I love Pottery Barn, but I am not a fan of their hefty price tags. Imagine my delight when I saw these pillows in the window of a little linen shop during our weekend trip to the beach. Eddie & I went back later to see how much they were. On sale for $7.99 each sure beats the Pottery Barn price tag of $25 a piece. I got 3 for less than what I would have paid for one if I’d ordered from the PB catalog and had to pay for shipping.

The store, on 64th street in Ocean City, MD, had several of the pillows, but I only got the starfish. Since I’m using them indoors I didn’t want to go overboard with the nautical theme.

They’re supposed to be outdoor pillows, but I’m using them in the living room. Hopefully the durable fabric will hold up a little better to two toddlers and a dog who loves to bury her bone in my couch cushions. 🙂

(Also note the new portraits of the kiddos. They should be hung lower, but they’re up high for a good reason-so they don’t get knocked down and bonk the head of a certain three-year-old who thinks the sofa is his personal long-jump course.)

PB’s catalog picture vs. My thrifty find

Even as adults we all have things we know we shouldn’t do, but we do them anyway. For some people it might be having one more drink at a bar, calling an ex-boyfriend, or eating a third piece of cake. For me it is going to Chuck E. Cheese. Deep down I know I shouldn’t do it, but it always seems like a good idea at the time.

Today I had a meeting for my new job. My supervisor told me to bring the kids with me, so I did. After the meeting it was about 1:00 and they hadn’t eaten lunch. They had both been so good for the hour and a half I was meeting with Marie. (That was mainly due to the fact that we held the meeting in the childcare room with a plethora of toys geared toward their age group) Chuck E. Cheese was only about a mile up the road and we were going to drive right by it on the way home. We were supposed to go last week and I had to cancel at the last minute and disappoint Nicholas. It was the perfect storm. I caved.

Now, I should state for the record that I actually have nothing against Chuck E. Cheese itself. I’m not afraid of the germs, and actually the one here in York is very clean. The noise doesn’t bother me. I do not have a problem organizing groups of children. I’ve organized huge groups of elementary school children on field trips, after all. Also, I thoroughly enjoy the way that the over-stimulation has a counter intuitive way of calming down my hyper three-year-old boy because of his sensory issues.

But I made a few mistakes this time. First, I decided that it would be too cumbersome to lug our double stroller around inside between all the rides and games. That was dumb. Totally should have brought it. Instead I chased Nicholas around for an hour and a half with a 20 pound baby hanging off my hip like a limp noodle.

Second, I actually tried to sit down and have a meal with my children. Twenty minutes after we arrived and ordered our food (one individual size pizza to split 3 ways) it was delivered to our table. That meant that I had to pull poor Nicholas away from the roller coaster simulation game, which resulted in mega-meltdown #1. I forced him to sit at the booth, screaming at the top of his lungs, red tear-streaked face and all, while I calmly said Grace and started feeding the baby. Eventually he did come around and eat with us.

Third, I did not attempt to discipline other people’s children. There were only about 10 kids in the entire place since it was a Tuesday afternoon. They were all under adult supervision. Some kids even had more than one adult with them. And yet, there was one little boy (And let me just say that there were three adults with this kid. Three. Just with him. He did not have any sibling there.) who was just roaming around following Nick. That would be ok, except this kid was about two years old and none of the three adults with him were paying any attention to him at all. His mother was playing ski ball in an entirely different section and his grandparents occasionally playing games to win him (or themselves) tickets and occasionally just being lazy and sitting in a booth talking amongst themselves. I felt bad for him so I didn’t say anything when this little boy climbed onto a moving ride that Nicholas was on. After the ride was over I pointed him to his mom, who totally didn’t seem to care that she didn’t know where he was.

Then there was another little girl who was about three. Her mom wasn’t paying a lick of attention either. She rode about 5 rides that I gave her money for (There was no way Nick would use 50 tokens by himself) . That was followed by an “Oops, I poked your baby.” and a trip over to us while we were eating to shove a piece of pizza in Abby’s mouth. (I did say something to her about that.) Seriously, people. Watch your children. I should have said something to their parents, or at least to the staff.

But the real drama came when we were finally out of tokens and needed to leave. That was an all out throw-myself-on-the-floor-scream-hit-my-mom-hide-between-the-coin-machine-so-you-can-reach-me kind of tantrum, which was followed by a run-away-from-you-in-the-parking-lot kind of tantrum, which was followed by a scream-all-the-way-home kind of tantrum, which was followed by an I’m-not-taking-a-nap-I’m-just-going-to-scream-some-more-so-my-sister-can’t-nap-either kind of tantrum after we got home. (Mega meltdowns 2-5, if you will) I may or may not have said something along the lines of “If you value your life you will get in that fire truck bed right now.” If I said it it didn’t work because there are still two screaming children in my house as I type this, despite the fact that we have been home for over an hour.

