Three Thought Thursday: Episode 2

1. So with my second posting of three weekly thoughts, I ran in to a little bit of a dilemma. I literally spent about five minutes while showering last night debating if I should keep track of how many I've done, what number I'm on, etc. I decided at the beginning of the year that I wanted to try to do this every week for one year. So that's 52 of 'em, right? Why not just say #1, #2, #3? Too boring. Next, I thought of calling them "issues" like a magazine. But Lord only knows that I already have plenty of "issues" of a different variety. Why add 52 more? So with the hot water running out, I decided on "episodes". While yes, episodes are often associated with television, it also sounded somewhat southern to me. And I miss southern. (no, Texas is not real southern. Mississippi is real southern.) I could just picture a Scarlet O'Hara lounging with her hand across her forehead having an "episode".

Did I seriously put that much thought in to this? Yes. Am I ridiculous? Yes. After all, I'm pretty sure that roughly three people read this on a regular basis. And two because they're forced to! My parents receive it via e-mail even though they never asked to, and my beloved cousin, Mandi, actually took sympathy on me and requested that I send it to her each time I post so that she could keep up with my musings. Bet she regrets that request now! And the third person? Who knows? Hopefully you're out there somewhere!

2. Want to know something crazy!?! I actually won our family's annual bowl pick contest. Me. Yes, me. The only team I actively followed this year was Tech. All my other picks were at complete random. Whichever team sounded cooler got the nod. I did great through new years and then not too well to finish out. But luckily, I had it in the bag by the afternoon of Jan. 1. Figured I should document it since it's more than likely never gonna happen again. And my prize? A whopping $35! Think I should splurge on a new diaper pail?!?! (Which by the way, my aforementioned cousin and I were discussing these vile things earlier this week and she mentioned that someone needed to create a stainless steel diaper pail so it wouldn't absorb the smell. Why hasn't anyone done this??? Anyone want to make me one???)

3. Last week I professed my love for my Swiffer Vacuum. (ahhhhh.) After some thought, I realized that I spend way too much time desiring new things for myself, my kids, or my house. Usually unnecessary things. So I thought maybe each week I could try to find one thing in my house that I like. Something that I’m thankful for. To make me appreciate what I do have and not lust after what I don’t! Of course, the things I appreciate the most are things I could never find the words to write about on a meaningless blog. So I’ll reserve this for things that I can find words for. Just plain old material things. Not supernatural things like my beloved husband, amazing children, or infinitely loving God.

So this week I think I’ll delve into my love of door knob covers. Yes, the ones that keep your kids from being able to open the door. With not the hugest house in the world, I didn’t think these would be a necessity, but with the mayhem that is Kolbe and Reagan, I made up my mind that it was time to make a few rooms in our house off limits: the laundry room (what, with all the cleaning supplies and my “second pantry,” it’s a breeding ground for disaster.), the office/guest room (Mark studies in there and his books are all over the place. Reagan managed to tear out a few pages of one of his more important volumes…), and our bedroom. For a long time running, the boys have always been allowed in our room. And even now, they still are at certain points in the day. But the fact of the matter is that it’s our room. Mark’s and mine. Not theirs! Every time one of them manages to weasel his way in there, it always ends with my dresser being emptied out, the bathroom cabinets being ransacked, the toilet water being splashed in, my shoes being set up across the length of the bed, or my nightstand being swept clean. There’s pretty much nothing in that room that either one of them needs; therefore, I decided it should be off limits.

So this limits their play to the kitchen, family room, hallways, and their bedroom. (and now that Kolbe goes on the potty, the hall bathroom, too.) If I had known how well the door knob covers would help control the chaos, I would have bought them a long time ago! And as an added bonus, I’ve taken up a practice of allowing myself five minutes every morning to get dressed, brush my teeth, and touch up my face sans the boys. Previously, with both boys in the room, it often took a good twenty minutes or more. I constantly had to stop to break up fights, take away bottles of shampoo, close dresser drawers, etc. Now, I can get the boys interested in something, sneak away to the room and be done in a flash. They usually realize I’m gone and are sitting outside the door waiting for me when I come out. Slightly pitiful, but worth it! Yea for door knob covers!

