Saying No to Systems Badge

My husband Michael is always trying to systematize my life. Why would a responsible woman like myself need that, you ask? Well, because I lose things a lot. A lot. I never set things (keys, debit card, wallet, phone) down in the same place. Therefore, I am constantly hunting for them.

Yesterday at Meijer I buckled the kids in and unloaded the groceries from the cart into the car. At some point during the span of those two events, I misplaced my keys. Whoops. I looked all over the front seat. Not there. I looked behind my seat and in my purse. Not there either. Hmmmm. I knew they had to be around somewhere. I was, after all, sitting in my car that had previously been locked before I clicked it open two minutes beforehand. So, I got out of the car and opened the trunk where the groceries were. Nope. My one last hope before I freaked out -- I opened the sliding door and aha, there they were tucked behind Ella's car seat.

I got back into the driver's seat and sat for a minute thinking about the ridiculousness of this situation. I thought, "I need a system. I need to always set my keys in the same place." Then a new thought occurred to me. "I don't need a system. This is good for me."

• Searching for my keys keeps me on my toes. (I never know where they might end up)
• Searching for my keys keeps my brain stimulated. (As a mother of three littles, I am in danger of brain muscle atrophy)
• Searching for my keys increases my critical thinking skills. (I'm thinking of many different places my keys could be and many different scenarios that will play out if I can't find them)
• Searching for my keys builds my character (patience)
• Searching for my keys develops my spiritual life (Dear God, where are my keys? Please help)

Forget systems. I would forego so much personal growth if I implemented them.

Today I lost my phone. I scoured the house inside and out. I could not find it anywhere. So, I got on Facebook to find someone online to call it for me (Critical Thinking). I've had to do this several times. My great friend Julie Gleason was live on chat, so she called my phone a bunch until I found it sitting on the roof of my van in the driveway. Add to the list:

• Searching for my phone helps me build relationships and rely on others (Hey FB friend, can you call me?)

All that to say, I'm thankful for the growth in my life due to lost keys, phones and other personal effects. Keep it coming.

A few asides:

• I did get up at 3:45 a.m. to prepare for my Royal Wedding Party. It was a riot. I haven't laughed so hard in awhile! Pics are on FB.
• I have a bite on my eyelid that I thought was a bite, but then today I thought it was a pimple. So I kept picking at it and now it's so swollen I could barely see out of it earlier. Gross. I think it is a bite. All my neighbors told me they didn't even notice it while we were playing outside today. Liars. "See that giant pink unicorn that just landed in the front yard?" "Uh, nope, what are you talking about?" My eye now protrudes like Dobby the house elf! Great look for my 30th birthday weekend!
• Have you ever read the children's book, Have You Filled A Bucket Today? I totally recommend it. It's a really easy way to teach kids how to be loving and thoughtful.

I'm throwing Snow White in the trash Badge

Well, so much for uninterrupted Timer Time. Dang it. Ev and Jack have each been out of their rooms twice this afternoon. Ugh. Don't worry though. I'm sticking with it. I will get some free time.

This morning Evelyn asked me to give her a makeover before we went to our Bright Beginnings play group. I asked her what she was talking about and she told me she wanted me to make her prettier than all the other girls that would be there. Seriously? So, I went into this whole shpeel about how everyone is equally beautiful and God makes us all unique and special in our own way - we don't need painted nails or makeup. I felt proud of my lofty oration until she asked at the end, "Can you still make me prettier?"

How in the world does she even know what a makeover is or what it means to be prettier than someone else? She told me it's from Snow White. I've watched Snow White and I don't remember that part. Does she get a makeover by the Dwarves? I thought she redid their cottage? Whatever. I'm throwing that movie in the trash. Done and done!

Then at play group, Evelyn painted a picture and brought it over to me. In front of other moms she announced it was a TV. Really? Not a dinosaur like that girl or a bug like that little boy? No, a TV. I felt exposed. Darn that Red Box. We have been frequent patrons these past few rainy days.

Two asides ...

1. I will be wearing my wedding dress at 4:45 a.m. tomorrow morning drinking mimosas with a few of my girlfriends. You all are welcome to join us. Royal Wedding time!
2. I am making veggie meatloaf (weird and impossible, right?) tonight. It's amazing. Trust me. Vegetarian meals are always better. They have to be because vegetables are, well let's be honest, gross. So they have to be seasoned super yummy! This recipe doesn't even have any!! Here it is...

