She's Got the Moves Like Gadget

This morning on the way to school, we heard "Moves Like Jagger" by Maroon 5.  The kids are familiar with the part of the chorus with the title, the song is on my IPod workout playlist. So they sang along "I got the moves like Jagger, I got the moves like Jagger..."

And, of course, an argument had to ensue over the proper pronunciation and words to that line of the song. They settled, upon Big Girl's insistence, on:

"I've got the moves like Gadget, I've got the moves like Gadget..."

By this time, the song had been changed on the radio, but they kept up singing the chorus. Their version.

I asked Big Girl, "Who is Gadget?" You know, because if you are going to move like Gadget, you should probably know who/what that is.

Her answer: "I don't know. I think Gadget is probably a cool person with cool moves. Like this." (Insert Big Girl's weird dance style here.)

The Mystery of the Missing Backpack

Subtitle: The Irony of Organizing
Alternate Subtitle: Career Day Causes Chaos! 

Since realizing my house is a cluttered and disorganized mess, as I do about 3 times a year, Eric and I have been decluttering and cleaning like fools this month.  He spent the weekend sorting junk in the garage. I cleaned Big Girls room a week or so ago and spent my weekend in the mess that we call our playroom.  Tonight I tackled the deceptively deep hall closet. Things are looking good! The next goal is the upstairs linen closet.

Big Girl has managed to keep her room clean for a whole week! Mostly because she hasn't been playing with the toys now that they are in clear storage tubs, and instead lays around on the couch in her pajamas sucking on her 2 fingers and whining that she wants to watch Cupcake Wars. (To Big Girl's future husband: I am very sorry. I am doing the best I can!)

Today kicked off National Lutheran Schools Week. For those of you who are lacking insight in the world of Lutheran schools, it is essentially "spirit week" from public school.  There are theme days and the kids dress up. There are some special events like book fair and science night.  Today's theme was "Career Day", so last night I spent time with both kids figuring out clothes to go with their career.

No surprise, Little Man wanted to be a "worker man". But I couldn't find the "worker man" shirt he wore at Halloween (when he was also a "worker man"), so instead he was going to wear his fighter pilot dress up outfit. And bring his red guitar. ("Because I want to play guitar in the airplane.")

Big Girl decided to be a teacher. This was iron clad because she wrote it on a handwriting paper at school which is apparently A VERY SERIOUS COMMITMENT.  Dressing up for career day as a teacher has got to be one of the lamest clothing adventures out there. Unfortunately we do not have a denim romper with an apple patch.  I gave her the choice between two jumpers and she seemed fine with that. (Equally lame is dressing up like a "mom". I'm not saying teacher and mom aren't good careers, I'm just saying if you have an excuse to dress up for school you should really go for it! But I guess the young ladies in question just wanted to be true to themselves. Yada yada yada.)

This morning we got up and I started my daily ritual of herding the kids around the upstairs repeating, "Put on your underwear. Get your clothes on. Did you brush your hair? I said put on your underwear. Get your clothes on. Did you brush your hair?"  Little Man started crying because he doesn't want to be a guitar playing fighter pilot anymore. He wants to be a "worker man". Thankfully, the missing "worker man" shirt was located and mom saved the day!

In the meantime, Big Girl decided she no longer wanted to wear the jumper she picked last night. She wants a different jumper, the one she can't reach that needs to be ironed. Done and done.

But then it is time to go to school and I can't find Big Girl's water bottle to fill up before we leave. Not uncommon, she regularly leaves it in her backpack. So I asked for the backpack. And...

It is missing!

Have you seen this backpack? 

I ask, how is it possible that in our newly cleaned and organized house the backpack is now missing? (Along with the water bottle I just spent $15 on at REI not even 2 weeks ago! And her folder. And my Burts Bees chapstick that she stole from me.)

I told her to look for the backpack and she came back with her other backpack. The one she got for this school year but doesn't ever use because it is a messenger bag (which she selected) and she doesn't like that it is a messenger bag. She was all, "It's ok, I'll just use this one."

