Greetings from the Planet Ya-Ba

This morning, all three kids were playing together in their room.  The house was so nice and quiet, and I was trying to seize the moment and get some good Bible time in.

Alas, it didn't last, and out the door of the room they came, terrorizing the living room, begging for snacks (breakfast had ended about 15 minutes before, so, of course, they were starving) and trying to climb into my lap.

Hoping to get my few moments of solitude with God back, I asked "Guys, what happened?  You were playing so nicely in your room."

Joshua, without skipping a beat, answered "Our spaceship got turned into a toy spaceship."

"Oh yeah?  Who did that?" I inquired.

"The magic fairies."

"I see.  What was the spaceship?"

"It's name is the Freeze Family Spaceship."

"Ok, but was it Anna's bed?"  (That bed is on its third generation.  It has been spaceships, pirate ships, trains, planes, and everything else you can imagine.)

"No," he answered,  "It was our WHOLE ROOM!"

"Why don't you go back to your room and fly to Mars?"

"Because Mars doesn't LIKE US!"

"Ok...how about Jupiter?"

"JUPITER DOESN'T LIKE US EITHER!"

At this point Anna piped up and offered "Jupiter doesn't like us, but I know a planet that does...the planet YA-BA!"

Seeing my opportunity, I said "All right then, head to the planet Ya-Ba."

Anna looked at me with wide eyes.  "YOU know the planet YA-BA?!", she asked incredulously. 

"Yes, and they would love to see you." I answered.

So they all went frolicking back to their room.  As I write this, I can hear Joshua yelling "MATTHEW!  STOP IT!"  This is an attempt to get me to come in there and reprimand Matthew without getting in trouble for tattling.  However, I think I will leave it to the Ya-Banians to work it out. 

Giveaway!

Howdy readers!  I keep hearing that people read this blog...and yet no one ever comments.  Come on!  Comments make a blogger's day!

So, I am going to test the waters with my first giveaway.  Here's what's up.  I have done 10 "Things Overheard at My House" entries.  I think it is time for a top ten list.  Below are links to all ten entries.  Comment with your top three quotes overheard at my house.  At the end of two weeks, I will do a random drawing of all the commentors, and the winner will win a lovely Mary Kay prize package full of whatever goodies I find on my shelves.  I am not sure what I will find, but I guarantee it will at least involve a pedicure set.  Awww yeah.

(Yes, I sell Mary Kay.  I'm just not very good at it.)

So, prove to me that you are reading this, and comment away!

Things Overheard at my House #1
Things Overheard at my House #2
Things Overheard at my House #3
Things Overheard at my House #4
Things Overheard at my House #5
Things Overheard at my House #6
Things Overheard at my House #7
Things Overheard at my House #8
Things Overheard at my House #9
Things Overheard at my House #10

Just Another Friday Morning at My House

Well!  I think we've had enough of the heavy topics now, don't you think?  Moving on...

This morning was another time of hilarity in my house.  It started off with the children jumping around our bed at around 5:45 a.m.  This has become their routine.  Throughout the night, all three children will eventually migrate to our bed, and then around 5:45, one of them - usually Matthew - wakes up and starts banging around.  Pretty soon Joshua is up, and they jabber away at each other while experimenting with how often they can pull my hair until I growl at them.  At some point, all this nonsense wakes up Anna, who yells at them for waking her up.  My husband and I play the "maybe if I act like I am so zonked I can't hear them my spouse will take them out of here" game till around 6:15 or so, at which point one of us caves and ushers them all the to the living room, leaving the other one with a satisfactory extra 5-10 minutes of blissful, quiet snooze time. 

This morning, I lost the game.  It's ok - I've won the past two mornings.  It was my turn.

Breakfast was fairly uneventful, although Anna did have a traumatizing moment when she realized she had spilled milk on her giraffe.  Mommy and a dishrag saved the day.

No, the real fun can about ten minutes later when we were all getting dressed.  I was trying to get clothes on in my room when I heard Anna holler "MOM!  I CAN'T REACH MY SHIRT!"

Considering I'd left her shirt folded on the couch for her, I thought this statement was a tad peculiar, so I headed out to the living room and found Anna, stripped to her underwear, dangling over the back of the couch trying to reach her shirt.

"Anna, what's wrong?"
"I can't reach my shirt behind the couch."
"Why is your shirt behind the couch, Anna?"
"Well, I accidentally threw it."

Accidentally?  How do you accidentally throw something?  Accidentally drop it, sure, but throw it?  Hmmm.

Anyway, I retrieved the shirt and we went on with the morning.  This particular morning, Joshua had to dress in jeans and a cowboy hat for a music program at school.  Matthew immediately confiscated the hat and proceeded to run around the house yelling "YEE-HAW!  I'M BUZZ LIGHTYEAR!"

Right movie.  Wrong character. 

