Priviledged

Sometimes, I watch my husband throw a dance party for the kids or play an hour of hide and seek (in a 1200 sqaure foot rambler, with very few hiding spots) and am amazed at his patience to 'play' with the kids.  I get either too bored or too competitive too quickly.  If a kid takes a card out of turn in candy land, I am ready to snatch it back and accuse them of cheating...that is if I haven't dozed off from sheer lack of interest in such a game.  (Sidenote:  I have yet to do either of these things, though I am not saying the day won't come). 
Shawn has a gift of playing.  He can lie on the floor for an hour, wrestling, playing "pretend naps"  (oh, yes, Shawn has indeed made this a game and the kids love it...puh-lease, I can't imagine how they'd respond if I tried to pull this on them) he will turn on music for dance time and occupy them so effortlessly.  I admit I am jealous. 
Recently, Shawn has been working quite late...this week he has not been here before bedtime at all.  Sometimes, I forget this.  I forget that he has not had time with them.  I forget that I have had nothing but time with them.  I forget that he desperately wants to be with them, whereas, I desperately want an opportunity to pee alone. 
If I step back and ask myself what would I do with my kids if I only had 0-6 hours with them during the week...I can guarentee you, the laundry would wait, the dishes would wait and the garbage could just pile up.  I would be hosting a dance party.  I would be hiding and seeking and i would possibly even play a game of candyland where I pay attention and don't care if someone cheats (I said possibly).
It's silly for me to even compare myself to my husband, but I have.  And what I have walked away with is that I have an amazing guy who works his hiney off and when he can come home before bed, he does everything he can to invest in our kids and give them his attention.  I have also realized that it is a priviledge to do the day to day, car loading and unloading, gymnastics and swim lessons, grocery shopping and dentist appointments, teeth brushing and potty tries...trying to mix some fun in between.  And well...if dad gets to be the "fun" one for a few hours at night...that's okay...in fact that's great.  Because, even if they were fighting and yelling and crying...I got to be with them all day.  And in the moment it feels like I want to run away...but if anyone tried to tell me I couldn't be there or take that from me...I would be devestated. 
Don't get me wrong...it is definitely a perspective easier kept as I type while they all sleep in their beds.  Because if you caught me last night on the 4th potty try after I had put Mandy to bed...you would have seen a mom caught oscillating between the decision to start screaming in a fit of anger or curl up in a ball and start sobbing on the bathroom floor.  But after the fact...lamenting that I was doing bedtime alone again, I asked myself what if someone told me I couldn't do it for a week...or more?  What then? 
Then I would give anything to place that kid on the potty just one more time. 
Now mind you, this is not going to stop me from teaching Amanda that the potty is not in fact a bedtime avoidance option.  But I am hoping it will teach me that teaching her this lesson is a priviledge and not a burden.  A priviledge to be in the day to day.  A priviledge I wanted...a priviledge God graciously gifted. 

"God's Song"

Brayden recently asked Jesus to come live in his heart.  It is something we are excited about and rejoice over.  It is something we are also amazed by.  This is a kid who used to tell us Jesus is a bad guy and was a general punk when any mention of God came about.  We have seen him opening up, but more recently, we have just seen a sweet softening of his heart and his spirit. 
He is frequently stopping conversation to ask to pray.  He is talking more openly about God.  But the most endearing and frequent thing he does is burst into his God Songs.  THey are just songs he makes up.  A mish mash of songs we sing, songs from church, songs from the radio.  One might go something like this:
God you love us
we love you
we know you know we love you
you are a baby Jesus, newborn
King God you know love
Praise God
Jesus
They are sung in a very high octave with no familiar melody or anything that one might try to catch onto.  (If by a far off chance he does ever become famous...I am saving this video for his first stint on a talk show...it's fantastic).
Anyway...this morning, I hear Brayden in his room.  Usually he runs straight to the TV room to see if he can catch a show before breakfast, but I just hear this high pitched something.  Concerned that something is wrong, but not so concerned as to get out from under my warm covers, I yell...
"Bray, are you okay?"
"Yeah"
"What are you doing?"
"Just singing my God songs"
I was struck with amusing humbleness.  Amused by my mistaking the "God song" for a hurt son and humbled by his innocent and pure offer of praise.  I love that my four year old little guy started his day, praising God, loud and proud, with his own God song. 
Oh what we can learn from my little man.  I think if he had lived in the way back when, he would have had a psalm or two in the good book.  Good, bad, disappointed, Bray is unashamed to take it to God...in prayer or in a high pitched, on key/off key, loud or whispered, original, "God Song".

