The Moment You Climb Out of the Pit...

Just read this post by Kat at Inspired to Action.

I wanted to leave a comment, and I still might.  But, I realized that I have so much more to add that a mere comment wouldn't relieve my thoughts.

Have I battled fear?  Oh my, yes.

In my family, fear is something that is passed down lovingly from generation to generation.  In much the way you'd inherit a set of silver or a wedding gown, my family will carefully package and gift wrap the bondage of fear and pass it along to you.  You, in turn, are expected to care for it just as sweetly, use it as you are able, and pass it down to your own children.

Have you ever seen Clean House or Hoarders?  It's tough to turn away, because don't we all have those things in our lives that other people would think, "Why on earth are they keeping THAT?"  As evidenced by the shows, apparently some people have quite a bit more than others!  But, we all harbor things in our lives that we've been given, either by well-intentioned or oblivious family members, that we just don't know what to do with.  Throw out Grandma's china that is taking up every available cabinet?  What about the dress that used to fit and still hangs in the closet to remind us of thinner days?

Anytime you attempt to declutter your home, you face difficult decisions about possessions you've acquired.  But, if you think that's tough, go try and declutter your mind.

Granddaddy was an alcoholic...should I have this glass of wine?  My father had a heart attack...is this a pulled muscle or chest pain?  A friend committed suicide due to postpartum depression...should I have another baby?

What's the common denominator?  Fear.  Fear of what might happen to me--my family, my life, my home, my reputation, my career, my marriage, my children.

I've heard it said often that decisions made out of fear will be wrong decisions.  I don't know how many times the Bible says, in a variety of ways, to not be afraid.  But it's in there a lot.  God obviously knows that we struggle with fear.  1 John 4:18 says, "Perfect love drives out fear."  There's only one way to get out from under the cloud of living in fear.  And that's to live in the Light.

For most of my adult life, I've wanted to learn how to prevent living in fear like my ancestors before me.  I don't want to pass it along to my children.  I don't want fear to ever be a consideration when they make a decision.  The answer finally came to me during a project I worked on throughout 2009.

Scripture Memory.

Not elementary Sunday School memory verses that someone else chooses for you.  But, carefully watching for verses that speak specifically to you, meditating on them until they are a part of your heart, and, most importantly, USING them!  The Word of Truth hidden in your heart will, by it's very nature, remind you of what is real.  It reminds you that you are not alone, there is a God who wants what is best for you, and that, no matter what happens, you are going to be ok.

As the year went on, I recited verses anytime I was afraid.  From the time my husband wanted to go bike riding (terrified of that since I broke my arm on, or rather, falling OFF, a bike) to finding out I was pregnant with our second baby (if that doesn't scare you, you're not awake!) to an emergency doctor visit to rule out a miscarriage to being in labor with our sweet Little Lady.  Those and many other instances brought the verses to mind that I'd committed to memory.  Even for someone as obsessed with being in control as I am, it is all the sweeter to know that, not only am I not ever in control, but that it's not up to me.

It's not up to me.

That, my friends, is what fear is all about.  The illusion of control that you maintain, because the thought of losing control makes you crazy.  I remind myself of that daily--sometimes I listen to myself, sometimes I don't!

It's not up to you.

The Moment You Realize Just How Blessed You Are...

For starters, folks, I've done it!  I've gotten up prior to my family for 5 straight days!  


I decided that I couldn't face Jillian and her 30-day-shred at the crack of dawn every day, so I've spent my 20 minutes on the treadmill instead.  "Slept in" a little today because I never heard the alarm, but between me getting up a little early and my kids sleeping in a little (hallelujah for the grandparents' wearing them out last night!!), I still got to do my Bible study and plan my day.  Every single day has been just as painful as the first to get my feet on the floor, but I'm still loving the gentle start it's giving to my day.


Enough of that...


