Terrible Twos bring Bearable Blues

You ever see that kid in the grocery store showing out....I mean really cutting up and think to yourself  "if that was mine I'd ______________"?...........

Yeah, I hear ya. I've thought the same thing. 

While I have thought about and desired to write countless times, today I actually MADE time for it to happen. Mili and Maxx are asleep in the car (don't gasp, it's running and it's cooler in there than it is in here and from where I am sitting I can see and hear them), Nori is watching a movie, and Nevie is at school.

I pretty much just cried the entire thirty minute drive from Wal-Mart to my house. And I need to vent this out like I have done so many times in the past.......May I?

So, last night, Nori really put on a show at Michael's parents house. We had some delicious ribs with Mr. G's signature sauce over rice, and  homemade slaw, beans, corn on the cob and rolls. It was amazing! Well, after the meal, my sister in law and I were cleaning up the mess when I looked up and little Nori, without being told, was cleaning as well. She was wiping tables and chairs, carrying her grandparents' plates and glasses into the kitchen, she even held the dust pan when I was sweeping. It was precious and incredibly thoughtful for a 4 year old. She seemingly wasn't seeking praise as she did all of her work silently, careful not to draw attention to herself. Blown away, I knelt down and cupped her face. I kissed her softly, told her how proud I was and told her there might be a special prize in her future. Now, in 6 years of having children, I can count on one hand how many times my girls have gotten a toy, other than on a holiday of some sort. And I am not really big on rewarding "being good". But this was beyond good behavior as far as I am concerned, and warranted a lil something special. She was so excited! It was literally the first thing she talked about this morning. So, after dropping Neva and my niece Rylee at school, I, Nori, Mili, and Maxx headed to Wal-Mart. We had about 15 good minutes...... Then, Mili started. 

At my old job, as a preschool teacher at and then director of, an inclusive preschool, I have worked with all sorts of children. I had the most precious angel with down syndrome, I had a couple kiddos with various degrees of Autism, several with ADD/ADHD and one with ODD. I also dealt with countless tantrummers and fit throwers. I thought, I kind of knew what I was doing. I mean, there was never a situation that I couldn't handle. But with Mili, I truly draw a blank. I confided in a friend with a gorgeous and sweet  child (that just so happens to be autistic) that I was concerned that Mili might have something going on. I also  found myself at her last check up, begging Dr. Chard to help me. "Is there  something wrong with her?" I asked with tears in my eyes, as Mili screamed and launched her shoes across the examination room. Dr. Chard is equally direct, and comforting to me. I just love her. She told me that Mili was fine. Just strong willed and still adjusting to not being the baby. She refreshed me on tantrum 101, "ignore, do not respond, do not give in....then praise the good behavior" etc. and she assured me that it WOULD pass. 

At her worst, she would ruin every trip to a restaurant, every ball game, the walk inside and back out of the church, the grocery store, and every outing of any kind and pretty much had rendered me a hermit. Think "ruin" is a harsh word? It is not, I assure you. For those of you who have dealt with a head banging, screaming, kicking tantrum thrower, you totally  understand my wording. For those of you shaking your head that I "allow" that type of behavior, well, you've never had a head banging, screaming, tantrum thrower. Just because Mili behaves this way on occasion, and your child may not, doesn't mean you're a master parent and I am failing. And even though your child is behaving like an angel and is watching quietly as mine blows the windows out with her piercing screams,  it doesn't mean my baby is some sort of demon. Mili is a beautiful, intelligent and incredibly sweet child. It's not her or me. I had two children before Mili and  I have changed my parenting style very little in the last six years. I think Neva might have thrown one or two fits, but they were nothing to write home about. Nori, now she had a little attitude from time to time. But I handled it and I thought I had this terrible twos thing in the bag. But nothing that I have dealt with as a mother with the other girls could have prepared me for Mili. After months of tantrums, we had  finally KIND OF gotten things under control. She was still hot tempered and dramatic, but what two year old isn't?....That's typical stuff. Everything was going great. I was able to go and do things again. Then Neva started school a couple weeks ago, and Mili seems to have regressed back to some of her old ways. I don't know if it is directly related, but that is definitely when it started. It's not as bad as it was, but it's pretty tough. 