Favorite sayings as of late

Me:  What should amanda be when she grows up?
Gav:  Hmmm, maybe a police officer.  You know all the naughty things she does?  Well, she'll know what the bad guys are doing and she can catch 'em.

Bray:  Mom, do you have Jake's number?
Me:  Jake who?
Bray:  Jake and the Neverland pirate Jake.
Me:  No, he's not one of my contacts.
Bray:  (big sigh)

Amanda:  My dance, cha cha dance.  My dance Cha Cha dance.  (Cha cha being her word for Gavin)

Gavin:  My toe is bleeding...owwwwww!  (it was nothing)
Me:  You're fine
Gav:  I need a band aid.
Me:  No you don't.
Gav:  I dooooooooo!  (Bray runs from the room and returns)
Bray, holding out a band aid:  Here Gav.
Me:  Where'd you get that?
Bray:   My rescue backpack.
Me, resigning myself to a bandaid for a non issue, just cuz he's was thoughtful:  That's nice, Bray.
Bray:  Nope, it's just what rescue men do.

Cough vs. nap

I'll tell you what, Tony Horton's P90x ain't got nothin on the cough I am battling.  My abs are like rocks.  If I could find a way to use my lower diaphram to cough I would be sporting a bikini bod in no time. 
I am thankful that this is the first and worst of my illnesses this year.  There has been puke and colds and coughs and various other things floating around and so far I've escaped.  All but this.  And this isn't really so bad.  My head is clear, my nose works, my ears are fine.  I just hack a bit during the day and then at night...it is constant non-stop, gut wrenching seizures of coughs that make me want to curl into a ball and weep. 
But I don't weep...there is no time between the last cough and the next. 
Due to this, I am exhausted.  No rest for the weary has a whole new meaning.  My eyes were closing as I tried to lay out breakfast and lunch.  The coffee is disappearing at a rapid pace and napping sounds heavenly.  But Oh WAIT!  Amanda hasn't napped in 4 days...since we went on a little vacation (which was fantastic and I am hoping to find time to write about).  This is stressing me out.  I am waiting till later to put her down today, but I am diligently hoping that this isn't the end.  The end of my one hour a day.  The magic hour where I can manage to get something done, sit for a few minutes to read, write a note, pay the bills, maybe fold a load of laundry and maybe, on a good day, catch a 5-10 minute power nap. 
It's coming and I do not see any weariness in her little self. It is only me who is weary.  I am coughing my way to a better me, while she is contentedly, if not energetically playing tinker toys with her brothers.  Ponytails askew and freshly painted toes...content to be wide awake.  I have a sinking feeling that this sweetness is about to take my coveted hour and turn my whole world upside down. 
Oh dear....
(to be continues)

Today we played

Oh how badly I want to have time to write down the things that happen during the day.  How badly I want to remember!  The days are going so fast.  I see it in the short pant legs on Gavin and the long hair on Amanda.  When did that happen?  I feel as though I don't have time to be the mom I want to be.  However...
Today we played.  We made a fort.  We danced.  I painted Amanda's nails for the first time.  We decorated paper airplanes.  Today I made a point of playing. 
I am tired.  I have been tired.  I will most likely be tired tomorrow.  I am forgetting things, double booking things, and getting overwhelmed by things.  But...today we played.
Today we signed valentines.  Today we practiced colors on our flash cards.  Today we sipped tea.  Today we launched a space shuttle.
So many days go by, where all I remember are the times my voice was raised, my patience was lost or my "goal" was not met.  Today, I choose to remember none of that.  Today, as my kids are racing towards adulthood and leaving me so little time, I am going to remember that we played.