Last night (and probably the reason I missed the alarm this morning) we had a rather unconventional date night.  We still keep in touch with a friend of Hubby's from high school who lives down the street.  They've got five kids, one of which was born on our Little Man's due date.  Their youngest is about to turn one and has had a myriad of health problems, beginning when he was 10 days old.  He's been diagnosed with Denys Drash Syndrome which, to make a long story short, is an extremely rare genetic condition (200 diagnosed cases in the world--yes, WORLD--since it was defined in 1967) that affects his kidneys.  There are multiple medical problems involved, but the most critical issues are early kidney failure (usually by age 3) and the development of Wilms' tumor (kidney cancer) with a median age of onset of 12.5 months.  His mommy is expecting to be a living kidney donor as soon as possible.  


For our date night, we participated in a "celebrity waiter" fundraising dinner for this family.  Each waiter was responsible for decorating a table, decorating themselves, and, of course, providing dinner service to his tablemates.  Since our group was made up of high school buddies, we chose the 80's as our theme.  We decorated the table accordingly with Cabbage Patch babies, Nintendo games, records, Star Wars paraphernalia, and magazines from the decade.

And we decorated ourselves with big hair and blue eyeshadow.

We had a great time, raised some money for an absolutely wonderful family.  Hopefully, we added a little levity to an otherwise somber situation.  

But most of all, we came together as a family and as a community to pray for this little man.

Is he not just the cutest thing?  I just want to squeeze him!  

Today, take a minute to squeeze your own babies.  Completely healthy, booger-nosed, spitting up, runny diaper, or life-threatening genetic disease.  Pick 'em up, squeeze 'em tight, and thank God for the days He's given you to be their Mommy.  

And then, take a moment to pray for Shafer and the Daves family.  They are a tough family facing tough times and have chosen to be shining examples of God's love through it all.

The Moment You Take a Break...

Don't you just need a break sometimes?  Okay, now I sound like a Kit Kat commercial.  Or maybe a weekend.  I don't miss a lot about my career woman days, but weekends were nice.


For once, this past weekend felt like a break from the grind.  We had some good family time on Saturday morning with Little Man's soccer game--"I hustled a little bit!" says he.  Then I spent a little quality time at Starbucks with my sister while best-hubby-ever took the kids home and got them in the bed for naps.  After naptime, he shocked me with the request to go to the grocery and pick up food for dinner--and LEAVE THE KIDDOS AT HOME!  Ahhh...the beauty of rolling the aisles in complete freedom from the obnoxious race-car cart!  


Hubby headed off for a long-overdue round of golf with his buddies Sunday morning, and the kids and I took an impromptu trip to the zoo.  We didn't make it to church, but we talked a lot about all the animals God made for us.  After naptime Sunday (which I enjoyed by napping with everyone else!), Little Man and I headed out to the Praise Chamber.  We've meant to go for so long, but it's just never been the right time.  Hubby agreed to watch Little Lady and we lit out on our own for an evening of praise music like I haven't heard in the longest!  Little Man must have told me 10 times, "It's just you and me, Mommy!!"  


I really felt like we had a weekend.  We played.  We rested.  And then this morning...


I did it!  I actually got up at 5:55, a mere 5 minutes after my alarm went off.  I snuck down the basement and spent 20 minutes on the treadmill (and it was moving, albeit slowly, the entire time!), did the first day of my new study in Judges (even more excited about it now!), and got my thoughts together for the day. I certainly won't say the actual rolling-out-of-bed part was easy--far from it.  But it was SO worth it!


I was afraid of this.  I was afraid I'd like it.  That means now I have to do it again.  Humph.

The Moment You Decide to Change Your Routine...

I am a routine driven kind of gal.  I like routines, I like order, I love schedules.  Since becoming a mom, I rarely have any of the above any more.  


Well, that's not true.


I have a routine.  Get woken up by kids.  Feed all children, the dog, and, if I'm feeling especially peppy, the hubby too.  Plop kids in front of movie/Disney channel to zip through the shower.  Etc.  Etc.  You get the picture.