We were just almost ready to go when Joshua let out a scream.  Not a I'm-not-getting-what-I-want scream, a I-am-really-hurt-get-to-me-quick scream.  Sean and I rushed over to him to discover his thumb turning purple.  Apparently, Anna had pulled out a rather large Rocko (yes, Rocko is still alive and well) and had been playing with it when she dropped it to the ground...or, rather, on Joshua's thumb.  She started crying as well because she'd hurt Joshua and didn't mean to.  Sean and I each had our arms wrapped around a child, comforting and soothing, when here comes Buzz Lightyear, still wearing the hat.  Mr. "Me Too!" decided that if there was hugging and attention going around, then by golly, he ought to be a part of things, so he wriggled his tiny but sturdy frame in between Joshua and me and began demanding a hug.  I hugged him quick and sent him to his father while I assessed the thumb.  It wasn't bad, but it did need ice, so I got Joshua all set up with that and kissed his thumb to make it better in the process.  Matthew saw this and ran over to insist I kiss his thumb as well.  Whatever. 

After all thumbs were iced and kissed and all tears wiped away, we headed out the door for the day.

About 10 minutes late. 

But everyone got out the door, everyone got where they needed to be, and no one wound up in the ER.  Or shirtless.  And Matthew gave the hat back to Joshua before heading into daycare.

Some mornings, that's really all you can ask for. 

We Need Each Other

This blog is usually about my crazy experiences as a mother of three.  I avoid pop culture topics and controversy for the sake of telling funny - and sometimes moving - stories.  However, there is an issue among American motherhood today about which I am completely passionate, and it has cropped up once again.  So I am going to take a moment to get up on my soap box and say something, because I am sick and tired of the media using me and other mothers as pawns in their little financial game.

TIME magazine recently stirred up a hornet's nest with their most recent cover:

This picture and headline have created an online storm of shouting, mostly from proponents of breastfeeding that are ready with swords drawn to defend their choice of providing nourishment for their child - whether anyone is actually fighting them or not.

Let me be clear on something.  I am in favor of breastfeeding.  I breastfed all three of my children.  I did it in public, and I did it as long and as much as it worked for my child and me, which was different all three times.  I have no problem with a breastfeeding mother gracing the cover of a nationwide magazine.

That's not what offends me.

What offends me is this culture the media has created that aims to set mother against mother in the name of selling more magazines.  I am offended by magazines, blogs, talk shows, newspapers, and all other outlets of communication creating controversy among women just because fighting and backbiting sells better than solidarity and togetherness.  The perpetuation of the so-called Mommy Wars is not a phenomenon of everyday motherhood.  It is a plot of editors to create a storm that they can then "examine" with "experts" to destroy relationships and make mothers feel poor about themselves.

Motherhood is hard.  I have done hard things in my life, and I am here to tell you - motherhood is hard.  It is often unforgiving, physically exhausting, and emotionally draining.  On any given day, you can pour your heart and soul into the adventure only to have it broken and thrown back in your face.  Any mother who has found herself walking into walls from fatigue, discovered that the reason she can't get the poop smell out of her nose is because it's under her fingernails, or held a child's hand while they are strapped to a hospital bed with tubes coming out of their body knows that this journey is not an easy one.  Motherhood is not for wimps.  To survive it - to thrive in it - we need each other.  We need the Fellowship of Mothers.  I need to be able to post on Facebook how tired I am and immediately have six moms say "yeah, me too."  I need to have moms I call to both cry and laugh with.  I need a posse of women to contact when my child comes down with an unidentifiable rash or comes home with bruises - emotional or physical - from the mean kid at school.  I need other moms, and other moms need me.

What we don't need is to be against one another.  We do not need to fight over breastfeeding, bottle feeding, staying at home, going to work, when to potty train, how to vaccinate, sugar vs. no sugar, how to discipline, and so forth.  We do not need to stand against one another on those issues that we each agonize over and about which we ultimately have to make our own decisions.  And the truth is, in day-to-day life, I don't have these fights.  Most of the time, we discuss, we agree to disagree, and then we go for coffee.  The only place the Mommy Wars is really being fought is in the media, and the writers and editors know how to push just the right buttons to fire people up and tear them apart.  We don't need that.

We also do not need to be told we are not mom enough.  No, I have not read this article.  I don't plan to.  You know why?  Because a  few years back, I resolved to never again read an article or watch a news clip that made me feel bad about being the mother I am.  I used to read everything, and I found myself crying myself to sleep because I could never measure up to those women in the magazines.  It took till the third child to realize how much time and energy I was wasting on that nonsense.  I have several friends who became mothers after me, and some of them asked me what advice I had for them.  My biggest piece of advice is this: there are exactly four people who know what is best for your baby...you, your husband, your baby, and Jesus.  After that, people may give advice, but they are also welcome to shut it.  What works for one baby does not necessarily work for every baby.  You've got to make the best decision for your family on so many issues, a million decisions every day.  You are not going to make the right decisions every time.  But you are the expert on YOUR child.  No one else, I don't care how many credentials they have.  And again, you do not need the editors of TIME magazine or any other news source challenging your ability as a mother.  Don't waste your time and energy on that crap. 

So women  - hear me out.  Stop being used.  Stop allowing the writers and the editors and the captains of media out there to dictate your relationships.  Be strong enough in your opinions that you don't have to shout back so loud when you feel you are being threatened.  Don't fall into their trap.  Fight for the Fellowship of Mothers, and band together the way we need to.  You are doing fine, you are a great mom, and you have great women around you on whom to lean and with whom to cry.  Put down your swords and go get coffee.

And then watch this video from Johnson and Johnson, because it's beautiful: