He gets to celebrate his birthday for a whole week!

I love taking my children to places that I know they'll enjoy.  I love watching them have a good time.  I told Dylan that my favorite part of the day had been watching him have a good time, and it was true.  I love giving them gifts, too.  I guess I just love to see them happy.

Dylan and I were talking the other day about his birthday being a special day for me, too.  I told him that it wasn't until he was born that I became a mom.  Before that, I was just Jamie.  So I thanked him for being born and making me a mommy.  And he smiled the most beautiful smile--the one that means he knows how special he is to me.  The one that means he knows his worth.

The last four years have been some of the happiest of my life!

Not for the faint-hearted...

We are potty training Edith, and it is a dirty job!

It's also a huge leap of faith, and a big deal for anyone who has a weak stomach or values their carpet.

Think about it--you are taking the diaper off a very young child and trusting that they'll have the bladder control necessary to NOT wet or soil your carpet.  You're counting on someone who just BARELY learned to speak to tell you when they need to pee.  And you are preparing to scrub your floors with heavy-duty disinfectant!

Edith had her first pooping accident yesterday.  Thankfully, Martin was at home to help me deal with it.  He cleaned up the solid waste and our daughter.  I got to spray down the rug.  Martin scrubbed the carpet.  NASTY!

And, sadly, three things crossed my mind when I saw the not-so-little present Edith had left for us.  The first thing was, Oh.  $h*% (literally).  The second was, how did she ever get THAT out of her tiny bottom.  The third was, maybe I should stop giving her so much fruit for the next month.

Life gets very weird when you have children. 

Sometimes I really miss having cats.

The old tricks are still the best...

When Dylan was a baby, he would not sleep during the day if we were in the house.  Let me tell you, it was torture.  If I wanted him to have a nap, I had to take him for a walk or a drive.  And the second we walked through the door, he would wake up.  I was exhausted, and I never got anything done in the house.  Ever.

I tried EVERYTHING to get him to sleep.  And I got so tired of people saying, "Well, have you tried ...(fill in the most obvious solution here)?"

So one day when I bumped into an old co-worker of Martin's, I nearly shut out her suggestion.  But it was something I'd never tried before and it was worth a shot.  She said, "Have you tried lying down with him when you put him down for a nap?"

I tried it.

It worked.

Life became much more restful and I became a much better mother and nicer person.

Last night, Martin took Dylan to a football match.  It was Leeds v. Hull at Elland Road, and kick-off was 7:45pm.  We told Dylan that he could only go if he promised to have a nap the next day.  The kid wakes up at the same time every morning, regardless of what time he got to sleep.  He promised, but went back on it today.  So I tried the old trick from when he was a baby.

He fell asleep in my arms.

That was nearly 2 hours ago.

It was beautiful.

Stupid lungs...

I'm recovering now from a nearly 4 week long bout with cold, asthma, and, as diagnosed on Tuesday, bronchitis.  Thank heaven for antibiotics!

Generally speaking, I am a very healthy person.  Carrying a few extra pounds, yes, but quite healthy.  It's always my lungs that let me down.  If I get any sort of illness that involves my respiratory system, my asthma flares up.  Then my immune system becomes weak, and before you can say "bunch of munchy crunchy carrots," I have a chest infection of some kind. 

I mean, seriously, 4 weeks of illness because of a stupid summer cold?

Martin has been great, though.  Yesterday he took the morning off.  He couldn't take care of me, but he did the next best thing.  He took the kids out to the Deep so the only person I had to take care of was me. 

The kids have been little troopers.  They've been patient and well behaved--especially Dylan.  He is so understanding when I'm ill, and he steps up his game to help me.  Obviously, he has his slip-ups (he's a bit of a nightmare right before bed), but that's only when he's tired.

Tonight when I put the kids to bed, I had one of those moments.  You know the ones--when you love your children so much that it feels like your heart can't be contained in your chest any more.  There is so much love that you are going to explode with it.  And you let it spill out in hugs, kisses, and a few choked back tears.

A (parenting) match made in heaven...

Dylan is a cute kid, but he could really be a nightmare if I'd let him.

I am not a super-mom.  I make mistakes, and plenty of them.  But there is one thing that I always do right, no matter what.  I say what I mean and I mean what I say.  From day one with my children I have tried my hardest to be consistent in both praise and punishment.  And I have never backed down from a punishment I have threatened, even when it ends up making things harder for me.

My son is fond of testing his boundaries.  He likes to push his limits to find out just what he can get away with.  And I won't let him get away with anything.  Because if I let him, he would be completely out of control.