So back to Wal-Mart today. Mili had already had two spankings (don't judge) upon our arrival at Walmart. So, it wasn't the best start. Once we were in, Nori picked out a little $5 pack of kid make-up for her prize. And we started shopping for gifts for the birthday parties we have this weekend. Mili wanted out of the buggy, and reluctantly, I obliged. She looked sweetly and excitedly at the toys, but never asked for one. Which is good, because with the morning she had, the answer would have most definitely been "no". But as I went to leave the toy section, Mili began to scream. Like, really loud. I pretended not to notice and kept walking. "Mili, let's go. It is time to go" I said calmly. "NOOO! I NOT GOING!!!" she barked back and continued to scream. I felt my own temper starting to erupt as I do not tolerate being talked back to disrespectfully. I continued to walk and was approaching the end of the aisle. Mili was several feet behind me at this point,  but still in view....and definitely within ear shot. I gave the illusion that I knew what I was doing, but secretly wondered, "what do I do when I get to the end of the aisle?!?!?! I can't keep walking, she'll be unattended....But I can't stop, because she will 'win'...".  SO I cut the corner, out of her sight and stood there. I had one eye ball on her. She continued to scream, tearless, and was glued to her spot. I had to wave a couple passerby's away, as they stopped to help thinking she was lost and crying. They looked at me judgingly. Finally, realizing she wasn't affected by my absence, I walked back to her, picked  her up and put her in the buggy. I didn't speak to her. She screamed louder and louder and began to flail. This was astonishing to me, considering how far she'd came with her behavior. This was like square one all over again. She was arching her back and just throwing a hissy fit.

 I felt sick to my stomach. My nerves felt completely and utterly shot. Everyone, and I do mean EVERY one was staring. I can't say that I blame them, really. It sounded like "torture on aisle 4". I could feel how annoyed they were and a felt an overwhelming desire to both snap at and apologize to every person I passed. A couple people tried to speak to her "awww whats wrong baby?" But mainly, there were  whispers and stares and judgment. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. All I wanted was to grab milk and a few groceries....Why couldn't everyone just understand? Then, the nicest lady walked up and said sympathetically and confidently "good for you for not giving in! I know it is hard, but she will tire out soon". And while I SO appreciated her words, her niceness just jerked the tears right out of my eyes. And once they started falling, I couldn't stop them. I was embarrassed of my emotion and walked away quickly. Another stare, pulled a reaction from me, I said "I know it's not ideal, but I have to get groceries". Mili was still screaming. Perhaps louder. The stares were abundant. Just countless. I smiled to give the illusion that I had it all under control, though I knew my face revealed tear stain. Finally, flustered, emotional and completely unable to think, I gave up. I needed so much more than kid make up, birthday gifts and milk.... But I just bailed on the shopping trip. I headed for the register. "What about Nori and Maxx?" you might be thinking. Well, they were walking/riding silently--thank goodness. I finally found a lane that wasn't just ridiculous, although there would definitely be a wait. The cashier, seemingly angry with life today, looked down the line at us, her new customers, and rolled her eyes. She said something to the customer she was currently waiting on, something I couldn't make out (over the screams) but said customer made it obvious that it was about us, by looking straight at my buggy and responding to the cashier matter of factly. Then again, perhaps I was just paranoid. I was burning red with a lump in my throat and fighting off a tantrum of my own. I was mad at myself for feeling embarrassed of my child and mad about my lack of emotion control and for not having the upper hand during the tantrum. I was mad at the rudeness of strangers, who I assumed were jumping to conclusions about Mili and about me. I was mad at Mili because in my heart I know that she is capable of better. In that moment of anger and frustration, another sweet stranger squeezed my shoulder and she quietly said, "it gets better". I forced a smile, but with it came a couple more tears. Just like a hug from Mama during a tough time would always simultaneously help me, and make me cry worse, the kindness of those strangers released my tears, but calmed me immensely. As I swiped my debit card, Mili relaxed in the buggy and started sucking her thumb quietly.

