Some random thoughts and whatnots

My house is a wreck. No really guys, I know you think I'm all anal and stuff and that a speck of dust here or there constitutes "a wreck" in my world, but it's really a wreck today. If I had no pride at all, and I mean NONE, I would take a picture to prove it. Previous posts on poop and cake decorating (not the same post, but sadly very close together) have proven I have very little pride. But I have some.

My husband is gone again, our time together this weekend seemed close to nonexistent, and I'm looking into getting South Carolina wiped off the map, or else some airline having mercy and getting a direct flight to it.

My children aren't getting enough sleep.

I can't seem to motivate myself to do anything besides eat and swim. I generally wait 30 minutes, but still.

I have felt those complete and whole feelings of "I love being a mom" a few times today. Although, in general, they come sort of randomly, one was elicited by a comment from Ben. I took Ben "on a date like I did with dad yestowday". We went to lunch and a movie. I felt kind of gross after eating an overly greasy lunch and groaned, "Ugh, I feel sick" as I pulled into the movie theater parking lot. From the back I hear Ben assure me, "It's okay mom, the movie will make you feel better." It did. It really really did.

By the way, the movie we saw was The Shaggy Dog and I really enjoyed it. It made me laugh out loud several times, it developed a story line enough to not make it dull or overly something about nothing, I really do like Tim Allen, and it was just a nice, average, man-not-involved-enough-in-his-own-family-so-he-turns-into-a-dog-to-learn-the-more-important-lessons-in-life story like we all enjoy now and then.

The other elicited feeling was when Avery pushed her face harder against my lips as I was kissing her cheek. I love that she loves getting loves. You'd think I'd use a different word than "loves" since that sentence only had 7 words and three of them were of the root word "love". But I'm just not like that.

Oh, and I'm sure that I have exceeded any proper limit on talking about poop in a blog, but if it's going to invade my life as it does, it's going to do the same to my blog. This morning I was at the computer and Ben and Avery were toodling around. I hear Ben say, "oh no, Avery's poopy". Sometimes just by walking through a room, she announces the present condition of her bowels to a 5 foot radius. So, I figured that's what happened. Then Ben must have said something about changing her, but I'm not listening that well, and I have this delusion that is constantly being shattered, that my kids don't do stupid disgusting things that I don't want them to when I'm not looking. Then Ben comes running around the corner and says, "Avery's touching her poop". Since, generally, she has hit developmental milestones anywhere from 4-8 months before Ben has, I groan and think she is sticking her hand in her poopy diaper, like Ben discovered to do at 2. I go into the kitchen and find her with her diaper hanging mostly off. I think some part of one tab was clinging to her shirt. She held a large ball off poo in her hand that she immediately chucked away when she saw me, because she does that when she thinks she's getting busted. I just started whooping and hollering. I was really grossed out and at the same time found it very funny, and I was a little overwhelmed, and just really didn't know what to do. So I whooped and laughed. Both Ben and Avery thought that was funny and poor Sam stood back a little, not sure if he should dial 911 or laugh.

And lately, I have thought a lot about with whom you choose to marry and have children. If you are naughty, marry someone overly rule-bound. If you are sneaky, marry an open book who cannot lie. If you are smart, marry someone dull-witted. There has got to be a balance and some kind of compensation for what you are contributing to the gene pool.

Avery learned this week to fold her arms to pray. She concentrated pretty hard on Ben one night, and then pulled it off. It's just about the cutest thing I've ever seen. She'll squint her eyes, put her head down and mutter a few things. I have tried to get her to do it all week to show different people because it's so cute. She doesn't ever do what I ask her to. Ever. So today, (before the poop incident) she was eating breakfast and I gave her milk in a sippy cup. I'm always trying to upgrade from the bottle to no avail. She dumped the entire cup out. Organic, 3-plus dollars a quart, milk. I got mad. Because she knows better and because milk doesn't grow on trees. I scolded her sternly. See, Avery's a pretty intent little child and often when I get after her, or "lose my cool" (she has it WAY better than Ben ever did on the keeping it cool mom thing) she looks at me intently and about 2 words into my "tirade" she makes me feel like the stupid idiot I'm being. All with a look. You guys don't know how she can look at me, it's just not right for a baby to be doing that.

Anyway, I get after her about the milk, she looks at me the whole time, I'm feeling stupid right away, and then I like, feel like I need to stand there to show I'm not gonna be bullied by her focused, unblinking stares, but I don't really have anything to say, and I'm not quite sure what to do with my hands---so I just stand there. She folds her arms, bows her head, and starts muttering a prayer. She was either praying for me and my angered heart or praying for herself and her hopeful redemption from being a milk spilling mommy-antagonizer. Or she was trying to manipulate me by being cute and doing something she knows I like.
Either way you put it, I am not intellectually equipped to mother this kind of child.