Horray!!!

I definitely wasn't planning on writing a post tonight, but I absolutely cannot resist!!!

Why? Because HE FINALLY DID IT!!! KOLBE FINALLY PEED ON THE POTTY!!!!!!!!!!

Can you tell that I'm a little bit excited??? For those of you with older kiddos, I'm sure you can remember the day when that first miraculous little trickle sprang forth from your little one into something other than his or her diaper. For those of you with little ones younger that mine, (or that haven't figured out the potty yet) just wait! It's awesome! You would think that we won the lottery or something!

Maybe it isn't that big of a deal. But for some reason, it is to me! Maybe it's that's I've been wiping Kolbe's dirty hiney for twenty-six months. Or maybe it's that I've been wiping two dirty hinies for the past eleven months! Either way, just the thought that only one in diapers is just around the corner literally made me go to the kitchen and pour myself a celebratory glass of wine.

As for potty training, we haven't even started yet. I originally planned on starting it back in October, but for one reason or another it has been put off and put off. I've decided that I want to do the three day "cold turkey" method where you basically let them run around nakie for three days, watching their every move, and rushing them to the potty the second you see either form starting to "emerge". I've had several friends with success in this method, so I thought I'd give it a try. That being said, it's almost a necessity to have a helper with this process since there's no way I can give Kolbe 100% of my attention with Reagan around. Since Mom is my elected helper, I've had to work around her schedule too, and we just haven't been able to get this started.

We finally decided on the end of this month so for the past week I've really begun to pour on the "potty talk" with Kolbe. Uncle Brian and Aunt Cristi gave him a potty DVD for Christmas that he just loves. He has several potty books that we read too. Every time we change his diaper we talk about how it's yucky and nasty and big boys don't have to go in their pants. He also gets to sit on his big boy potty or the real potty whenever he asks.

Tonight when he was getting out of the tub, he kept saying his hiney hurt. Since I knew he hadn't gone #2 all day and nothing had happened to make his hiney hurt, I assumed it might be bathroom related. We let him sit on the potty to no avail, but every time I told him it was time to get off and go get dressed for bed, he insisted on staying. I allowed him to stay on his little boy potty while I took Reagan to the other room to nurse.

Mark was in the office studying and I could hear Kolbe in there saying, "Dada, Dada." All of a sudden, Mark came running in to the family room saying, "He did it! He did it!" Around the corner they came, potty in hand with a lovely yellow liquid inside. We were all jumping up and down as if a miracle had happened. Being the disgusting mom I am, I even got out the camera! Apparently on his own, he finally decided to go and then took it to daddy to show him.

Ahem, I interrupt this blog post to bring you an update! Seriously, while I was typing this (and Kolbe was enjoying his reward for peeing of laying on the couch and watching his Potty DVD) he just decided to let off a poopy in his potty too! I am not even kidding you!!! I have pictures (that I won't disgust you and post) to prove it!!! He just up and decided that he needed to go and got up the courage to do it!!! And to add to that, after we flushed the poopy, he got right back on and went pee again. Is it possible that he could just all of the sudden figure this out? Can I go pour myself a second glass??? Am I bizarre for being so excited about this???

A Home Where Children Live

One of the things that has alarmed me the most about being a stay-at-home mom has been the amount of time it takes to keep the house somewhat under control. And by somewhat I mean no food or juice spilled on the floor, no markers splayed casually across the table, no dirty diapers overflowing from the stinky pail. Realistically, keeping toys picked up is an impossibility.

When Kolbe was a baby and I was back at work, I never realized how time consuming keeping up with the household was. We'd get home from work around 5:30 and eat dinner, play for an hour or two, and then off to bed. Our routine barely gave him any time to destroy the house. Now that not only are they home ALL day long, but there's two of them too, it's a constant battle to keep the carpet visible and the table void of some form of food dried to it. And don't even ask if I keep my children perfectly cleaned throughout the day. Does the word 'rag-a-muffin' mean anything to you? We use it frequently in our home.