No, I should not go to Chuck E. Cheese ever again. And yet I know I will.

Sigh.

Sometimes you just need a break. Unfortunately, young moms don’t get very many of those. I did sort of get one yesterday after a mini-nervous breakdown on my part prevented my husband from going to his softball game. However, during that “break” I still made everyone dinner, helped give the kids their bath, read the bedtime story, and put the baby to bed. I also took a “break” on Sunday while Eddie took the kids to church. I wasn’t feeling well so I didn’t go, but during that “break” I wrote out our weekly meal plan, went to the store, carried all the groceries up two flights of steps, put them all away, and drove back to church to pick everyone up because we are down a car while Eddie’s in in the shop. I’m not complaining, well, ok, I am, but I also know those things all need to be done and it’s my job to do them.

All of these tasks seem so trivial when I look at them written down like this, but when you are raising young children, particularly when one of them has special needs, it’s the day-to-day tasks that get to be the most overwhelming.

Take today for example…

I woke up at 5:30, gave the baby her bottle, went back to bed until 6:30 when she cried again, put her in bed with me for another hour, then finally woke up for good at 7:30. Then I got myself dressed, made the kids breakfast, got Nicholas dressed, changed the baby, realized the OT was coming for Nick’s first appointment of the day at 8:30, turned on the tv for him while I frantically cleaned the kitchen (because that’s where they have their session and 3-day old dishes don’t make for the best ambiance), let the dog out, packed their bag for our next trip, ate a bowl of cereal, checked my email, kept the baby & the dog out of the way and tried to actively participate in his OT session, rushed to get shoes & socks on everyone & gave them a quick snack, drove to play therapy, got a call from my sister on the way saying my grandmother has passed away, dropped of Nicholas, took the baby to the bank to get money to pay the play therapist who does not take credit cards, went to Starbucks with the baby to break a $20 and get myself a hot chocolate, picked up Nicholas, came home, gave the baby a a bottle, changed her, put down for a nap, changed Nicholas, put on a movie for him to wind him down before his nap…as I write this it is about noon.

(Had to take a break here because I got phone calls from my dad & my aunt.)

Ok, I’m back. Anyway, the point is that, surprisingly, the things that overwhelm me the most during the day are not the big, daunting tasks, like the fact that I need to take my three-year-old to psychotherapy. It’s the dishes, the dust, the damn dog. The thought process is more like, “Really, it’s not enough that I need to drag an infant and a toddler to x-amount of appointments today? That my grandmother just died? That I’m sick? That I just sacrificed my business? That the baby was up x-amount of times last night? That in addition to all these issues I just took on a part-time job? I still have to deal with this?”

And the truth is, yes, no matter how many appointments need to be scheduled in one day, no matter how sick or exhausted or overwhelmed I feel, there will still be dirty dishes, an obnoxious dog to discipline, and countless other tasks that no one else is going to do for me. I’m still holding out hope that one day I will come home from a doctor or therapy appointment with the kids and magic elves will have cleaned the house and put away the laundry and will offer to babysit while I take a nap. Until then I will take solace in the fact that it is Tuesday, and if I can get the kids to bed on time I will have a solid 3 hours to sit on my butt and watch American Idol, Glee, and Parenthood. Maybe I’ll even get up during the commercial breaks to put away the toys that are scattered around the living room or do the dinner dishes, but probably not. Because I happen to think that after all of the crazy things that are happening recently, I deserve a break.

And I really hope that the rest of my family and friends, particularly my sister & aunt Cathi, take one too.

My grandmother is dying. This is not news to us, she has been under hospice care for almost 2 years, but a few days ago she took a turn for the worst and it is probably only a matter of hours now. Eddie & I went to see her yesterday, it is a sad time for the family but because I knew her very well I can say that Mommom most certainly would not have wanted to linger like she has with no quality of life, so it will be a blessing when she goes. Rather than focus on the current state of her fragile body & morphine drips, I’m going to use this post to focus on the impact her life has had.