• 3 eggs beaten
• 1 pint small curd cottage cheese
• 2 cups special K cereal
• 2 cups rice krispies
• 1/4 cup ground walnuts
• 1/4 cup oil
• 1 package of liptons onion cup of soup
• Ketchup

Preheat oven to 375. Mix all ingredients. Place in 8X8. Cover with foil. Cook 45 minutes. Take foil off. Add Ketchup and cook 15 minutes more. (You can use all Krispies or K if you need to!)

Enjoy!

I'm Going to be a Better Blogger Badge

I suck at blogging. I was so excited about starting this daily "journal" of mundane motherhood feats and I just haven't stuck with it.

Well, I'm going to do better. I must do better. There's something therapeutic in looking back over my totally chaotic day and giving myself a few badges. And I must admit there's something super gratifying in other people knowing about my successes and failures. Call it vanity, neediness, affirmation junky. Whatev. I just don't want to be on this crazy journey alone. I want people in on it.

Heck yes I just bounced Ella on my knee, played Chutes and Ladders with Jack and face painted a rockin' butterfly on Evelyn's face - all at the same time. Who can do that? I thought breastfeeding and stirring a pot of soup was an accomplishment. I have come so far as a mother. Um, and I also just walked Cody, pushed Ella in her Little Tikes car and helped Jack and Ev ride their new bikes around the entire block. It's true.

If I had been documenting all the kick-ass things I've done in the last two years since I started this blog, I would have like 30 vests full of badges in my closet. Currently I only have one with just a few pieces of flair, at least according to this live document. And that just won't do for a girl who is about to turn 30 in a few days. I need all the badges, back slaps and atta girls I can get, especially when it comes to mothering and wifing and friending and on and on and on.

So, here we go. Some new vests - fully flaired - in my closet this year. Year 30 (technically 31 as my dad says, meaning I don't need to have a big bash or many presents for my bday this year because my official 30th was last year. Whatever Dad). Happy birthday to me.

Today's Badges

• I started this thing called Timer Time. Jack and Ev are no longer taking rests. It's driving me crazy. I need to not see them for at least one hour during the middle of the day. So, for my sanity and their safety, we've started Timer Time. We bought colored timers from the Dollar Tree (Thanks for the recommendation from my friend Corinn) and both of them have to stay in their rooms for 60 minutes until the timer goes off. They are only allowed to come out to go to the bathroom. If they yell to me or ask questions - discipline. They can do whatever they want in their room - except yell to me or ask me questions. Get it? It's worked fabulously for two days. Ask me in a week how it's going. We'll see. But I'm encouraged today.
• I took all the kids in their rain boots down the street to a large puddle and let them search for worms and get totally disgusting and wet. I almost barfed at one point as Jack proudly showed me his hand covered in worms. Bleh. I told him how awesome it was. Ew.
• I've also decided that if I'm wearing an outfit that I feel cute in and it doesn't get dirty, I'm wearing it two days in a row, maybe even three. I'm on my second day of a sweet Arcade Fire t-shirt. I'm on day three of a pair of black skinny jeans. Why stop the good thing I've got going here?!!

The Short-List Badge

I heard about it over drinks with a friend last night. It's a list. An inventory of your best qualities, of what makes you unique, set apart. Simple enough. But you don't meditate, reflect and make it; your friends do. It's not the "I Am" list, it's the "You Are" list. They get to tell you how they see you. Sign me up. I'm quick to admit I'm an affirmation junkie. However, there is one concern, my friend warned -- the short list. Someone always has a short list.

My friend is all too familiar with this scenario. She was, in fact, short-listed. It's not that she's not special. It's just that her friends are seemingly special-er. "I looked at her list and I thought, I want that list," my friend said. "Mine's so little and hers is so long."

Isn't that so true? I look around at my unusually talented, gifted and fabulous assortment of friends and I think to myself, "I want their list."

I want to sacrifice for others like my friend Julie.

I want to be patient like my friend Laura.

I want to hostess like my friend Tanya.

I want to parent like my friend Amy.

I want to be thoughtful like my friend Beth.

I want to be fun like my friend Kasey.

I want to cry and laugh like my friend Sara.

I want to encourage like my friend Bree.

I want to understand film and write screenplays like my friend Andy.

I want to be smart like my friend Rebecca.

I want to be entrepreneurial like my friend Apryl.

I want to maintain friendships like my friend Liz.

I want to have style like my friend Steph.

I want to care about people like my friend Amanda.

