Jenny On the Spot: Caffeinated mom, lover of dancing, glitter and glitter.

from the outside.

I wonder what misgivings I’ve had about others that I’ll never know.

Things are not always what they seem. Things may look easy when peering in from outside… not feeling the heat, not hearing the noise, not living in the mess.

I don’t want to use the fact that I have a third child as my supreme explanation for my shorcomings… it’s not actually the Third, it’s the magical number “3″. For me… just talkin’ about me here…

It’s not that I have preschooler who doesn’t focus. It’s not that I have a 1st grader to educate at home. It’s not that I have a toddler to hold after she wakes in the morning, after her nap and before bed at night. It’s not the fact that I have 2 “older” kids to schedule playdates for. It’s not that the toddler needs to be dressed, undressed, changed, fed, buckled in and carried… By the way, what’s for dinner, and “Mom, do I have clean pants today???”

It’s all of these things together that make me less focused… less willing (and capable) of committing and making decisions. Its all these things that grow the ball of tension that tends to sit in my chest (some call it indigestion…) and take root. It’s all these things that give me the appearance of being flighty, undependable and indecisive. That’s what I think people see…

In fact, I make dozens of decisions every hour. And honestly, if I wasn’t having to tap into my decision bank so often for my 3, then I’d have some decision reserves left for others. Not to mention, memory.

I wish I didn’t care about what I think others think. Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I do. I wish I never did. I know I am doing the best I can, with a reasonable flaw-margin… but when others don’t understand, I try to explain. Then I just sound like a jerk. But then, I’m a jerk if I don’t explain too. Maybe. I don’t know for sure what they see when they look through that window. I just know how I feel. And right now, I feel like I fail more than succeed.

There’s more… so much more… However, I think it’s time to close the curtains :)

So I got up at 3:30 a.m. I made a few lists, and whittled emails to 11 in my inbox… The rest require daylight, the post office, a telephone, or a wee bit more motivation…

Speaking of motivation, I like this t-shirt.

The birds are singing this morning. I’ve heard them lately. Their songs make me feel calm. The birds are making their way back North for Spring. I am ready to welcome a new season.

I just read the above paragraph. The first couple of sentences make me sound like I belong in a straight jacket, or maybe Jack Nicholson in The Shining. Neither of which are truly “happy” places… maybe I need to rephrase… Ah, I’ll do it tomorrow.

If you don’t want to read about someone else’s kids, then you may want to navigate to another website…

Lucy is generating more and more words from her tiny being. Today she spoke the word “beautiful” as we walked past the flowers at the market. Granted, only her mother could tell that was the word the particular sounds she emoted made.

Lucy told on her big brother as I got in the car this morning, “Jo-ah a pewpew.” Joel fessed up, “I farted Mom.”

Joel wanted Lucy to let go of his coat. His voice rose, into “Mommy business” tone… Lucy cooly responded, “Jo-ah coat.” She just makes her big bro melt. He let her have the coat. He loves it when she says his name.

Joel won 1st in his division for “design” at his Awana club’s pinewood derby. Joel is sharp as a razor… about his award, he said, “I got a trophy for my car in design, but I should give the trophy to my dad, because he designed it.” It’s true… there was a tiny camera in it that caught all the racing action :)

Olivia surprised me last night. She didn’t win in speed or design. Bejeweled to pieces, her princess sparkly car just didn’t make the cut. After all the trophies were given for her division, she wept… hard. I did not expect that repsonse. Deep in my private thoughts, I hoped if anyone would get a trophy, that it would be Joel. Joel is very competetive and very jealous. I didn’t want to deal with that beast last night. So, imagine my surprise and my sweet 4.5 year-olds’ distress.

However, I know my girls’ love language – food :) I let her weep. She wept as much I felt appropriate, and then gave her the ray of hope she needed… “How ’bout we go get some ice cream after this.” Tears stopped, smile began to turn the sad mouth to a happy one, and off she went. Joel got his trophy awhile later, and not once did she whine, complain or enter the realm of “hissy-fit”. She just needed some cuddlin’, love, and promise of good food :) This story kind-of reminds me of me last week… I had a trying morning and was crying about one overwelming thing or another and Paul said, “Do you want me to go get you a coffee?” Snapped me right out of that funk. Weird.