 I walked to the car, with tears streaming my face. I loaded the stuff, then buckled all the girls. I, then got into my seat and put my face in my hands and sobbed silently. I let most of it out....Not all, because who has time? That would be an all day session.  As I put the car in reverse and began to back up, I noticed Mili was already asleep. Nap time had brought out the worst in both of us. 

So as you go about your business after stumbling upon this post, grocery shopping, eating out, going to church or whatever it is that you do, if you come across a mom with a screaming toddler, please don't judge her. And even though I know it is hard, try not to stare, either--she's embarrassed enough. Don't think to yourself how big of a failure she must be as a parent because your kids "would never"....Please understand that she did not choose this, but is trying her best to handle it. Please understand that as annoyed as you are, she is a million times more-- I assure you. Do not assume she is oblivious to others feelings, or doesn't value their time because she ignores the screams and goes about her meal or her shopping-- she is just following doctors orders. Do not believe that the child is lacking discipline, because in most cases this is FAR from the truth. Do not blame the child, because regardless of how it looks, it is not their fault. Please give her a warm smile, or a shoulder squeeze, or a "good for you" or an "it gets better". Pray for her patience. Pray for her other children. Pray for her lil tantrummer. Lift her up instead of kicking her when she is down. 

Even if you are the superior parent (which is awesome), try to realize that most of us are just mediocre, winging it and hoping for the best.We are here with our kids, trying our hardest, loving them with all of our hearts, perhaps breaking down or blowing up here or there, messing up constantly  and learning from our mistakes, but still we are here, sacrificing and tirelessly devoting every moment and shred of energy......And as tough as Wal-Mart (or any other outing with kids) can be, there's no place we'd rather be....than right there with them. That's gotta count for something. 

I love my smart, funny, sweet and beautiful little Mili. My child that fits no mold, but her own. She is perfectly Mili: challenging and strong willed and totally irreplaceable. The keeper of my heart.  

Total Hypocrite

 I am human. I live in the same society that you do. The one that doesn't acknowledge anything over a size two or God forbid has a dimple in it as even remotely attractive. I live in the same botoxed, chemical peeled, filled, enhanced, rejuvenated, lypo'd, nipped and tucked world that you live in....And it's pretty easy to get down on yourself sometimes, isn't it? Maybe it's just me. But I spend way too much time picking myself apart.... Here are a few of the things that really bother me about myself:

• My weight. It's one thing to be heavy, but I carry it weird. I have all this extra weight, and it is proportioned in a way as if I am still pregnant.
• I have psoriasis.... You may never see it. But it's there and it's not a good time. 
• My skin. It is caught somewhere between still being pubescent and prematurely aging. Awesome. 
• Umbilical Hernia. EVEN if I could lose the weight, and EVEN if I could regain a remotely decent shape and EVEN if I came close to thinking about a two piece bathing suit again--I'd have to show off this giant lump in the middle of my belly. 
• Stretch Marks. I had a few from the first three pregnancies. Maxx ruined me.

And my newest low self esteem causing attribute:

• Thinning hair. In the last month, my once thick head of hair has lessened by half. It is falling out in a fashion and at a speed that I could never consider normal.

Well, I hit the highlights anyway.

I sat in the examination room of the clinic today, waiting to be seen for this nagging cold that I have been ignoring. I found myself secretly thankful to be there so that I could have an opportunity to nonchalantly ask about my hair. Everyone in my world has told me it is due to stress or is post pregnancy related and that it would correct itself in time. So, in trying not to overreact, or further stress myself thus worsening the situation, I agreed to wait it out. Even though in my heart I worried that it was something other than stress and it would continue until I had not one single hair left. I sat in my exam room crying. Sobbing, actually. Partly because I was sick and fatigued. Partly because I glanced behind me on the paper covered table where I sat, and saw a pile of hair that once was mine. Partly because I could still (quite vividly) feel mom's  precious and pitiful feverish head laid over on my shoulder from 3 years ago, as we waited for that exact clinic to do some of the preliminary tests that would ultimately discover her cancer. But mainly, I cried because I realized that I am a total freaking hypocrite. 