I want to write like my friend Joy.

I want to be disciplined like my friend Larissa.

I want to be inviting like my friend Andrea.

I want to have insight like my friend Lynnelle.

I want to be analytical like my friend Katie.

I want to be genuine like my friend Molly.

I want to be creative like my friend Susan.

I want, I want, I want. Trust me, there's more.

All of my girlfriends have long lists and I want everything on their list. Sometimes I want it so bad that it makes me resent my list and theirs. Like, why do they all get to be so great and I just get to be, well, me?

I spend a lot of time comparing lists. I spend even more time trying to turn my list into their list. I try to take pictures like Laura. I try to knit like Bree. I try to decorate like Susan. I don't like photography, knitting or decorating. It's just that list-envy gets the best of me and I take on things that aren't really a fit for me instead of focusing on/feeling comfortable with/enjoying my list.

After my friend divulged her list resentment, she shared with me a realization she had after the traumatizing episode. "I spent the whole day just kind of feeling bad for myself," she said. "But then I just heard this voice (from God) say, 'You're not in a competition. I have given you these friends as a gift.'" Where she lacks patience, her long-listed girlfriends excel. Where she struggles with compassion, listening, caring, cooking, you name it, her friends shine. "It's like my friends are my perfect complement. Where I'm weak, they are strong and vice versa."

What a shift in thinking this was for me. Where I am weak, you are strong. What a gift my friends' giftedness is to me.

Thank God I have my friends. Thank God I have them to fill in the gaps for me (and to cook me amazing meals, invite me to amazing parties, make me hair bows and bibs, take my family pictures, knit me sweaters, edit my writing, pray for me, decorate my house, give me feedback...). Thank God I don't have to strive to be like my friends. Thank God I get to be me and they get to be them. And thank God we're all better because of it!

The Should-Bes Suck Badge

Every time I open the hall closet I see it. If I need to grab a game for the kids, it's there. If the weather turns cold and I need a jacket, it's staring me in the face. If we've run out of tonic (or gin!) in the fridge, I know it's peering down at me. (We pride ourselves on very diverse storage compartments in our home!).

I saw it in my Family Fun magazine at Christmas time. I remember the article, "Our Box of Memories," so fondly. I was excited. I had to make it. It was going to revolutionize my organization skills, unite our family and become a sought-after heirloom for generations to come. It's a fabulous idea. Your family has this box and each night at dinner they write a few sentences about what they did that day on an index card. They store each day's card by the date in a photo box. This is their way to capture the little moments -- a new fish, a friend's visit, a trip to the zoo trip, etc. Then you write on the same card on the same day the next year. Seriously, what a keepsake.

Well, it's not so much a keepsake at our house as it is just another box that falls off the top of the other boxes when I try to grab something from underneath it. I bought our special box with high hopes and great intentions in January. I'm reporting today that it's still empty. Not a single note card has a memory written on it.

I tell myself I'll get to it. I put it on my to-do list. I know I should be doing it. Sometimes I don't even open the closet just so I don't have to see it. Unfortunately, I didn't have that luxury today.

Jack and Evelyn wanted to do Play-doh. Ugh. I knew the stinkin' special box was sitting on top of the doh box. But I had to get it. So, I opened the door, reached for the box I needed and the special one fell and hit me on the head. Really? Really.

I'm tired of having that box in my closet. In fact, I just feel pretty tired of having any "should bes" in my life. They're so draining, aren't they? I can't even count how many times I say that to myself in a day.

When I get out of my car, I think to myself, "I really should be better at keeping my car clean." Then I walk through my garage and I tell myself, "I should be taking some time to organize this mess." I step into the entryway of our house and I see the scuff marks on the wall and the shoes scattered everywhere and I chastise myself again, "I should be doing something about this." No matter where I go -- the kitchen, the bedroom, the bathroom, the den, the backyard, the laundry and storage rooms (should be times 10) -- I can't escape the should bes or the could bes or the would bes.

After a recent bout of "I stink as a mom, a wife, a friend, a woman, I should be doing so much more" depression, I've realized I have but one thing to say to the should bes.

"You suck."

I'm serious. Take away the should, the could, the would and just let me BE. All the joy, all the fun, all the special moments that come with having a family are ruined when I'm living in should-be land. I'm never content enough, never secure enough, never thankful enough, never good enough. I'm always stressed out, always comparing myself to others, always wanting to acquire more, always questioning myself. I'm just no fun at all. Ask my husband.