But I am not as easily able to just let it go. I applaud her "roll with the punches" attitude, but inside I'm thinking, "You don't just lose your brand new fancy water bottle and not care about that!" "You don't just lose the backpack you have taken to school almost every day for 3 years and just say, 'On to the next, personal items be damned!'"

I have since looked around for the backpack. I sent her after school on a backpack hunt. Her Daddy even did a thorough search. No backpack.

So we now have a cleaned and organized house, and now somehow Big Girl's backpack is missing. Finger crossed that we did not throw it away!!

When Kids Pick Their Own...

One thing I have learned about myself over the past few months is that I tend to do too much for my kids. They are very smart and capable, but I am very type A and often things are just easier for me to do myself.  Big Girl's kindergarten teacher told me at fall parent teacher conferences that I should encourage her independence and let her make choices, when appropriate, to develop her self esteem.

So I asked a few friends what kinds of things their 5 year olds did on their own and discovered that I hardly let/make Big Girl do ANYTHING on her own! Of course, a week or so before the PT conference, I brought in Big Girl's laundry basket with the clothes folded and sorted and asked her to put them away. You would not believe the battle of wits that ensued about that small amount of responsibility!

I have held strong and Big Girl is in charge of putting away her laundry. And both she and Little Man help dump out garbage cans on "garbage day" (this is right up Little Man's alley since he wants to be a "garbage truck man" when he grows up). I try to let her help me with dinner, and there are regular battles about who gets to help in what way with setting the table.

The easiest area for me to give up control and let the kids make choices is with their clothes and hair.  Big Girl has always had a very unique style. And I don't take their outfits seriously - I know some moms probably think that their kids clothing is a reflection on their parenting, but I don't feel that way. I love that they express themselves with their clothes.

Yesterday I learned that my acceptance of this quirky self expression has limits. There are SOME limits already -- Little Man knows that when he picks clothes for church he is supposed to pick "a shirt with buttons". Big Girl knows that we prefer she pick clothes out of her closet for church.

Friday was my great-aunt's 90th birthday.  She is very wealthy and very put together.  Her nails are always done, she always "dresses to go out", etc.  And, unlike me, she gets concerned if I bring the kids over for lunch at her retirement center and they aren't looking 'their best'.  So, last night we had dinner reservations with my mom and great aunt to celebrate her birthday. We asked the kids to get dressed to see Noni, which they know means they should look "fancy", while Eric and I got dressed.

So first Big Girl comes in with clips across the front of her bangs. And she wanted a half ponytail with curly hair tendrils hanging free. I helped do her hair the way she asked, but basically her hair looked like a giant bird's nest with multicolor clips all across the front of her hair.  I suggested we just brush her hair out because that is the way Noni likes it best, and she was in tears.

As I started to follow her to her room, out comes Little Man from his bedroom. He dutifully put on a shirt with buttons and "school pants", but also one of Big Girl's 2 inch wide turquoise blue cloth headbands. (Yes, we will let him wear funny headbands and even nail polish on his toes.)  I ended up getting sidetracked trying to convince him to take off the headband for Noni. (He did eventually remove it in favor of a trucker style Cars 2 hat, which he wore but removed at dinner.)

In the meantime, poor Eric handled Big Girl and the hair drama. I headed downstairs thinking we might actually be on time to pick Noni up for dinner. And then, down came Little Man. Wearing lipstick. Over pretty much every part of his face below his nose. "I put on Big Girl's chapstick!" he said proudly.

It was basically this look, only he was wearing a shirt with buttons. 

Thank you to whoever gave Big Girl tinted chapstick for Christmas. Oh wait, that was me!!

I got a death glare from Little Man as I frantically tried to scrub the lipstick/tinted chapstick off of his face, lovingly explaining why having lipstick all over his face was not a good idea when we were going to take Noni to her birthday dinner.

