... When There Just Aren't Any Words

The bright side of not being able to nurse:
Tot and sister get to help!

We all know there are bad days... and then there are bad days.  I find myself having more of the latter these past few weeks.  Health issues that have led me to wean my baby are part of the problem. The adjustment to taking care of three kids is a contributing factor, too.  And then the I'm-so-tired-I-can't-remember-when-my-baby-was-born-so-please-don't-ask-me reality often turns a bad day into a bad day.  For these days, there just aren't any words.

But I found an exception.

I recently sent a text that read: "Yesterday was such a challenging day, I almost had a breakdown.  Instead I just said the 'F word' a hundred times."  Not one of my proudest moments.

Usually my kids are the ones who leave me speechless, but, occasionally my husband does, too.  For instance:

1.  After the two toddlers were in bed, my husband was on the floor "playing" with the baby.  He gave me a sheepish grin.  "Guess what I just did?"  Grin got bigger.  "I just gave Gus some chocolate ice cream!"  You just gave my 3-week-old baby chocolate ice cream?!  No words. 

"The only time I don't get mad when I share my bacon is when I get to
share it with my kids." -Nick
June 2014

2.  I momentarily set the baby on the living room chair, which spins, so I could be hands-free and attend to something else.  Miriam and Noah flocked toward Gus.  They began spinning him on the chair.  When I reported this incident to Nick later that evening, he gave me another sheepish grin.  "Oh, I taught them how to spin the baby."  Oh, really?  Did you?  Dead silence. 

3.  Noah is entirely obsessed with pirates, carrying a foam pirate sword with him wherever he goes, including his bed.  A dozen times a day, he hands me a sword and says, "I'm Peter Pan!  You're Captain Hook!  Fight, fight!"  We start slashing our swords.  Recently he began narrating, "I cut off your arm!  I chop off your leg!  I cut off your head!"  Again, when I report this to Nick, he said, "Yeah, I know.  That's how we play."  Ah, no big deal.  Maybe dismemberment is just a one-year-old boy thing?  Zip.  Zilch.  Nada.

Our Pirate, June 2014

We've been blessed to have three kids before our fourth anniversary.  I would compare these four years to a merry-go-round that induces morning motion sickness.  Nick, I bet, would compare them to the most thrilling roller coaster of his life.

"Mary Poppins"  June 2014

When Nick and I first met in a college seminar class, he claims he was attracted to me because I showed up late, in sweats, with coffee, and sat in the back corner every day.  He's lucked out, because I still show up late, wear sweats every day, and am attached to a cup of coffee.  Clearly, I was not interested in this class and paid no attention to anyone else who was in it.  So when he approached me after class to ask me to a dance, I politely had to ask, "Who are you?"

Eleven years later, I can go on and on about who he is.  But I'll leave it at this: Nick loves being a husband, and he loves being a tot.  Even on my worst days, I still win because he is my "Free Parking" in Monopoly, my "Province" in Dominion, and my "city" in Settlers.  (That's top-notch romance).  I'm grateful for all the times Nick has left me speechless, because those are the moments of impact. They are the memory-builders.

So, for all those times when there just aren't any words, those Basement Words will have to do: I love you.

6.26.2010

...When Two Hands Aren't Enough

 "But Mommy, I need help!  I don't have enough hands!"  Miriam started to get an anxiety attack as she attempted to clamber up into the minivan while securing all her princesses within the grasp of her little fingers.  All I could think was, I know the feeling.

Now that there are three young ones in the house, I find myself on the verge of my own anxiety attack, shouting, "I only have two hands!  You need to WAIT!"  To which Miriam whines (in case you want the full picture), "But waiting is too haaaard!"  So far, life with three (age span of 37 months) is actually not too different than life with two, except in two ways: (1) I'm doing everything I was doing, only on even less sleep, if that's possible; and, (2) there are moments where things are exponentially more challenging.

Our newest tadpole, Augustine "Gus" Gregory
5.10.14

I've been coping with the sleep issue by continuing my 1-2 cups of coffee a day.  And, YES, that is while I am nursing.  I've also decided to make the most of my awake hours by increasing one of my favorite hobbies: reading.  I think I've read four books* since Gus's birth, compared to the one book a month I had been able to read pre-Gus.  So that's pretty cool.

What do I do during those exponentially more challenging moments?  After screaming, "I only have two hands!" I remember that they are, in fact, only "moments," usually lasting no more than 45 minutes.  They are finite, and in retrospect, never quite carry the "I-want-to-blast-everyone-to-outer-space" intensity as they do in the midst of the emotional furry.  When all three kids are screaming uncontrollably at once for three different reasons, I place each of them in a separate room, with the doors shut (of course), muster up a mustard seed's worth of composure, and start tackling one door at a time.  Yep, this is how I cope.

All my helping hands

Thankfully, I have four little hands that help me throughout the day.  When they're tired of coloring and nose-picking, they help me by sweeping the floor.  [TRANSLATE: Grab a broom the minute Mom is reaching for the dustpan and send the pile of breakfast leftovers scattering the floor once again.  Fight over whose broom is whose.]  When they're bored of sword fighting and climbing, they help me entertain the baby.  [TRANSLATE: Find the exact moment Baby falls asleep in swing, and start pushing the swing faster than Tot pushes us at the park.  Giggle hysterically.]  When these four little hands have finished building Arendelle and playing the piano, they help me fold laundry.  [TRANSLATE:  Quickly unfold all pieces that have been folded, and turn them into a rocket ship.  Make Mom sit in the back as we blast off to the moon.]

Once the day is done, I wonder about these four little hands.  I wonder if the hours they spend making Stone Soup in the backyard will manifest into serving chicken noodle soup at a homeless shelter.  I remember how just the other day Noah saw Miriam crying over wanting the toy he had, so he gently went up to her, saying, "Here, Miri-bella."  I hope those sharing hands will find their way onto a school playground soon.  In instances when I've discovered that those four little hands have left toys in the grasp of the two tiniest sleeping hands in our house, I pray that those receiving hands will find a way to follow the Good they see.  I just need to remember that I don't only have two hands, because God's lending me His every step of the way.

Biggest Blessing: An extra pair of hands was here to help!

*I need to make a plug for a book I recently read.  It was so good, I couldn't put it down and made my husband read it aloud to me during contractions.  Dead serious.  Check it out: Wonder by R.J. Palacio