A week or so ago, my sister-in-laws Abby and Casey and I were in a maternity store. For once, I wasn't shopping and had time to relax for a minute or two while they were trying on clothes. The store we were in had a neat little area set up for kids to play in while their mamas shopped. On the wall behind the play area, the following was displayed:

This is a Home Where Children Live
You may not find things all in place,
Friend, when you enter here.
But we’re a home where children live,
We hold them very dear.

And you may find small fingerprints
And smudges on the wall.
When the kids are gone, we’ll clean them up,
Right now we’re playing ball.

For there’s one thing of which we’re sure,
These children are on loan.
One day they’re always underfoot,
Next thing you know, they’re gone.

That’s when we’ll have a well-kept house,
When they’re off on their own.
Right now, this is where children live,
A loved and lived-in home.

I just loved this little poem! These words couldn't be truer about our house. I don't even try to pretend like we've got it all together here. Heck, our entire family room is a "what's what" of toddler toys and our mantle proudly displays not beloved family photos, but toys that have been taken away for their misuse as weapons of brotherly destruction.

But as the poem says, there's far too little time to waste every waking moment cleaning up the evidence of our day-to-day activities. And even if there were enough time, I don't know that I'd want to wipe it all away. There's something so precious about seeing Kolbe's little scribble marks on construction paper proudly taped haphazardly to the wall or Reagan's blankies and rattles piled high in the middle of the kitchen floor. They call out to me as if to say, Yes, we're a mess, but stop! Think about it! You have a mess! That means you have two beautiful, happy, loved boys who are growing, learning, experiencing, and enjoying life! Be thankful!

After all, on a day to day basis, who am I trying to impress? As a mother, truly my only audience is these boys and God. And I'm pretty sure both the boys and God could care less about whether the floor has been mopped today or not.

Three Thought Thursday

There's another mom with a blog that I read from time to time that does a "Seven Quick Takes" every Friday. Just seven little ditties about whatever thoughts she's having at the moment. Countless other bloggers have picked up on this routine and added it to their blogs. It's pretty neat because you can go to her blog and check out many of the other women and their seven takes for the week.

While I love this idea (as I tend to always have lots of random thoughts running through my head throughout the day), I have felt a little intimidated by the number seven. While yes, I do think about more than seven things in any given week, I doubt I'd be able to make that many thoughts coherent on the blog. And Lord knows I'd never find the time to adequately articulate seven complete thoughts. Thus, I've decided for the new year I'll start my own little random thought routine and do a Three Thought Thursday once a week. Surely I can manage three complete thoughts, right? Here we go for Week One!

1. I LOVE Christmas decorations. Really. There's something so special about the way a Christmas tree, an Advent wreath, stockings, and a Nativity scene make my home feel once all the decorations are all in place. Despite the cold outside, they just seem to make the whole house warmer. And I don't know about you, but this year I felt more excited about Christmas than I had since I was about six years old. Seeing Christmas through the eyes of a two-year-old was just SO exciting! A smile spreads across my face just thinking about next year! So yes, I decked my house out as much as my minimal budget would allow. And today I faced the daunting task of taking it all down. Buh. Love putting it up; hate taking it down. Seriously, the only part I like about taking it down is the smile on my face when I think about setting it all up next year!

2. Is it wrong to want something you already have? Depends on what it is, I'm sure you're saying. In my case, it's a diaper pail. I know, I know. Get real, right? But seriously! We've had the same diaper pail since Kolbe was born, and while it still works as intended, it's driving me crazy. No matter what I spray on it, sprinkle in it, wipe it down with, it still smells horrible. I took it in the backyard and got after it with the hose and some bleach cleaner. It still smells bad. I think the stink has been absorbed into the plastic. Heck, can you blame it? Considering it went through fifteen months of just Kolbe followed by eleven months with BOTH stinky boys, it's probably housed about five thousand dirty diapers thus far. The lever has been flipped over so many times that the rubber edging catches the rim and forces me to get aggressive on a daily basis. But for some reason I can't seem to justify buying a new one. Maybe I'm expecting it to spontaneously combust of stinky-ness or something.