I don't like my routine.  I function SO MUCH BETTER if I have a few moments of quiet to get my thoughts together before I have to be at someone's beck and call.  Hence the morning sprint to the shower to get a tiny bit of peace and quiet.


Enter the Maximize Your Mornings Challenge.



I'm starting Monday, with an ultimate goal of starting my days at 5:30.  With a usual kid wake-up time between 6:30 and 7, that will afford me an hour to an hour and a half of alone time to exercise, do Bible study (just picked up a study on the book of Judges), and plan my day.  Alone time...every day!  What a concept!  


Now I've just got to figure out how to get my tail out of the bed...

The Moment You Discover You've Been Feeding Your Kids All The Wrong Things...

Heard about the Similac recall?

According to Similac's website, "Abbott Voluntarily Recalls Certain Similac®Brand Powder Infant Formulas That Did Not Meet Its Quality Standards."


Hmmm...upon a little further research, I discovered that their "quality standards" were breached by the contamination of "whole beetles, beetle parts, and beetle larvae".  Glad that's cleared up...


Seriously?  Beetle PARTS?  Unobservant as I am, I think even I would have noticed a whole beetle falling into Little Lady's bottle.  However, how small are these so-called "parts" anyway?  The Abbott website lists the only possible effect of ingesting these bugs to be a tummy upset.  Gives it a "ah, no big deal" feel to the whole thing, right?  Except, have you ever taken care of a baby with a "tummy upset"?  Not exactly fun times.


So, yesterday afternoon, after checking with my grocery store and pediatrician, I tossed all my open formula into the trash, loaded up the several unopened cans I had in the pantry, along with two 5 o'clock-cranky kids and headed to the grocery store.  They were, as expected, totally apologetic, helpful, and quick to refund my money.  I did feel a little bad when Little Man calls out, "Mommy, is this the place with the BUGS in the milk?"  Probably not the best word-of-mouth advertising for our friendly grocery store!


Anyway, the Little Lady has weathered the storm just fine for the moment.  But, I'm STILL struggling with my decision to stop breastfeeding--3 months later!  I'm not going to go into the whole story, but suffice it to say that we made the best of a rough situation and all four of us are happier now.  But, can you miss the "breastfeeding is best" message everywhere you look?  There is actually a warning label of sorts on the formula containers!  Do you truly think that I've sat around and said, "Oh, I know breastfeeding is best, but I'll be happy with just mediocre."  All these issues that I thought I had dealt with and moved on from.  It's just amazing how guilt can sneak up and blindside you like that.  I spend lots of my time trying to get my 3-year-old to eat something besides "treats", but I thought I had Little Lady squared away for the moment!
Amazing what a few measly beetle parts can do!

The Moment You Start To Question Everything You Knew...

Radical Read-Along Week 2!

Chapter Two starts off continuing the story of the underground believers we meet in Chapter One.  Tell me, does anyone else feel as overwhelmingly guilty as I do while reading about the trials these folks go through just to assemble in Christ's name?

Did you drive/ride to church on Sunday in an automobile you found in your garage?

Did you wrestle your kids into clean garb, make sure their teeth and hair were brushed, and shoo them off into children's church?

Is your idea of a rough Sunday morning having to put your makeup on in the car while your husband drives over speed bumps at what seems like the speed of light?

Do you struggle to stay awake during the sermon because you stayed up too late watching TV the night before?

All of the above and more are true of me most, if not all, Sunday mornings.  And, let me tell you...reading Radical has made me feel like a second-class Christian because of it.  I don't fear for my life when I go to church.  I can't leave my "fields" untended while I spend hours upon hours every day meeting with other believers.  I truly do not believe that God has called me to sell all my worldly goods and move to a third-world country.

Do I believe that I'm too materialistic?  Yep.  Do I believe that I have a tendency to cut and paste scripture to suit my taste?  Yep.  Do I believe that I can (and should) do more for the poor of my area and the world?  Absolutely.  Do I seriously believe that, if my life depended on it, I could stand up and count myself among the followers of Christ?  I hope to heaven I could.