And finally, everyone was put together, we made it to the car and actually picked Noni up within 5 minutes of the time we were supposed to be there. Ahh... success!

The Embarrassing Parent

My kids aren't old enough yet for me to be embarrassing to them. Sure, we have already had our share of dramatic flouncing teenage girl angst from Big Girl. She started the "I hate you!", stomp to her room and slam the door, move sometime around her 2nd birthday.  We'll be in trouble a few years from now.

Tonight on facebook a friend I went to college with posted about waving to his elementary school daughter while she was at recess, making fun of himself because his daughter did not return the wave or acknowledge him. "Well, I guess I have officially become the embarrassing dad. This will come in handy when she is a teenager."

The thought reminded me of my own dad, back in the middle school or early high school years.  I remember our family walking through the mall and him suddenly speaking really loudly in a horrible Australian accent.  Or ordering in restaurants with a bad accent. If I remember right, he even spoke pretend sign language on at least one occasion.  Of course, I was mortified, though I probably also found it funny. I remember my mom acting embarrassed too. I wonder if she really was, or if that was part of the "show"?

And I wonder what silly things Eric and I will do that will embarrass our kids someday. I hope it is something fun like that. I'll have to work on something like this...

Potty Poop, an update

2 days in a row of Little Man pooping in the potty! Hooray!

The first thing he said after he went?

"Now, take a picture of it for Daddy. Then call my teacher."

What my life has become

Not that I had a fascinating life before kids, but I am realizing tonight how far into MommyZone I have descended.  As I have probably mentioned before, Little Man, who turned 4 in the fall, still refuses to poop in the potty.  The struggle has been intensified since he finally potty trained this summer, just in time to start preschool.  But he wears a diaper to poop.  He will actually ASK for a diaper, or ask to take a nap, so he can access his diaper and poop in it.

After talking to friends, searching the internet, reading some books and a visit with the pediatrician, we have tried "everything" to get him to poop in the potty.  He pees on the potty, so he isn't afraid the potty is going to eat him. He flushes the potty, so he isn't afraid of the sound.  He knows when he has to poop.

We've tried bribery, charts, regularly sitting him on the potty, begging, laxatives and withholding his diaper.  The last time we withheld the diapers (October), he didn't poop for 4 days until I relented and gave them back. Didn't want him to end up hospitalized or something from impacted poop!

The pediatrician told me in November I just need to let it go. "Eventually every kid potty trains and gives up diapers." True. But easier said than done. I've been dealing with diapers since 2006. Disposable for his sister, cloth for him, and now disposable for him because he's been in them so long that he used them to death! I just want to be done. And I want my kid to poop in the potty of just being a stubborn... well, stubborn stubborn-head.  The pediatrician also said that it is about control and that as long as Little Man has any sense that I am trying to push him into pooping on the potty, he appears to be resisting me. So, therefore, I need to eliminate the power struggle.

So since early November, I've been practicing "letting it go" and not caring that my 4 year old still poops in diapers. And I have to clean it up.

On Friday, Little Man had a particularly disgusting post-nap diaper.  As I gagged and cleaned him up, an idea struck! I told Little Man that if he pooped in his diaper from now on, he would be responsible to clean himself up. That Mama is done cleaning up poopy diaper butts.

His response: complete RAGE. (And, if you know Little Man, rage actually doesn't happen that often.)
He stomped around and shouted about how he would NOT clean his poopy butt.  But I held firm.

So that was Friday and today is Monday. We are on day 3 of no poop, because of course now that pooping in the diaper has apparently been taken away as an option, he is holding it again. (The reaction definitely makes me wonder if the "dealing with the cleanup" may be part of the interest in still pooping in diapers.)

Yesterday, Little Man actually agreed to try to poop on the potty a few times. Even this is an improvement. We spent 40 minutes in the bathroom last night, counting. And then shouting "Poop! You come out! Go into the potty!" and then making exaggerated pushing sounds and faces. But no poop.