I flashed back to a day, where my sweet lil Mama was crying over her hair that was falling out. I remember seeing the hair everywhere, and feeling sad for her. And scared for her. But I remember thinking "who cares about hair?"  I even cut mine off to prove to her that you don't need hair to be a beautiful person on the inside. It was my view, that hair was the least of our concerns and I didn't want her to waste a minute crying over it. Then, I snapped back to present day and realized I was squalling over mine.

What. A. Hypocrite. 

It's really hard facing a huge change like losing your hair. Cutting your hair off is one thing, you are in control of that. But when it is happening without your permission--that is absolutely petrifying. And my situation is SO minute compared to what she was facing and what she was going through on a day to day basis. Mine may continue, or it may stop tonight. Time will tell. Hers? She knew the odds were against her ever having her thick head of hair again after possible damage from the radiation. Comparing our similarities and our differences, I felt absolutely horrible. I wished sooo badly that I could apologize to her for not understanding and perhaps being a bit more sympathetic. But I stand by what I told mom. Her hair was the least of our concerns. And She was beautiful without it. And there were such bigger things to worry about and countless more things to be thankful for.

I thought about her body and the stages it went through as the disease progressed. How it conquered her slowly.... She lost energy, her hair, the ability to eat, the ability to think clearly, and eventually the ability to stand-- amongst SO many other things, yet she remained strong as could be. Scared maybe. Crying at times, obviously. But still strong. I cried harder and harder as I waited and reminisced. But that cancer, it never got that beautiful heart and amazing spirit. The cancer was beaten to the ground by those attributes. The most important attributes. Suddenly, my tears stopped. 

I left with an antibiotic for the bronchitis. Which officially makes 3 people on antibiotics in my household. I  left with a referral to a dermatologist for my hair. Although the dr seems to think we need to take a look at my thyroid. But more than anything, after my trip down memory lane and the drying of my tears,  I left with a new perspective. 

I don't want to be misleading...I am still scared about my hair. And I didn't have an epiphany that made me ready to break out the hot pants and tube top. I didn't leave full of confidence and proud of all my aesthetic shortcomings. But, I did leave thankful. I am thankful that my lungs are healthy and breathe air in and out with ease.... The same air that allows me to chase my babies through the yard and giggle and pillow fight and blow their bobo's after they've been cleaned, and sing their fever away. I am thankful for my legs that dance goofily and make little girls laugh hearty belly laughs as our living room transforms to a private little dance party. The same ones that kick a soccer ball around in the yard on a nice warm day. Those legs can lift little girls into the air and they instantly transform into super-heroines flying high above the earth looking for someone to save. I am thankful for ears that can hear the soothing popping and cracking of a fire as we roast marshmallows for messy smores. My ears often hear little whispers and giggles, when little girls are supposed to be sleeping....I hear them praying with their innocent little voices, and I know I am doing a little something right. I am thankful for life experiences, good and bad that reveal themselves in the lines and imperfections of my skin. Without those experiences, where would I be? Who would I be? I am thankful for the ability to eat delicious foods and laugh over a hot meal with family and friends. I am thankful for my hands that caress the softest skin until the heavy eyelids of little ones eventually close and they drift into a sweet slumber. Those hands have locked with Michael's so many times that his warm touch is ingrained in my fingertips forever. I am thankful for a body that can stretch and grow and bear the children that now absolutely define me. I am thankful for a mind that can recall precious memories whenever I want to time travel, and allows me to help with homework and think up silly stories that invoke the imagination of little artists' with their crayons. I am thankful that my green eyes gaze deeply into Michael's beautiful brown eyes and I still get a skip in my rhythmically beating heart. In this body, I praise God for my countless gifts. God gave me this perfectly imperfect body to house my spirit that is strong like Mama's and to protect my heart that is so full of love. Oh my heart. Ever growing. Ever breaking. Ever learning. What a thankful hypocrite I am.