Motherhood is like a box of chocolates…

(9 months a year for 6 years I have written to the women of MOPS@2BC-  in our newsletter – this was for May 2012)

Forrest Gump may have thought life was like a box of chocolate because you never know what you are going to get.  I agree with good old Forrest, but I would have to say that motherhood is a better take on the unknown.  (Heck sometimes I don’t have a clue how even the next 5 minutes are going to go, let alone a whole day, week or month!)

In my life, I can and have made choices and had free will on my side.  I could choose to a point what I studied, where I worked, what I ate, how much I slept and who I was with, etc.  Motherhood is thrust upon all of us in different ways, but it still hits hard with emotions, love, sleep deprivation and being a little crazy all at the same time.  And many times when faced with what decision we need to make for our kids, we feel lost.  I know I do.  The unknown isn’t always as neat as a chocolate box.  It isn’t easy to predict and of course, their temperament and reaction play heavily into each choice.

Many times I feel like I have selected my favorite “chocolate” (a.k.a. my plan or choice), just to have the sudden rush of missing the mark and failing.  In failing, I become a better parent.  It helps sharpen my awareness and it helps me to relate to my motherhood chocolate box differently.  I start identifying the shapes that I like and that also give my child some freedom and independence.  Those moments taste like warm caramel wrapped in chocolate.  Simply delish.

The harder to swallow moments taste like that coconut nougat that I avoid at all costs and offer to anyone near.  We all have those, right?

My prayer for each of us this summer is to enjoy and savor each bite of chocolate with our kids at home and underfoot.  They won’t be there long, ladies.

Be good to yourself, so you can be good to your people.  Hope to see you over the summer!

Faithfully,

Kristin

Top 10 Truths of Potty Training (READ if you need a good laugh & SHARE if you can relate)

Disclaimer:

This list doesn’t include the negotiating, stomping, whining, crying, cussing, crazed thoughts, questioning God and all of this in the first 15 minutes of a mom attempting potty training.

10.  Previous experience is null and void.  Little Billy won’t be like his siblings Suzy and Bobby.

9. “You know he/she will be potty-trained someday.  You know of any college students in diapers?” = not helpful

8.  “Preschool is in ___ number of months.  Have you thought about trying?”  Really????

7.  How is potty training a child like taking a dog on a walk?  As many times as a dog stops to smell or pee on fire hydrants, your  child will want to visit that many public restrooms.  (and you will be grossed out)

6.  Pull Ups are a joke.  They hold very little and some have “cool alert” feature that is traumatizing for boys.

5.  Rewarding potty training is really children training parents to jump through hoops, clap and act like fools for a little potty.

4.   Some day it will save you time and money.  Not until after it costs you double the time and money.

3.   I would like a treat for every time I ask, “Are you dry?” or “Do you need to go?”

2.   Shopping lists start including pound size M&M’s bags, juice boxes and stickers for tedious charts.

1.   That once you start you will be under house arrest for 5 days shadowing a child that you are deluging with drinks and setting timers to “just try”.

Deep truth: The realization that in the middle of a crowded room, all those people were once potty trained and their parents survived… and I will too.

My Potty Training Resume Experience

Ian, now 9:  was potty trained at 22 months at his demanding.  I spent the whole week crying in the bathroom while reading hundreds of books and making deals with the devil to stop potty training.

Kaylee, almost 7:  was potty trained at 22 months to be like her big brother and she was highly verbal and extremely competitive. It worked but it was exhausting and I would have been happy to keep giving Pampers my money.

Rhett, almost 3:  he could care less and he screams when he is ever near a potty chair or toilet.  He hates all things about diapers and being dirty, but isn’t convinced that he should be out of them.  He will probably be trained when it is his idea or by August 15th, so he can go to preschool!!!  Pretty sure that forcing him to train will provide enough material for his first two years of therapy as an adult.

The saga continues…

Next step is propaganda…  potty training DVDs and books have been put on hold at the library.

Yes this too shall pass… but not without a fight.

Shameless Leap of Faith –  please LIKE, Comment or Share… or all three!!!   Everyone should have a good laugh at my attempt at potty training.  I would love the support.  I am going to need it during this process.