My kids. They drive to the ends of the earth emotionally. I swell with pride and wilt with embarassment. I handed Lucy a donut while at the market this morning. As I turned to pay, Lucy began to yell, “Mama! Mama! Mama!Mama! Mama!” Through my teeth, I asked the cashier to excuse me for moment… “What Lucy?” “T-Tew Mama.” And she held her donut out as she thanked me for her breakfast.

Lucy wanted my corndog. I wanted my corndog. Mamma won. I didn’t want the corndog because I have some great obsession with such fine cuisine, I just didn’t know what else to eat that had meat.

Anyway, I watched Lucy throw a fit about her denied demand. Eventually she hit her head on the corner of the kitchen table. Surprise, surprise… in the midst of stomping, screaming and flailing, she got hurt. I held her, and set her on my lap. I tried to kiss the “owie”. She greeted my effort in compassion with straightening her body to get away from this monster who dared deny her the pleasure of a corndog.

As she shot away from my lap, she ran right into the wall of the kitchen island. Unstopped but unbalanced she stumbled her way toward the other end of the kitchen table – narrowly missing another head wound and impressively negotiating her feet enough to avoid what should have been a good, hard fall. She looked like she belonged in a pinball machine… except she wasn’t silver, round and shiny.

As she continued to be mad, my mind wandered… If that is what a fit looks like to a parent here on earth, what does my Father in Heaven see when I throw a fit? Each time any of my children launch into a fit, there is quite frequently some physical consequence – not given by me – a natural consequence. I find myself thinking, “Oh, you’re gonna get hurt, you’re gonna get hurt…” And as hard as I try to protect their bodies from scrapes and bruises, the hurt just happens.

I throw a different kinds of fits over issues with anger, frustration, or discontent. I wonder if my Heavenly Father says, “You’re gonna get hurt, you’re gonna get hurt.” And as much as He loves me and wants good things for me… natural consequences take form.

For some reason, this didn’t post yesterday. So, I’ll try it again…

Click here for thoughts on love in the South…

Click here for “historical” thoughts and insight on the “deeper” meaning of this day of love…

Don’t click here if you are prone to vomiting over the ultra-cutie-cute-cute stuff. If you are a sucker for all things Cutie Cuterson, then, by all means, this is a must-see… found this one at Cute Overload…
Happy Valentine’s Day :)

According to book, The Five Love Languages, the 5 love languages are: words of affirmation, quality time, gifts, acts of service, and physical touch.

I want to add one… food. My kids may not be aware of it, but I think I show them love with food… baking cookies, getting donuts and hot chocolate, huge-mongous free cookies at Central Market, and big ‘ol chocolate bars for Valentine’s Day. Some moms have the creativity to give non-food items, but not me. I’ve tried being and doing differently, but it’s like rubbing a cat the wrong way.

I just watched Grey’s Anatomy. I don’t keep up on TV much, a select show here and there…

But I heard about tonight’s topic – a ferry tragedy, and curiosity got the best of me. Due to tasking (just can’tseem to do nothing while I try to sit a spell), I missed the “how” part of the tragedy. These days, terrorism comes to mind, but I think I heard one of the characters mention a wreck or accident… It doesn’t matter much.

What matters is seeing a fearful possibility on my TV. A picture of what could happen someday. The pregnant lady… how many times, with my 3 pregnancies have I traveled on the ferry? Down on the car deck… I never considered the possibility of cars hopping on top of one another while a person is walking between and pinning one of my neighbors (or self, or worse…) beneath or between. Seeing the dock and smoking ferry… Before my husband worked from home, he traveled to and from every single day on the ferry. Now, many of my friends’ husbands (and friends) travel that way each morning and evening. Living in Kitsap County, it is a way of life for so many here.
I didn’t like it. Too close to home. I don’t like seeing my fears of the unknown played out in color – in my own backyard.

there is wailing and gnashing of teeth…

when:

The phone hasn’t rung once all morning (hence the absence of guilt for not answering, which is my common practice during school time), AND we’ve gotten in some good schoolin’ by noon. Go literacy!

I commit to bringing food for something, and (unbeknownst to me at the time of committing to aforementioned commitment) everything I need is in the fridge or freezer! That rocks sumpin’ fierce.