Tonight though... VICTORY!!!

YES! My Little Man pooped in the potty!!

Wanna know what I did first?

I took a picture of the poop and text messaged it to his Daddy! (Since he was presenting his school budget to the school board, I'm sure he appreciated turning on his phone to find a picture of a giant poop!)

Then we called his teacher so he could say, "This is Little Man. I pooped in the potty. Hooray! Goodbye!"

And then I realized, there is something wrong with me. I TOOK A PICTURE OF MY SON'S POOP IN THE POTTY! And I don't even care! He pooped! In the potty!

Hooray!

Our "cool dude"

Last night at dinner, Little Man was asking us all sorts of complicated questions about life. What's new?

Eric asked him if he knows what a "genius" is. He didn't. So Eric told him that a genius is a person who knows a lot of things and learns things really easy. Someone whose brain is very smart.

He said, "Do you think you are a genius, Little Man?"
Little Man: "No, I'm not a genius, I'm just a super cool dude."

He continued to tell us how awesome he is. It was pretty funny.

I couldn't help thinking what a difference there is between Little Man and Big Girl, who seems to have come bursting out of the womb full of self-consciousness and low self esteem. It is one of my biggest fears and anxieties about being a mom. My Big Girl is such a perfectionist (I wonder where she gets it from... !!!) that she doubts herself at almost every turn. And she has been that way since she was an older baby. I pray all the time that she will have self confidence, and hope that as she grows up, I will be able to help her to become less self-conscious and more confident.

First Snow!!

Snow!!!

As a Chicagoan transplanted to dry Eastern Washington, this is the time of year where I get to laugh while people stress out about an inch or two of snow. It's happening today!!

The kids are thrilled to see snowflakes and play in the light dusting we received this morning.  They insisted I find their snow pants, boots, mittens and hats before they went outside. I tried to convince them they could go out without the snow pants (am I a great mom or what?), but they kept at me.

At least I got to check one more item off of my long, not-terribly-important-to-do list.  Organize walk-in hall closet. Check!

Thankfully, last year's snow boots (purchased after what even I would consider a "real" snow, and 2 sizes too big because they were expensive!) still fit!  Big Girl, who is wearing a 6/6X now, crammed herself into the 3T snowpants we crammed her into last year even though we have a pair of 5T snowpants that fit her perfectly.  For Little Man, I found a great outfit -- red coat and snowpants that look sort of like mechanics clothes or what a NASCAR driver would wear. And it fits!

Outside they went!!

Isn't it funny the way kids play? Little Man immediately went out and started "working" the way he always does. He gave himself a job. Big Girl chose slightly bossy storytelling play. She is so nice, she worked Little Man's chosen "job" into her story so they could play together!

The kids are outside playing and Little Man needs help with the buttons on his jacket.  So I pull him close to button him up.  See that little yellow patch on his front pocket? It says "Cutie Girls".  Yes, I dressed him in what is apparently a girls snow outfit. Luckily he can't read yet.  Maybe the patch is advertising that he is a 3T sized ladies man looking for love?

****

Full disclosure: there were actually a few snowflakes 2 days ago that probably count as the "first snow" of the year. But it was the "comes down as snow but becomes water immediately" kind and didn't last long. That didn't stop the 9 year old across the street from donning his snow gear and attempting to sled down his driveway, however!

Acceptable Reasons to Wake Me Up

I wrote this list in my mind at 3am last night, the third night in a row that I woke in the 3-4am window to the angelic sound of my name being sung from the bedroom of a toddler just down the hall.

Maaaaaaa-maaaaaaaaa! 


To be clear, this is not crying or fear based. This is more of a casual call for reasons that do not make it on to today's list. Their reasons are things like:

* I want you to rub my tummy.
* I want to tell you that I am going to wake up at 7:05am. (Yes, that's Little Man.)
* My blankets fell off my bed.
* My door is closed just a little bit more than I want it to be.