Someone’s chasing me…

Well, not really.  But that is what I think now as I near the end of my 1st week of the Couch 2 5K program.  (3 times a week on the program and I am walking for 15 minutes on the off days to be habitual)

I have teased for years (really decades) that I only run if I am chased.  I have never been a natural athlete or someone who just can’t wait to get exercising.  No matter my attempts in junior and senior high school I still hated it.  I only had rock hard abs at that time and was a size 4 because of how horrible I was at getting serves over the net during drills or running laps for all the baskets I missed.  Poor performance was consistent for me and in my young mind I felt “punished”.  So I started to look at exercising in a warped way.

Now embarking on my 36th year, I can’t deny the importance of exercising any longer.  Especially with the three little mirrors reflecting back to me that I am a hypocrite about exercising to be healthy and be here for as long as God plans.  (which I hope will be my 100th year – - I have a lot left to do and lots of love to share)

So what made this happen… my two oldest love running.  They got this sickness from their cross-country running daddy.  So they wanted to learn how to run on the treadmill on Sunday and at 9 and almost 7 I let them.  I was there to monitor the time and pace.  I let them both run for 10 minutes each.  THEY RAN THE ENTIRE TIME!  Now Kaylee wants to run 2 times a day … sick I tell you.  I am supporting this lifestyle choice.

Wait… I got ahead of myself in my story.  So they got done on Sunday and I was helping them stretch.  They had 220 questions (because no child has only 20) about running including, “Mom, when were you last on the treadmill?”  I replied once in September.  Then they pounced on me and said I need to run as much as them.  YIKES.  So I actually started that next day.  So, I am on day 4 of being chased by someone as I run on that treadmill in my basement.

My “app” calls the voice Allison, but I have renamed her Helga.  She is a former old school Soviet Union trainer with a thick accent and mustache.  Makes me laugh just thinking about all the crazy stuff that goes on between my ears.

Praying I can keep up running and getting to a place where I like it.  I have a plan and I just need to keep prioritizing my to do’s to stick with it.  I do like the alone time it creates.  That might keep me going.

I can do this!!!!!!!  Ian, Kaylee, Rhett and Helga won’t let me stop!!!

Hope you keep moving or get moving soon too!

Silliness = Happiness

Oh me, oh my!  I have only been 36 for 2 weeks and I am loving every minute of it.  It is freeing and liberating in a new way.  I’ve been sillier than I have been in years.  Spreading joy instead of worrying about what others think or if I am doing right by everyone else and seeming serious enough.  It has been GrEaT!!!

Living this way takes me back to my teen years when my parents deemed me one of the perkiest people they knew.  I led a double life back then.  I was perky and down right silly at home and rarely shut up.  But I was nearly mute at school.  I was always worried that I didn’t say the right thing or that I was going to get singled out to be teased.  So I was frozen at school.  Looking back I can see I was robbing myself and others from having a full experience with me.

My life could have been so different if I had had the confidence to be me.  Ahh the teen age years… Times of hormones, stress, rules, freedom of driving, parental difiance and boys!  I am glad we only have to go through the teen years once.  That decade is long enough.  I was thrilled when I turned 20 and to be out of those tumultous teen years.  And I know I didn’t relax until I had Ian.  Then I was “allowed” to be his personal comedian, tickle monster, yard chaser and illusionist making his food disappear as I fed him.  Motherhood helped me to let my silly creep out around short people (i.e. children… mine or others).  But adults were taboo.  I would still think of what others would say to me or about me.  So I kept my silly in check.

Last night I threw all caution to the wind and I broke out my gnarly “hill billy” fake teeth and wore them off and on for an hour at church around the kids and people I had dinner with.  We laughed so hard and hooted and hollered.  And it felt G~O~O~D!

So good that I am going to start being my goofy self even more.  No need to not be light and merry with the love and blessings I have in my life.  I am happy and I know it and my face will surely show it!  (Especially if you see my new teeth… I will post a picture a dear friend took when she emails it to me)

Warnings…

Here are few we see in our daily lives:

- Surgeon General’s Warning

- Caution hot liquids (at McD’s and Starbucks on your coffee)

- Caution slippery surface

- Contents may explode under pressure.

I have never smoked because my mother did an excellent anti-smoking campaign for me growing up.  I rarely chose to order a hot beverage anywhere and if I do I always ask for room for ice.  And I walk like a little old lady on slick surfaces because I think it helps with traction.