If you sense a little indignation on my part, you'd be correct.  While I think I understand what Platt's trying to get across here (namely, that the traditional sign-up-and-be-counted method of getting "saved" isn't necessarily all that's required of Christians), I bristle a little at the suggestion that since I live a privileged life in the United States, I'm not as "Christian" as those who aren't as fortunate.  I certainly agree that our churches can water down the gospel so much that it's useless.  But, I also think that there are plenty of opportunities to dig deep into the scriptures and commit to following God daily.

I'm interested to see where Platt takes us on this journey.  Even though overwhelming guilt was my initial thought upon reading this chapter, I don't think that was his goal.  I want to spend the next week really listening to God and discovering where He wants me to serve.  Most importantly, I want to be willing to GO there, wherever that winds up to be.

The Moment You Realize You're In Over Your Head...

In the list of blogs I read, the recent book sensation has been "Radical" by David Platt.  Boomama's pastor wrote it, Missy at It's Almost Naptime and Angie at Bring the Rain have recommended it.  And Marla Taviano is hosting an online read-along.  Intrigued by the trend, I started reading the preview offered by Amazon.

And, several hours later, I decided I better just order the book and be done with it.  Let's just say, steel-toed boots are really required to read this one.  I've grown up in very large churches and learned the Great Commission as a memory verse.  I spent my graduate school years as a member of one of the largest Southern Baptist Churches in the country.  I'm now a member of a church who is in the middle of a substantial building program.  Yeah, I'm smack in the middle of the group Platt targets...folks who have found themselves living a "Christian spin on the American dream".

Conflicted?  That's me.  Feeling guilty?  Me, too.  A little defensive?  Yup, can't deny it.  Interested to see what Platt's suggestions are?  Most definitely.

All this, and I'm only on Chapter One.  Yikes!

Join us at Marla Taviano's blog to turn your world upside down, too!

The Moment You Realize Your Child is a Better Person Than You Are...

Little Man and I took a Mommy-and-son-only trip to Walmart this afternoon.  Since the arrival of Little Lady, he doesn't get nearly as much one-on-one time with Mommy as he would prefer.  So, leaving the Little Miss at home with Daddy to watch football offered us an opportunity to stroll the aisles of Wally-world sans diaper bag and car seat.

Incidentally, his first soccer game was this morning as well.  I think this post would be remiss if I didn't at least mention the overwhelming cuteness of ten 3-year-olds running around (or standing around, depending on the moment!) in their beloved soccer get-up.  Little Man had several friends on the team and, although he certainly isn't a star yet, he had a great time!

Anyway, the morning of soccer and the promise of a fun afternoon out with Mommy led him to ask some pretty serious questions.  Always the observant one, we hadn't been driving long before I heard, "Mommy, why isn't the flag at the top of the pole?"  We had discussed in the past that when the flag is flown half-mast, it's a sign of respect for someone who has gone to live with Jesus.  So, naturally, he wondered who had gone there this time.

I am, if nothing else, a mom who loves to answer questions.  I have a feeling it's in deference to my own mother who must have answered several hundred thousand questions from me during my childhood.  All those just-wait-until-you-have-children moments have culminated in my having a kid who jumps off of everything possible (from his daddy with the history of jumping off the back of a transfer truck as a kid) and asks questions from sun up to sun down (definitely my fault!)!  And I want to fuel his curiosity by answering the best way I know how.  I wind up with "Because God made it that way" on a regular basis, but I try to survive a while before then.

So, how do you answer a 3-year-old who wants to know the "scary story" why the flags are half-mast today?  My sister had to answer those difficult questions in the first few days following the 9/11 tragedy to a 3-year-old who's now a very grown-up 12-year-old.  But now?  What do you say about an event that your child will never remember but that you will never forget?  For the record, I was sitting in a biochemistry class at UT Memphis when our professor came in and asked us if we'd heard what was going on.  Since we'd been in class since 8 am, we didn't know what he was talking about.  He went on to tell us all he knew about planes hitting the World Trade Center, all planes in American airspace being grounded, and talk of further terrorist attacks.  This particular professor was known for having a flair for the dramatic, so my best friend and I just stared at each other mouthing, "Is he SERIOUS?  Can't possibly be!"  Once he'd told his story, he launched into the day's lecture.  After all, we did have an exam coming up the next day.

As I relived all my emotions from 9 years ago, I started to tell my son about the "bad guys" who "broke some buildings" and "hurt a lot of people" with "guns and bombs."  I left out the part about the airplanes, since he loves them so much.  He, as expected, had a lot of follow-up questions.  "Why did they want to hurt people?"  "You know how we talk about how much God loves us?  Well, God loves the bad guys too, but they didn't love Him back."  The worst was when he asked if they were boys or girls.  I told him that they were just boys, and that they didn't really like girls all that much.  "If they saw S, would they shoot her?"  My heart broke to think of my 3-year-old trying to defend his baby sister against such monsters.

After all the questions were done, I felt the need to remind the Little Man that God STILL loved the bad guys, even though they're in "time out" forever.  That God wants us to pray for the bad guys that are still out there.  And my baby...my precious, tender-hearted baby...said, "Okay, Mommy, let's do that now."  And so we prayed for all the bad guys who are still in this world.

And so I discovered that God has given me a child who has a bigger heart than I could have ever imagined.

The Moment You Find That You're Right...And You're Wrong...

Have you ever taken a trip with small children?  Specifically a preschooler and an infant?  We have now gone on two trips since Little Lady was born.  The first was to Disney World.  In July.  With a four-month-old.

Yeah, it was crazy.  This particular trip we knew would be tough, but worth it.  We enlisted the help of a beloved (and very brave) aunt to make the plane trip with me and the kids.  We were piggybacking this trip on the end of a continuing education course Hubby was taking, so he drove down early and was, essentially, the pack mule.  We loaded the SUV up with so much stuff there was barely room for the driver.  And we followed up a couple of days later with little more than ourselves and the diaper bag on the plane.  All things considered, the trip went spectacularly well.  Travel was good, kids adjusted to sleeping in the hotel with no problems.  It was hot as blazes and insanely crowded, but we were able to do the little-kid stuff at Disney without too much trouble.  The extra hands from Auntie were invaluable.  I hope she had fun too!

That trip went so well that Hubby was all excited to schedule a trip to the beach over Labor Day weekend. I have discovered over the years that "vacation" to me and "vacation" to Hubby look considerably different, however.  For a week in advance, I'm upping the laundry quota to get all our clothes clean at one time (nearly unheard of during any other time).  I'm making lists of things to "not forget"--formula, bottles, diapers, bathing suits, lullaby CDs, loveys, sippy cups, chargers for 15 different electronic devices, you name it!  I'm lining up childcare for the day before we leave so I can somehow pack all these items in some sort of order without any little "helpers".  And, then, once we get to our destination, I'm childproofing a new place.  I'm trying to convince 2 very routine-oriented children to sleep in a new environment.  I'm scheduling naptimes around activities around other naptimes.  I'm either figuring out how to cook in a tiny kitchenette (ok, to be fair, if there's cooking, Hubby's probably doing that) or taking small children to restaurants--neither of which ever seem to be good options.  I'm washing bottles in hotel room sinks and leaving them to dry all over the bathroom countertops.  What I'm not doing is vacationing.

Having said all that, I wasn't really excited about the prospect of traveling anywhere farther than the end of my driveway.  But, finally, with the promise of sand and sun (admittedly one of my favorite things EVER) and a 3-year-old who started asking, "Mommy, can we go to the beach?", we wound up on the road to Hilton Head, SC.