By the way, I think we have the only children in the world who do not sneak into our bedroom and get right in our faces to wake us up. Shocking, but I say preferable because at least it doesn't require me to get out of bed. Instead, our children are lazy and stay in their beds while also waking us up, requiring one of us to get out of bed and then they have the audacity to fall back to sleep right away while I end up tossing and turning for the next hour and a half thinking about blog posts or finishing my book that is now overdue at the library.

Anyway, I hereby name the following reasons for waking me up in the middle of the night as ACCEPTABLE!

* You just peed in your bed. (Or the other, but since Little Man is still in a night diaper, that isn't so much a problem... yet.)
* You fell out of your bed and hurt yourself.
* Some kind of intruder is in your room. This could be an alien, a stranger or our dog. Stuffed animals do not count.
* You puked, or think you might puke in the near future.
* Something has crashed through your bedroom window, spraying glass around the room and waking you up.
* There are people shouting outside your window because a pipe in the street exploded right outside our house and is flooding our yard.
* House is on fire/Smoke alarm is going off.

I can't think of much else. To prove I'm not a mean mommy, I will add the following to the list:

* You had a bad dream.
* You are too cold or too hot because your parents let you choose jammies that are not weather appropriate. (That happens more often than it should.)

Unfortunately, this list is actually pretty pointless because my kids can't read very well yet. And, frankly, they do whatever they want most of the time and probably wouldn't listen even if I told them these new "rules".

Fire Humans and Flags: From the Mouths of Babes

Learning my lesson about not talking publicly about breasts... I wrote a post about summer dresses for larger chested ladies and what happens? My blog gets hacked!

Well, I'm back with a big karate chop to the throat of my hackers, and a nice, fancy "secure" password. 

Take THAT!

******

In other news, Little Man (2.5 years old) has been dealing with some nasal issues due to the dry air here. It has led to multiple "I never thought I'd be doing this" moments with me shining a flashlight into his nose and extracting boogers that look like green raisins from his nostrils with a pair of tweezers. (Probably not medically advisable, I know, but a kid's got to breathe, right?) Enough is enough, despite his fear of air conditioning, wind, and all mechanical noises, we decided it was time to bust out the humidifier. 

The humidifier ranks pretty close to the air conditioning in terms of inducing fear. At this point, both things are not scary until, conveniently, it is time to go to bed. But, the humidifier is much more entertaining because Little Man calls it the... "fire human"!!

"Mama, I don't like the fire human in my room."

His other funny toddler word play: he calls the fly swatter a "flag", so any time he sees a fly he shouts, "I'm gonna flag it, Mama!" and runs for the fly swatter. Then I get to say, "Flag it, Little Man!" 

5 Secrets of Mom-hood

1. Guilt is as accurate as a thermometer for diagnosing illness.

I'm actually talking about myself here, not my kids. They aren't old enough for that yet. Someday...

I don't get sick very often, and when I do it is usually just run of the mill bugs - cold, sinus infection, allergies. As a stay at home mom, there is no "time out" button, or "day off" option. This has allowed me to develop a very discriminating system for determing whether I consider myself "sick" or not. Guilt. If I am sick, but have the energy to feel guilty about all of the everyday things I am not doing (playing with the kids, housework, cooking), I am not officially sick. When I stop caring about that stuff, then I get to wear pajamas all day and make Eric cook!

2. Birthdays for small children are about parents more than kids.

I will never forget my daughter's first birthday. What a momentous occasion! Her first bite of cake. Her first "party".  She had no idea what was going on, of course. Frankly , I think the idea of a party for a 1 year old seems silly. But we had the party and I learned secret number 2. It was all for me! All of those cheering people and friends gathering around thought they were applauding my daughter on her big day. Nope! I was off in the kitchen getting more paper plates and soaking in the positive vibes. I survived my first year as a mom! (And, at that point I was close to 5 months pregnant with my son, so that was with extra emphasis on survived)  Every birthday party I have attended since my daughter's has brought this memory to mind and I always take time to say a little prayer for Little One's mom. Thank you that she survived the year too! If I've attended a birthday party for your child, know that I was there thinking of you!  Do other moms feel this way? Not sure. No one else has ever really talked to me about this. But I definitely feel like that first birthday welcomes moms into a new club... we are surviviors of our children!