3. In my world to date, the greatest cleaning tool in the world has got to be The Swiffer Vacuum. Prior to Reagan's birth I was completely blind to it's greatness. My mom and brother Dave used to rave about it and I just shrugged and assumed it was another cleaning gimmick that wasn't worth the investment. After all, I already owned the regular Swiffer Sweeper. You know, the stick that you attach the dusting cloth to that picks up all the nasty on the floor. While the Swiffer Sweeper is wonderful for picking up all the microscopic stuff that the broom can't get, it still requires the broom for all the big pieces, not to mention the dust pan. So you're making two complete trips around the floor. But alas, my beautiful mother bestowed upon me The Swiffer Vacuum as a mommy gift after Reagan was born. Sigh. I love that thing! It's literally like a DustBuster on a stick with the added bonus of the dusting cloth as well. It picks up all the big pieces AND all the microscopic pieces! Plus, it swivels around every piece of furniture and is much easier to use than the common broom. No dirt pile, no dust pan. It. Is. Awesome! Seriously, if you have $25 sitting around, buy yourself this. Or get someone else to buy it for you! I think you can even find coupons for it online. Totally worth the investment. I use mine constantly and every time I marvel at it's greatest.

My Little Catholic Kolbe

Mark got an adorable little table book for Christmas about lessons every father must teach his son. We've had a blast over the past week or so thumbing through all the little one-liners and dreaming of the future fun we'll have with our boys. One page in particular stood out to me; it reads:

"Remember, your primary duty as a father is to develop your son's spiritual well-being."

Mark and I have firmly believed this about having children since the get-go, but seeing it on paper and written by someone else just really hit home to me. The spiritual well-being of these boys is our greatest responsibility as parents. And Mark has said it before too: "My most important job is to get you and the boys to heaven!"

That being said, Mark and I have been trying our best to get these guys started in our faith at an early age. For the most part we've just assumed that they'll pick it up as they grow and comprehend God more easily. And, of course, praying and leading by example is essentially the most obvious route to take in this journey. We pray with the boys, take them to mass, read them books about God and how much He loves them, and let them see us praying as well.

I must say that we've been amazed at the way the understanding of God has blossomed in Kolbe this year. It started with his love of wearing his rosary around his neck. Shortly there after he began getting one of Mark's rosaries out of his nightstand drawer whenever possible and carrying it around. He then quickly developed his own makeshift sign of the cross which has become progressively more perfected over the passing months.

And just within the past month or so, some of the cutest, most pride inducing moments ever! A few Sundays ago at mass Kolbe kept climbing down from the pew during the homily and walking to the end of the aisle. With clenched teeth, I repeatedly whispered, "No, no, Kolbe! Come sit down, please!" He would come sit back down just to get back up and repeat his actions a few minutes later. Suddenly I realized what was going on. Kolbe would walk to the end of our pew, step out in to the aisle, hold on to the pew, crouch down beside it, and then come sit back down. He was genuflecting!!!

Let me just say that had my camera been in my bag, I would have started snapping pictures right in the middle of mass! Totally not kidding. Heck, I came close to hollering out Hey! Look at my two-year-old kid, everyone! Ultimate proud mom moment.

Another favorite is how during the Lord's Prayer he loves to glance around the congregation at everyone holding hands. When he notices the people at the end of each pew holding out their free hand to the "invisible" brother or sister beside them, he holds out his hands too. And sometimes at the end of the prayer when everyone raises their hands higher for the "for thine is the kingdom, the power..." he will stick his arms straight up and throw his head back, looking up to the ceiling for the rest of the prayer. He also likes to hold his arms out like the priest during the consecration, too. And if Mark closes his eyes and bows his head, Kolbe will pretend to close (i.e. squint) his and bow his head as well.