My favorite is contents may explode under pressure.  This is so true of my life and my reaction to it.  Some days there is no fire lit under me and I still proceed just fine.  But the days I have added pressure of a conflict, deadline, or having to be 3 different types of mom to 3 different types and ages of children I am close to my maximum pressure point.  I am primed and ready to explode.

This happened multiple times over the past two weeks while my 6-year-old daughter struggled after her routine tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy.  She was down and way out in pain, exhaustion, hunger and overall unpleasantness with the worst breath ever.  She could usually be found on the couch with our oversized heating pad wrapped around her head and a sports water bottle with ice near.  My 9-year-old son was my right hand man.  Until day 4 that is.  Then he was done with all of us and especially his almost 3-year-old brother that adores him.  And my wound up, silly 3-year-old would be loud and crazy the whole day.   He would slowly approach his sister and say, “Sissy? Boo-boo? Owwwwww!!!”  Then turn on his heel to make noise, destroy the living room or karate chop his big brother.

It was like chasing my tail, hitting my head against the wall and being in a dead-end all at the same time.  So much chaos and so many different needs.  Not to mention my own.  Being sleep deprived and crazed I did my best not to lose it.  Friends were so sweet to bring us meals, bring items to distract the kids and grab necessary items.  (yes we ran out of toilet paper and milk)  And my parents were a huge help on a couple of different days to help Kaylee and I rest.

But on day 7, I lost it.  “It” was all my contents that were under pressure.  As I sat trying to fold 6 loads of washed laundry that had become a towering mountain, I started thinking crazy thoughts.  You know the ones that sleep deprivation bring on.  They can include, but are not limited to: “I am the worst homemaker, mother, nurse, cook, planner, etc.” – - “I am never going to get us all back on track.” - -  “My kids are going to remember this always as the worst spring break ever.” – - “How do I keep folding and sorting laundry when I just want to fall over and sleep on it?” – - “It is never going to get easier.” – - etc., etc., etc.

Hello Crazy!  My contents were so under pressure that my sweet husband popped into check on me and even asked how much longer I needed on my own since I was losing it.  Now my contents were turning me into a hot mess and ugly crying.  Exhaustion is just the pits.  All my negative self-talk and emotions were not how I feel about myself or my family on a normal day, but when the reality is heavy and the outlook is more of the same… you have every right to lose your marbles when your contents explode.

You have to have a team ready to help you recalibrate your settings for how much pressure you can take.  I did and with some much-needed sleep I am back to my usual crazy level of pressure on a day when all 3 of our blessings are at school.  These days help erase the rawness of those two weeks and I actually can’t wait to see all 3 later this afternoon.  Well, until they break into a crazy fight over who can talk about their day first… or who was the fastest runner from the bus stop… or who is smarter or funnier than the other… (I can go on… but for your benefit I will stop)

So be mindful of your contents and how much pressure you can stand before you explode.

Might as well be November 1985…

For the past week I have been with my sweet family enjoying the sun of Florida. It was a perfect time to get out of our routines and just play. But now that we have been home a couple of days, I can’t stop thinking about last Sunday’s news.
Whitney Houston passed away. Gone too soon. It had happened and I could barely catch the news with 3 kids and a hectic theme park schedule. She would cross my mind and I would look at my husband and he just knew I was heartbroken. I even walked through the airport and got teary eyed at just a glimpse of her service on the tv.

In my heart when I heard the news, it was November 1985. I was 9.5 years old and knew every word of Whitney Houston’s songs. I was thrown back in time. My family lived in the country, so alas no MTV. But I would spend hours listening to her tapes and waiting for her songs on the radio.

I was only 9 and starting to blush when I got teased about boys. I felt that Whitney understood love and life. And especially boys. I would belt so loudly into my hair brush for hours knowing I was her only back-up singer. The entire decade of the 80′s was by her tutelage. Even one of my first real movie dates was The Bodyguard with Kevin Costner.

No matter what the cause of death may be, I know that it will never taint my view of her and her beautiful gift from God. I will choose to remember her with one of my favorite songs from November 1985… (just watched the real video tonight since I missed it years ago). Enjoy!

How will I know if he really loves me??

This post is dedicated to my sweet friends who are also so heartbroken for the loss of this great voice from our childhood.

Dear Local Coca-Cola Distributor,

Dear Local Coca-Cola Distributor,

I feel should explain your recent drop in sales in the KC Metro area.