I'd protested that it was too much work.  I'd griped about the poor sleep habits we already had to deal with at home that would surely get worse.  But, I'd finally given in.  And to a degree we could never have anticipated, I was right.  It was the usual drill getting ready to go and the car ride was surprisingly ok.  But, things rapidly went downhill when we tried to get the Littles to go to sleep.  Little Lady cried nearly all night long for the first 2 nights.  Since they had to share a room, Little Man stayed awake as well.  They cried, I cried, and we all cried some more.  I was convinced that I was trapped in a nightmare of crying babies that would never end.

Enter Mr. Level-Headed...He just happens to mention..."Did you notice Little Lady pulling at her ears today?"  And, there's the light-bulb moment....

Yep, I spent the morning at a quick-care clinic with a baby who'd been trying to tell us for days..."People!!  I didn't know I had ears until just now!  But, now I know!  And they hurt!  Do something!"  I'd like to say things went swimmingly from there, but that would be a bit of an overstatement.  She got better slowly, but she's still not exactly back to normal.

On the other hand, I got to see this...

And this...

And this...

And this...

And I was so, so wrong...

Worth it?  Yeah, most definitely...

The Moment You Notice You're Not the Size You Were Before the Babies Arrived!

Took a pre-vacation trip to Target today.  "Gi-target", as Little Man would say.  But, anyway, Hubby had mentioned that we might get a chance to do the white-shirt-blue-jeans-on-the-beach pictures that we've admired in the past.  Of course, I got everyone else's stuff together before realizing that I didn't have a white shirt for myself that hadn't been around since the Clinton administration.  So, in my usual run to Target to get teeny, tiny shampoos and lotions, I naively thought I'd just pick up a white shirt to go with my jeans that finally fit again post-baby.

Ah, yes, the good ol' days of zipping in, picking up something cute, and zipping back out.  One more thing to remember fondly.  I found 6 shirts to try on.  Surely I'd get a winner, right?  I'd been kind to myself and gotten a size larger than I'd bought in the past.  No reason to stress over remaining baby weight less than 24 hours before spending a week in a swimsuit.  Struck out with 5 of the 6 shirts, and the last one is questionable.  Apparently I misjudged the size increase needed.  What an ego blow!  I know I look different than I did before my mama-body took over, but I shop for clothes so rarely that the inability to find ANYTHING tolerable to wear took me quite by surprise!

But, at the end of the day, I did find something that would work.  And, one of the advantages of having the kids?  No one's looking at me anyway!

The Moment You Remember How Much Fun Your Husband Is...

What is the primary attribute that initially attracted you to your mate?  Looks?  Sense of Humor?  Adventurous spirit?  Ambition?  Love of children?

There are a few of us who are fortunate enough to have found a mate with at least a little bit of all those.  But, the first thing that really turned my head about my hubby is that, simply put, he's a LOT of fun!  He's willing to try all kinds of things, he loves to explore new places, and he just plain loves to have a good time.  Sometimes to the detriment of the appearance of the front yard, but I digress...

Over the weekend, we had a second-chance opportunity to go whitewater rafting with some new friends (the first chance was ruined by a fever bug Little Man was gracious enough to share with his none-too-appreciative Mommy).  Having grown up in Ocoee, within miles of the site of the 2006 Olympics, Hubby had been down the river in his distant past.  Even though I'd lived within a hour of the site myself for my entire life, I'd never had the privilege.  Neither of us are good swimmers, both more than a little skittish when water is over our heads, but we were game to give it a try.

And we are SO glad we did!  We were both nervous, but it was so worth it.  The friends we went with were, literally, world-class paddlers, so that certainly added to the fun (and made it less scary, these people KNOW what they're doing!).  But, most of all, I enjoyed getting away from the every-day ordinary to do something new and fun with my best friend.  I've spent the last 3 years watching him have fun with our kids, which I've enjoyed more than words can say.  However, I finally got a chance, for just a few hours, to have him and his fun-loving, adventurous self all for me!

Our relationship is far from perfect.  But, I'm so glad I've been given someone so much fun with which to live this imperfect life!