Well, I'm starting now. I'm saying "You suck" to the should bes and I'm just going to be. I'm going to be in the moment, enjoy it for all that it is, not all that it could or should or would be, if only I...

When I get into my car, I'm going to smile about the strawberry stains on the carpet and thank God for the fun memories I have of picking them with my kids. When I walk into my house and I see the scattered shoes and accompanying dirt, I'm going to thank God for my three active, healthy kids, the ones doctors told me I would never have. When I see the mess in my kitchen, I'm going to thank God I have so much food to eat and so many sweet kitchen appliances (hello, bread maker and Kitchenaid mixer!). When I walk into my laundry room ... um, OK, let's not push it. Laundry will always blow.

And sometimes when I get into my car and I'm really annoyed at how messy it is and I don't feel thankful, that's OK, too. When Jack and Ev are fighting and I want to pull my hair out and send my kids away, that's OK, too. I'm going to rest in just being ... a woman, a wife, a mother, a daughter, a friend ... on a journey of both God and self discovery. Psalm 137.

A Reminder Badge

I am very forgetful. I'm praying that it's not cerebral atrophy and hoping it's just post-prego/breastfeeding hormones and the busyness of chasing three littles all day that are affecting my memory. On two different occasions this week I couldn't remember Ella's birthday or her middle name. It wasn't even a quick stumble of words or right on the tip of my tongue; it was completely lost!

Today at the library Evelyn and I (and Ella, too, but she was sleeping in her seat) enjoyed our first Toddler Time of the year. Jack attended a preschool class by himself. I was gearing up for at least one tantrum or embarrassing outburst during the 25-minute class. But Evelyn was perfect. She clapped when she was supposed to, talked appropriately when she was called on, danced with all the right moves. So rather than be thankful and savor that moment and love on my sweet girl, I began to compare her to the other children in class. "Wow, glad Evelyn isn't doing that. Whew, happy that isn't my child." I'm gross. I know it.

After class finished a mom approached me whom I hadn't seen since last Spring's session. She walked right up to Evelyn and looked at her forehead. "Oh, how is your little head? The last time I saw you, you had a big owie." Whoops. That's right. I forgot about that.

The last time we attended Toddler Time, Evelyn was running around like a wild animal. She pushed a child out of her way, tripped over a ginormous stuffed sea turtle and hit her forehead on the corner of a wooden box. The bloody goose egg appeared instantaneously and after much insistence, I rushed her to the doctor. (I earned like 10 badges in the span of about 15 minutes.)

Busy comparing my perfect daughter to the "others" this morning, that little incident had slipped my mind. Thank you, lady.

And so I was gently reminded (again) that at any moment either of my daughters and/or my son could slip into this "others" category. In fact, the majority of the time when we're out, I would classify them as "other". Why is it that for one brief moment of good behavior I forget that at any second, I could be one of the "others'" mothers or an "other" myself?!

I'm finding more and more that I'm so quick to judge, so low on grace and so slow to thankfulness.

I'm certain I miss out on the blessing of joyful occasions because I'm busy comparing myself, my husband, my kids, my house, my whole life to others who apparently don't have it so good at the same moment.

But just give us a minute or two and something certainly will go awry and we'll all fall into a different category -- the frazzled mom, the annoyed dad, the naughty kids, the dirty-floor house, the disorganized life.

Here's to hoping that next time I'll remember -- "There but by the grace of God go I."

Create Your Own Music Album Badge

Sometimes when I'm driving and in a hurry I get a little (let's be honest...a lot) impatient. And when I get impatient I begin to shout at other drivers and make impolite gestures and facial expressions at them (a lot). I've tried to stop. I really have. But occasionally a big "Get the frick out of my way" just comes bellowing out.

I used to not think much of this bad habit even after having kids. I figured they were too young to understand the depths of mom's driving depravity -- honking, flashing (lights, that is!), yelling, pointing. You get the point. A few weeks ago in the car Evelyn started raising her hands in the air and shouting, "Come on." Whoops.

So, I've started this new thing when a "Move it" or "Come on" or "Get out of my way" suddenly springs forth, I turn it into a song and pretend I'm not really shouting. It really seems to be working, for now at least. I follow the same protocol when I've accidentally screamed too loudly at one (or all) of the kids. I smile, laugh and pretend I was just singing a really loud song.

Already this week I could have recorded an entire album of "I'm not really yelling but I am" songs. I might actually have enough on the playlist to begin working on a greatest hits compilation.