It all started innocently enough after college when I started working in the real world for the “man”. I had an early East coast territory and each morning it was a struggle to be chipper, attentive, productive and resilient against the no’s. They started everyday around 7am and that was hard for me. So I medicated. I mean drank the magically caffeinated beverage of Diet Coke. One was never enough, so every few hours I would wander across to the break room with my jingling change. I would feed the magical machine my 50 cents. Ah…I can hear the can dropping down to me still. Then my drawer was soon emptied of coins and then I would scavenge through my car and ask friends if I could borrow from them. Not pretty. I knew I had to do something.

So logically, I started packing in my own 12 pack for the office fridge and I would have extra ones under my cubicle desk. This went on for years. I was kind enough to share from time to time with co-workers and friends. And when we would go out for lunch, I would drain two to three refills of the delicious caramel colored liquid without even thinking about it. Ah… The fizzy bubbles.

Then my life changed almost 10 years ago and the office stash wasn’t needed anymore. I could just load my fridge at home of all the Diet Coke I could afford. I became a stay at home mom. I started operating on sleepless nights and wet kisses. And for the past nine years it would have been scandalous to find no Diet Coke cans in my house. (of course, cans were my delivery mode. The snap and crack of the tab opening and listening for the sound of the fizzy, bubbly goodness… DELISH)

But just recently I have decided I am worth more than what I have been consuming. It just can’t be good to be pouring artificial, yet delicious gunk in me each day. Surely I can kick this habit. I feel like I am over the hardest part and now I have the confidence to walk away. My Dad has a saying that I hear often. It is, “better living through chemistry.” He says in tongue in cheek, because he is sure that we all have gotten into such a made for us kind of world that we are missing the good stuff. I am going to start getting away from this type of living. It can’t be what fuels me anymore.

So dear Local Coca-Cola Distributor please take note. After years of only choosing restaurants if they carried your brand of soft drinks, I am parting ways. There I admit it. Whew.

I am done. I want to stop the damage that I am sure aspartame is wreaking on my joints. I want to be a better role model of health for my 3 sweet children. (if they aren’t allowed sodas…why am I?)

Of course, water will be the best choice for me. And switching hasn’t been too bad. And this change will be a help to our bottom line in two ways.
bottom line #1: financial responsibility
9 years of staying home
x  12 months per year
——
108 months
x  30 days per month
——
3,240 days of staying home
x      2 average Diet Coke consumption per day
——-
6,480 Diet Cokes consumed in 9 years
x. .30 average price per can of a 12 pack at $3.50 at a retailer
——-
$1,944.00 spent on Diet Coke !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

bottom line # 2: my rear
I’m pretty sure that Diet Coke has zero calories, BUT it tastes best with things that are  salty, sugary and juicy, which   have a gazillion calories!!!!!!! Hoping that this helps my overall health and helps me focus on the temple God gave me.

So thank you for your faithful service and stocking of Diet Coke to help fuel my days and wake me up. I no longer will be needing your services.

Looking forward to a soda free me from now on. I am joining my sweet husband in his refusal of sodas in his diet. He gave them up 7 years ago for Lent. Guess it is true that no one can make you change until you are ready. But I am ready now!!!!

Good bye for good.
Kristin Wooldridge
aka Water Woman

A Pawn in the Game of Life

Ahhh… I love two-year olds.  They are the great ego equalizer.  If you hang out with one for any amount of time you will find out quickly that they feel you are just a pawn in the game of life.

There are different types of two-year olds.  Here are a few:

> Know it alls: these are the kinds that have been talking and asking questions for at least a year and so they assume they know everything

> Lovie Dovies: these are the ones that will smother you with love and need a lot of attention

> Loner: this type rarely wants help and wants to be left to play by themselves.  Do not force sharing with this one!

> Car Salesperson: doesn’t know a stranger and can’t wait to leave you to meet someone new

> The Runner: This child could be a 2-year-old Olympian if there was a contest for fastest speed running into a parking lot.

> Lil’ Teacher: the one that will teach others to do anything and everything

> Boo: the shy ones that jump before you say a thing

> Too cute for their own good: This one can bat their eyelashes, give wet kisses, and laugh endlessly even at themselves to the detriment of what any adult near them is trying to do.