3. Moms are always fabulous!
My daughter taught me this one.  Whenever I ask her how I look, no matter if I'm wearing pajamas, workout clothes or a party dress, she always describes me in glowing terms.  Her mommy is always "beautiful", "a princess", "fabulous", "fancy" and/or "very gorgeous".  She must only see the best parts of what is inside me!

4. Moms don't have secrets.
Bought a latte at the grocery store this morning? My coffee-disapproving husband is sure to hear about it when he gets home from work.  Not that I ask the kids to keep secrets from anyone. We don't even discuss such things and I would never ask them to do something like that. But one would think that they might forget some insignificant details of our day, like that I got a caramel latte at the store. But, no. Hours later, something conspires against me and suddenly my kids are ordering "caramel lattes" from each other in the play kitchen. Or telling Daddy about how they got to have ice cream on the way to softball practice. They can't remember what they did today, but they can remember that my coffee was "iced" or that I accidentally said "dang it" when I stubbed my toe.

5. What a limited understanding of "love" we have!

My mind cannot comprehend all of the different kinds of love I have experienced in my life. Loving your parents, loving your sibling, loving a pet, loving friends, being "in love" as a teenager, romantic love, the love you share with your husband or wife... (my husband might add "loving your car", but I don't really get that one!)  None of it prepares us for the love we feel for our kids. No books or advice from other moms can describe it either.  How fully I love my daughter! And when I was pregnant with our son, I worried about how my heart would have room for him. And then, he was here and there was a full heart of love for him too! That love gave me a much greater appreciation for my own parents, as I can only now hope to understand how they love me. And thinking about that makes me think about God. How great is His love for us beyond even this? Uncomprehensibly great! Fullness beyond fullness.

But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions--it is by grace you have been saved (Ephesians 2:4-5).

Mornings with my girl

I really enjoy mornings with my big girl, L.  She will be four years old in a few months. L is a strange combination of "morning person" and "slow to wake up".  She is regularly awake by 6:30am and would come bounding out of her room, if not for her "light up clock".  But then once she is up, she's usually very mellow and snuggly. She doesn't like to eat much in the morning, takes forever to get dressed, and lays around on the floor near her mommy or daddy.

Because Little Man sleeps in (at least compared to L), we have a little bit of time each morning where it is just Mommy and Big Girl.  We have a nice routine going. It is one of my favorite parts of the day - also, coincidentally one of the quieter and more calm parts of the day.

Usually by the time her light up clock releases her into the world at 7am, I am getting dressed in the bedroom.  L likes to climb into the big bed and get under the covers, or sometimes just follow me around the room.  Typically there is some kind of "embarassing if it were out in the real world" comment about the color of my underwear, whether my pants fit, etc.  Then once I am dressed, I say, "How do I look?"  Before she can answer, it is very important that I stand back across the room from her so she can look me up and down. 

This morning I dressed for our softball practice this afternoon. I said, "How do I look? Do I look like a coach?" Her answer: "You look like...a coach. And... very fancy. And... Beautiful."

Then it's her turn to get dressed.  It doesn't matter how tired she has been up to this point, she always gets very worked up when it comes to getting dressed, especially if it's a school day! I sit on the bed and watch her spin around the room like a whirling dervish as I repeat over and over again, "Take off your jammies, please. Take off your jammies, please. Take off your jammies, please." Most days she chooses her own clothes. Her fashion sense is uniquely toddler. She has very firm ideas about what matches and what clothes need to be paired together, and apparently I didn't get the memo about the guidelines in this area. Today I tried to pick her outfit and was scolded for "not matching", and then she proceeded to choose the socks that were least likely to fall into the matching category.