“An excellent wife who can find? She is far more precious than jewels. The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain. She does him good, and not harm, all the days of her life. She seeks wool and flax, and works with willing hands. She is like the ships of the merchant; she brings her food from afar. She rises while it is yet night and provides food for her household and portions for her maidens. She considers a field and buys it; with the fruit of her hands she plants a vineyard. She dresses herself with strength and makes her arms strong.
She perceives that her merchandise is profitable. Her lamp does not go out at night. She puts her hands to the distaff, and her hands hold the spindle. She opens her hand to the poor and reaches out her hands to the needy. She is not afraid of snow for her household, for all her household are clothed in scarlet. She makes bed coverings for herself; her clothing is fine linen and purple. Her husband is known in the gates when he sits among the elders of the land. She makes linen garments and sells them; she delivers sashes to the merchant. Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her:
‘Many women have done excellently,but you surpass them all.’ Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands,
and let her works praise her in the gates.” Proverbs 31: 10-31

I have spent the past year in a church group that focused solely on this verse and how it is something that women can aspire to, but no one will actually achieve, blah blah blah….I know this woman. She was my Mommom, not the one I saw last night, but the one I lived with for three years, the one who was the most dedicated wife, mother & grandmother anyone has ever seen.

I have to smile because I know exactly what she would do if she read this & saw me compare her to that woman in the Bible. She’d roll her eyes and say “Gloryosity! Honey I’m not so special, this is what a grandmom’s supposed to do.” And I guess it is, but the special thing is that she’s the only person I’ve ever met, and probably will ever meet, who’s actually been able to do it.

I am a good mother and I know that, but can’t help but feel a tremendous sense of guilt every time I lose my patience over something stupid-like couch cushions-because my grandmother taught me better than that. I remember a time when my sister accidentally broke a crystal candy dish that had been Mommom’s mother’s. I knew it was very special, because she had told me it was one of the only things that she had of her mom’s and she had fond memories of it from her childhood. I thought Mommom would be upset, or angry, or disappointed. I thought Charlotte would get in trouble. I thought Mommom might cry. Nope. None of the above. She just calmly picked up the pieces and threw them away. Later I asked her if she was upset and she gave me a strange look like she couldn’t understand why I would think that. She said, “Honey, it’s just a candy dish. Your sister is a child.”

To my grandmother children were hands-down the most important thing in the world. She would go out of her way to surround herself with them, watching the lawn-maintenance worker’s boys while he cut several lawns on her block, babysitting us, volunteering at the church nursery or Vacation Bible school program, the list goes on. I’m sure it happened, and I’m sure her own children remember differently, but I never once saw my grandmother lose her patience with a child. I did see her punish children when they needed discipline, but I don’t remember her ever being angry at one. I definitely don’t remember her ever losing her patience with me.

What I do remember is a woman who loved to feed people. Simple but special recipes that I am glad I learned and still make for my own family. It is still a family joke. She literally would not sit down at the dinner table, always jumping up to get something for someone. I remember chocolate eclairs, snowball (frozen chocolate milk), hot milk cakes, crab soup, meatloaf, spaghetti, and instant mashed potatoes. I remember midnight snacks like Bugles & cream cheese. I remember being allowed to help in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with a bowl of pancake batter because I was too little to see over the counter top. I remember setting a fire in the kitchen while helping to make rice crispy treats, but I didn’t get in trouble then either. She calmly put the little fire out and said, “Oh honey, you can’t clean up with a paper towel near the gas stove. Paper catches on fire.” Lesson learned.

I remember games like Hot Butter Beans, Stone School, Stage & Punchanella. The only prop you need to play any of these is a rock, or in our case the red topper from the plastic stacking rings. I remember feeling so special because when we wanted to play “store” Mommom would let us take the real food out of her pantry and line it up along the fireplace. I remember a white pull-out couch w/ two twin beds in it. I’ve never seen another couch like that, but it was awesome. I remember sitting on that couch & reading There’s a Monster at the End of This Book and The Penguin That Hated The Cold, books I have hunted down & now read to my own children.

I remember calling to ask if I could move in while I went to college just a few miles away. I remember how she loved it when we as a special treat we would go to Taco Bell every now and again for lunch. I remember how impressed she was with the quality of their plastic nacho container. She saved several of them to reuse at home. “Why would anyone throw something this nice away?” I remember scoffing at the collection of mismatched plastic containers in her pantry, and I’m sure she’d love to see the Cool Whip & Country Crock containers that I now have in mine.

I remember how it could easily take her over an hour to take her daily walk around the block because she would stop and talk to Alma, or Dot, or Bev, or any one of her thousands of friends. She seemed to know everyone and they all adored her the same way I did. Because she deserved it. Because my Mommom was the kind of woman that God wants every wife and mother to aspire to be. She is the woman in Proverbs 31.

Update: a few days later Mommom passed away. I read this post at the funeral service and my father gave the eulogy. The funeral home opened a temporary wall to make more room for the service, but so many people came that it was still Standing Room Only. In his speech my dad said, “Tuesday morning Heaven became a better place because my mom entered the gates. How many people can you say that about?” He was right.

Seeds of Encouragement