Honestly the list could go on forever since all kids are vastly different.  My experience of two-year olds so far has been with a know it all/car salesperson and boo/minoring in Know it all.  Today I truly learned what kind of two-year old my third child really is.  He is a Too Cute for the Own Good.  Let me tell you how I finalized my decision.

I enjoy participating in ministry work.  I had a reason to stop by a local non-profit today to introduce myself and give a rough sketch of an idea.  Nothing earth shattering, but yet very important.  So important I put on lipstick before I went in the office.  I buzzed in right after picking my 2.5 year old up after a full day of Parent’s Day Out.  (meaning I had 6 hours of no children today yet I didn’t make it to do this on my own)  I thought it would be quick and he would be fine.

Oh he was fine alright.  He was quiet at first and smiled.  However an internal egg timer went off and after 7 minutes he made sure he batted his eyes and said hi to all the women in the office.  He then decided his next move would be to drop his sweatpants to his ankles and run around the office like a crazy flasher.  Thank goodness the women in the office all laughed and thought it was a riot.  I quickly got his point and we bee-lined out of the office.

My children have taught me grace, flexibility and most of all I can laugh at life much more.  I was more myself with his help.  We laughed all the way to the van.  He is a delightful little devil!

At this very moment…

My family is not outside riding bikes, swinging on our super cool playlet, or going for a walk. To be honest we are chilling out the modern way after a crazy 24 hours of multiple fun events for school and scouts.

Here is what we are doing at this very moment… (can’t believe I am going to admit this…)
> I am blogging from Amon’s new iPad after spending an hour playing fruit ninja with Rhett, messaging my mom on Facebook, and glancing at Pinterest at things I may never make, cook or do.
> Ian has spent an hour on Amon’s android phone calculating crazy math problems, playing fruit ninja, and now he is listening to k-love being streamed live and singing out loud
> Kaylee has spent an hour on my iPhone watching ballet performances on YouTube (including an amazing one with a man missing a leg and the woman missing an arm), then she laughed out loud watching babies being silly, now she has on headphones and is creating cheer moves to the songs streaming on k-love
> Rhett barely napped and wanted to watch a show, then he moved on to fruit ninja with me, he then played with his fire trucks and tried riding our dog Harley.
> Amon has missed all this because he is unplugged completely and is napping after a hard week and lots of hours helping with the pinewood derby for cub scouts.

Shocking!!!!! I can’t believe I have admitted this. And I will also admit that we have all been happily getting along in the same room (except Amon). No mid afternoon fights or WWIII moments. This can’t be our new thing to do all the time, but today I think it has provided a healthy outlet for each of us based on being together and independently entertained.

Now to sign off to watch Ian play with Harley. I’m going to play fire trucks with Rhett and listen to Kaylee sing from her creative center that Jesus loves her and enjoy being together… Well until someone gets hurt…

Oh shoot!!! Ian just hit Rhett in the side of the head with a hard dog toy… Oh my!!!

Maybe technology is safer!!!! Never a dull moment in our home.

Take a Knee or Two

In a previous decade of my life, I would have claimed to be an athlete.  In junior high and high school, I played school sports.  I sweated it out with lots of hot summer volleyball practices and played basketball in the winter.  My desire to be with some friends is why I played.  I didn’t play well.  I would get too caught up in the next play or what could happen to change the game.  Both of which I had no control over. (That was early in my type A-ness)  It was actually what lead to the demise of my athletic career. (Ha!)

I remember going to practice out of obligation to the team, but it was a not seeing the forest for the trees kind of moment.  I know now that our coach saw something in each of her girls.  She knew with desire, hard work, and teamwork we could all be great.  I didn’t get the memo.

I saw the differences in natural ability and desire.  I realized that I didn’t want that path as much as my teammates.  I stuck it out for a while longer than I should have, but it was a good experience for me to have a coach who cared.  She cared not only about the plays but the players.  I can clearly see God in this way too.  He cares more about the players than the plays we make.

Can you imagine how  many basketball playboards God is working all the time and at the same time?

He should guide our plays and we should follow them.  It sounds easy.  But I struggle everyday in challenging myself to control the playboard on my own.

Need to keep my focus that God is my coach.

Not only in the overtime moments in the game of life, when all is tied between good and bad.  When all I want is another free throw to win the challenge.

I need to concentrate and feel his direction on my playboard.  To be in the quiet and loud moments of my life, searching for His council and the next play.

I need to not just take a knee… but two!