The Moment You Discover You're Not Smart Enough To Be a Coupon Mom

For ages now, I've been encouraged by people in my real life, as well as online writers, to take up "couponing".  As if it's hobby, just like camping or scrapbooking or knitting.  With the notable exception of being an insatiable reader, I'm not a big hobby person.  I've never jumped into the world of couponing.  But, it seems like proponents are everywhere!  Online ads, stay-home-mom friends, church seminars...the pull seemed relentless.  And how do you argue with someone who says things like, "Well, I bought $643 worth of groceries and only paid $0.79!!"  It had really gotten to the point that I felt like it was a 401(k) match I'd missed out on for all these years.  Seriously, free money?  How can I pass that up?

Since I worked at CVS for 2 years and was pretty familiar with the Extracare system, I thought "CVSing" was the place for me to start.  So, last Sunday morning, we stopped on the way home from church so I could get a Sunday paper.

Strike One:  There was no CVS sale ad in the paper.  Uh, makes it a little harder to determine the sales for the week, don't you think?  I decided to look online at the ad, but that didn't seem to work either. Forget starting small, I'll go ahead and look at the other ads...

Strike Two:  Have you ever seen how many ads there are in your typical Sunday paper?  By the time I was done looking through them, the all-too-sacred naptime was over, children were ripping the sections apart, and I had a shopping list that ranged from digital cameras to school supplies to ground beef.  The list also spanned something like 20 stores.  Yes, I can see this working...Clip out seventeen coupons per store, load a preschooler and an infant into car seats, drive to first of 20 stores, load children into the cart--oh, wait, they both won't fit in the cart--so perch Little Lady's carseat precariously on cart seat while chasing Little Man through Store #1.  Obtain 3 items on list at Store #1 and make way to checkout line.  Purchase items with sale prices and coupons after explaining Store #1's obscure coupon policy (gleaned from various couponing websites) to cashier over the din of children screaming.  Give up, load kids back into car for drive home after having only gotten 3 items on weekly list.

Strike Three:  I simply can't figure it all out!!  Mind you, I'm a fairly well-educated woman.  A doctorate under my belt along with several years of college-level math.  But, I still floundered among all the "wyb" and "ecb" and "rp 8/01" to ever get to "makes it free!"  My sleep-deprived, child-addled brain just cannot process how to make it work.

In conclusion, I've decided that, while I may find a coupon worth hanging on to occasionally, I'm just not a couponer.  I am amazed and awed by women who are, much like my amazement and awe toward women who complete triathlons and run companies.  Press on, you CVSers!  But, alas, my sanity requires that I spend my time and my limited brain cells elsewhere during this season.  Guess I'll stick with my store brands and my bulk shopping for now.

The Moment You Realize You'd Sell Your Soul to Give the Pacie BACK

Little Man loves his pacie.  I've always described it as "baby Valium" for him.  When he's stressed, tired, scared, you name it--in goes the pacie and you can see him visibly relax.  He's been pretty attached to it since he was around nine months old.  Before that, he could take it or leave it.  But since then, he'd keep it in his mouth 24-7 if you'd let him.

We've weaned him down considerably, to just having it at sleep times.  But, we recently decided that it was time to--literally--pull the plug.  There are as many suggestions for HOW to get rid of the pacie as there are kids in the world.  From Hubby's friend who remembered his father unceremoniously yanking out his brother's pacie and tossing it out the car window to Little Man's gal pal at day care who was dreading her 3rd birthday because she'd been told Tinkerbell wouldn't bring pacies to 3-year-olds anymore.  One bright idea I'd read was to seal up the last remaining pacie inside a Build-a-Bear.  Sounded great--just touchy-feely enough to prevent an overload of mommy guilt, but still be effective.

So, off we went to take a family trip to Build-a-Bear Workshop.  With a whopping dose of "You're SUCH a big boy now!" and a little give-him-whatever-he-wants-to-keep-him-happy, he proudly marched out of the store with Pluto, the pacie bearing dog, and a pack of Silly Bandz (seriously, what IS the deal with those things??).  The first night, as expected, was rough.  He took forever to go to sleep and woke up multiple times with difficulty going back to sleep.  I guess if someone told me to go to bed without any blankets or pillows, I'd eventually go to sleep, but not without difficulty.  But, he remained super-proud of his big boy status and carried Pluto nearly everywhere (after first determining there was no zipper through which to retrieve his beloved pacie).