I guess what I'm saying is, I may not be the best mother in the world, but I am the best mother in the world for HIM.

I have a sneaking suspicion that Edith will be the same way, though she is still a bit more biddable than he is.  Wow, things are NOT going to be fun at my house in about 10 years.

It's so much easier now...

Edith just woke up crying.

Don't leave me now, because I'm not going to whine about it.  Seriously!

I was just going to say how nice it is that she's talking now.

When I went up to see what was wrong with her, I picked her up and gave her a cuddle.  Then I asked her if she was ready to go back to sleep.

She pointed to my bedroom and said "wreent."

I know it sounds like total gibberish to everyone else, but luckily for me I am (almost) completely fluent in Edithese.

She wanted a drink.  She was pointing to my bedroom because I keep a Nalgene bottle full of water on my bedside table.

One of the most exciting developmental milestones (so far) in my childrens' lives has been the ability to speak.  Oh, language is a real gift.

Newborns are easy.  If they are crying, chances are they either want to be fed or need the mess from their last feed cleaned off their backsides.  Now obviously you have the occasional "other" problems, like over-stimulated, over-tired, teething, etc.  But let's be honest here--I breast-fed my babies until they were quite ridiculously old and if there was something else wrong with them, a little "momma milk" sorted it out anyway.

But somewhere in between the baby stage and the toddler stage is that awkward, annoying and difficult stage when there is no reasoning with them and no comforting them.

Wow, I hate that stage.

They know what they want, but they are unable to tell you what it is.  You want to help them and give them what they want, but you just CAN'T UNDERSTAND! 

Dylan was always a great communicator.  He was slow to start talking, but once he started--well, I haven't been able to get him to shut up since.  He had a few words that were difficult to understand, like "ottaker" instead of "helecopter" and "issinge" instead of orange, but he always spoke so clearly.  Perfect strangers never had any trouble understanding him, even from just two years old.

Edith has been a bit more difficult.  She was a slow starter as well, in a lot of different areas.  And now, well, she's turning into a little chatterbox as well.  But she speaks her own little toddler language that only Martin, Dylan and I understand.

She is completely unable to make a "k" sound, so when she means "pink," what she actually says is "peen-t."
Instead of saying "thank you," she goes "ahh-ahh."

I really love that she has her own little language, but I love it even more that I understand it.

It really is so much easier whan that child learns how to talk.

It's even better when they begin to learn to reason. 

Logic is so very underrated.

One of those days...

I love my job.  No, really.  I do.  But every once in a while I just get fed up with being a full time stay-at-home mom.  Today was definitely one of those days.  But more so.  Today I was just fed up of having kids at all.

The last 24 hours have brought urine and squash on my carpet, crayon on my walls, the iPod speaker getting dropped (and possibly broken), toys left on the floor and stepped on (I hate Lego) and a creeping and pervasive mess in my house. 

I just feel as though the kids are gradually turning everything we own into absolute crap!

I remember one day not long after my grandpa died when I broke a bowl.  It was an accident.  I opened the cupboard and it fell onto the ceramic tile floor in my parents' kitchen.  My mom screamed at me, and then she started sobbing.  Her parents had bought her those dishes when she got married, and she was devastated when that bowl broke.  I thought she was being ridiculous at the time.

I so get that now.

Nobody tells you when you start this whole parenting thing that all your stuff will be systematically destroyed.  You know, it would probably be really good birth control if they did.

I love my little mess makers, but jeez louise, enough already.

Tomorrow should be a better day.

Ewww...

I know my kids are entirely too old for me to blog about their poop, but here goes anyway.

Edith wouldn't come in the house this evening for bedtime cartoons.  That's very unusual!  She just stood out in the middle of the garden and cried.

When I went to collect her, I discovered a big old mess.  She had to be sprayed down in the bathtub.

I guess I will stop blogging about my kids' bowel movements when they are no longer the most interesting part of my day.  But scraping human waste out of Edith's boots sure seems newsworthy to me.

Motherhood is such a treat sometimes.

ARGH!!!

Dylan has an annoying new habit.  It's even worse than the incessant "Why?"

He asks a question (or makes an observation). 

We answer the question (or acknowledge the observation, because he's Dylan and he won't shut up until you acknowledge his comments).

Then, 10 seconds later, HE ASKS THE QUESTION AGAIN!

Seriously, the kid is making me crazy.

Oh, and for some reason Edith has started freaking out if she doesn't have her feet covered. 

My little neurotics.

They say the apple never falls far from the tree, right?  So who's the nut job--me or Martin?

Ooooh, don't answer that, ok?