Perhaps she doesn't know what "matching" is? In any case, she likes it. Outfit is almost always completed with "lighting shoes".

As she gets dressed, L shares with me whatever thoughts run through her head.  It is during this time of the day that she seems like a little girl and I inevitably start thinking about the years to come and talks in the bedroom and the period of time where I won't even be allowed in to her bedroom, much less expect her to talk to me about her thoughts. Aaah... Today she told me about a dream she had - there was a kitty and I was there ("Were you really there?") and then she "thought about" her teacher.  We talked about her best friend and the book her YaYa got her at the school book sale.  We talked about the bruise on her face from where she fell off the bleachers at school last night.   We talked about going to Bible study this morning and playing with her friends there. 

Today when she stood back for her "how do I look" moment, she said, "Tell me the same thing I told you." So I told her she looked like a coach, and very fancy, and beautiful. She was happy to hear it.

And, the final step of the morning, going downstairs to get her "blend" out of the refrigerator. Her daddy leaves her a small cup with his leftover smoothie each morning, and it is a highlight of her day.

Ode to "Teddy Man"

My son has a best friend. His name is "Teddy Man", usually shortened to "Man".  "Man" is his lovey.  I have no idea what the kind of toy is actually called. We always called it a "teddy bear head blanket". From that, my daughter named the blanket for us. 

Here is Little Man with his Teddy Man back in the summer of 2008.

Man is a little worse for wear now. But he is a loyal friend. He sleeps with my son every night and tags along anytime we are going someplace that might stress him out.  He is soft and lovable. Thankfully, my son will let me give Man "a bath". We have a front loading washer, so occasionally Man will get a "bath" and my son will stand in the laundry room watching Man go around and around and around.

We will be in big trouble if something ever happens to Man. I didn't realize until too late that my son was developing a "lovey" style attachment to him. By then, an emergency replacement Man couldn't be found.  My daughter never had a lovey, so I guess I was a little behind on that one!

Recently I learned something new about Man.  A few weeks ago when I got B out of his crib, he started talking about a wallet. I thought he meant my wallet, since he likes to get into my wallet and pull things out of it. "Where wallet go, Mama?"

A few days ago, I discovered that B was actually talking about Man's wallet! I didn't even realize Man had a wallet! I guess he probably does have lots of important things he would need to keep with him, right? So, after some questioning, I learned that Man's wallet is his tags! B will say, "Where wallet go, Mama?" and then find the tags and beam with pride as he shows me Man's wallet. Very cute.

One of the hardest things, for me, about being a stay at home mom is not stressing out about money. I am the "money manager", and have been since Eric and I got married. It was an obvious designation. I am much more detail oriented. Of course, when I took over the bill paying role, Eric and I had equal incomes and we were sharing purchasing decisions more evenly.

Now, I am home with the kids and not bringing in any income into the house. But I spend most of our money - bills, groceries, L's preschool tuition, household and child needs, etc. And I write all the checks sending money out of our house.

I never really considered how much that might stress me out.

I readily admit, I have problems with trying to control things too much. I control the checkbook, to an extent, but not the money that goes into the bank. I carry the worry of stretching the money Eric makes to cover our expenses. Eric is aware of our financial situation, but he doesn't "feel" it as much as if he were writing the checks and writing those numbers into our checkbook on a weekly basis.

I bet there are other stay at home moms who have the same stress.

The good news is that I do know that, in actuality, God is providing for us. That money in our bank account has been provided by Him. We have been a single income family for three and a half years now and for three and a half years, the numbers "don't add up". Looking at numbers, there is no way I should be staying home. And yet, here I am. In times of anxiety (and at the end of the month!), I continually remind myself of these facts. God is providing for us, and I should not worry about the details. (And yet, I still struggle with this.)

Phillipians 4:19: "For God will meet all your needs according to His glorious riches in Jesus Christ."

Matthew 6:25-27 "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?"