Fast forward almost 2 weeks...he's now sleeping ok at night, although still taking a while to go to sleep.  But naptimes are killing me!!  Before the pacie extraction, he'd drop off to sleep right away and doze for a good 2.5 hours before wandering down the stairs bleary-eyed and sweaty-faced.  Now?  He'll toss and turn for at least 30 minutes before finally giving in to an annoyingly brief nap of 45 minutes or so.  I'd be more grateful for the break time if it wasn't for the monster-child who appears a couple of hours later due to Lack of Sufficient Nap Syndrome.

Seriously, moms trying to do the Cry It Out thing with an infant think they have it tough?  Ha!  Just wait until you find you've voluntarily sacrificed that nap you worked so hard to establish in the first place!  Then the person needing Valium will be you!

The Moment You Realize Your Mama-Bear Instinct Is Now a Two-Headed Monster...

Now, I certainly can't argue with the concept of the mama-bear instinct that rears its head whenever my son is cheated on the playground or spoken to in an unnecessarily harsh way.  Since Little Man is only 3, I'm sure that moments of mommy indignation will only increase in frequency as he continues to learn to live in our world.  It seemed only natural that I'd have that same protective gut feeling when I had the Little Lady.

What I wasn't prepared for was the notion that sometimes my protection of one child would come at the expense of the other.  Let's face it...the instinct to protect your child from absolutely any wrong is not always particularly rational.  You give my daughter what I perceive to be a nasty look--I find myself having to rein in the desire to claw out your eyes.  Instinct?  Yes.  Appropriate?  Certainly not.  We, as civilized human beings, have to moderate our behavior.

However, I found myself in a bit of a dilemma just yesterday when Little Man decided to try out his drummer-boy skills on the side of Little Lady's head.  First thought, "Protect Little Lady!  Destroy the perpetrator!"  Second thought, "No one hurts my Little Man!  Hug him!"  Third thought, "Mad at Little Man!  Want to hug Little Man!  Want to comfort Little Lady!"  The thoughts swirled in a confusing mass inside my head until I just growled--quite Mama-Bear-like, I must admit.

Just one more unexpected turn in the road to mama maturity....

The Moment When You Realize All Your Children Are Asleep...

When you are a mommy to small children, you spend much of your life trying to get them to sleep.  Everyone asleep at one time is the holy grail of mommydom.  At least, it is at our house for right now.  My sister, whose 12-year-old son is rapidly speeding toward his teen years, seems to spend most of her mornings trying to get him OUT of the bed!  But, for me, the magical moment when both of my babies are sleeping is rare, fleeting, and something to be enjoyed to the fullest!

Since Baby Girl is, after all, a baby, her sleep has tended to be the most unpredictable.  She's a super-easygoing gal, but naptime and bedtime have been challenging with her from day one.  Now that I finally have her on a reasonable nap schedule, I made the momentous decision to remove the pacie from Big Brother.  My formerly great sleeper now takes a sweet forever to go to sleep and naps for about 15 seconds before waking himself back up.  Ugh!  We're not even a week into the pacie removal, though, so I have high hopes for the future.

But that moment...the moment all we mommies work so hard to achieve...the entire world is quiet.  Everyone's breathing is deep and slow.  You peek oh-so-carefully into their rooms to find eyes closed, grubby faces pressed into mattresses.  You take your own deep breath and feel the freedom.  You've punched the time clock and you're free to do what you choose for as long as it lasts.  You may choose to fold a load of clothes or wash some dishes...but you can do it with only your own thoughts running through your mind.  It's time to recharge your mind while balancing the checkbook.

And, of course, within minutes...the phone rings...