If it sounds like I'm bragging, it's because I am. While all of these things seem "cute" to onlookers (and me as well), the thing I'm most proud of is that the very concepts we want him to learn the most are starting to come through. And it feels so rewarding to actually be able to see that our efforts are completely worth it. Though making it through mass with two babies is sometimes one of the most exhausting activities of my week, it's something I will never ever give up on if it means laying another brick in their road to heaven.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Despite my wishin' and hopin' for the opposite, it appears that our "vacation" down to my parents house has come to an end. At least the "vacation" portion of it, that is. (and by "vacation" I mean any possibility of fun whatsoever...) In a few short hours we will be packing up our bags and making the treacherous trek back to Lubbock via I-45 and I-20. I think I'll take a few Advil now to prepare myself for the onslaught of pain that will most definitely ensue in my head during said road trip.

But for the most part, this has been a delightful trip. Nothing says "the holidays" like shopping, eating, lounging, movie-watching, mass attending, and relaxing. All of which I was blessed to be able to do. And I must admit, though it's always fun to be able to give and receive gifts, there's nothing quite like getting to spend a little quality time with family. That's definitely The Good of Travelling with the Asmussens. One aspect I most certainly will never get tired of is getting to see the joy on my parents' faces as they interact with the boys. As previously mentioned, I sometimes get blinded by the stress of chasing two babies and end up missing some of the most precious moments with these guys. Something about grandparenting gives them the grace to truly cherish every little second with Kolbe and Reagan. Maybe it's that they only get to see them from time to time. And maybe it's that they're just a little head-over-heals in love. And while being an adult and a mother and a wife feel so natural to me now, I can't help but also enjoy the ability to come home and be a daughter once again.

But, oh! The Bad! Last year at this time when we came down for Christmas, I was a sluggish six months pregnant and had a feisty thirteen month old. Throw in a staircase, a festively decorated house, and a winter cold (for Kolbe). At times it was literally a recipe for disaster. I remember asking myself Am I really going to be able to do this next year with two!?! But as for Kolbe, I wish I knew then what I know now. I certainly wouldn't have worried as much. Kolbe can now maneuver the staircase quite well, knows not to touch the decorations, and sleeps through the most annoying of sounds.

Including those produced by his brother. (I just dropped a few more Advil into my mouth at the thought...) Reagan, Reagan, Reagan. I sure do love that kiddo, but he's definitely associated with The Bad for this trip. Don't get me wrong. Yes, he did pull all kinds of items off of every surface in the house, broke a beloved heirloom of my parents', and forced us to use baby gates for the stairs. But that wasn't even The Bad part! Heck, he's ten months old; we didn't expect him to be perfect. The nightmare occurred precisely when most nightmares come...at night. I don't know if it was the strange room we all slept in, the absence of his comfort noises that he has at home (humidifier and heater), or the impending protrusion of his left front tooth that caused the breakdown, but I do know that it resulted in between a mere 3 and 6 hours of sleep for me each night.

Seriously, people. I do better at home.

The initial wake-up usually occurred around midnight...and then every thirty minutes to two hours there after. And these weren't "newborn" wake-ups where I could just nurse him and he'd fall right back asleep. These were full blown scream fests that had no rhyme or reason. To add, he would crank the scream up a notch if it was anyone holding him except for me! A few times I found myself asking, Is The Good really worth The Bad? Sheesh. I'm here on a vacation...not to torture myself! Or him, for that matter! Needless to say, there is one reason I'm anxious to get back to Lubbock: to get Reagan back on his normal sleep routine. At least I have the peace of mind of knowing that, should we be able to make the journey again next year, both he and Kolbe will be at the age where this shouldn't be a problem. Lord willing.

And The Ugly. Something I'd rather not discuss but suppose in all honesty, I must. Every year at this time, both Mark and I manage to cave in one specific area. Food. Could it be the strategically placed candy bowls that cry out to me from eye or hand level? The favorite Woodlands restaurants that we just have to go to? The over-sized tin of candy-coated popcorn? The endless supply of my beloved Coca Cola? In fact, it's all of them. And I just can't say no. Unfortunately, by the end of basically every night that we've been here, my stomach has been more than eager to say no. I found myself asking as I tossed and turned uncomfortably in bed, Why did I eat so much today!?! Really, I should practice more self-control... but it just all looks so good! And besides, someone has to eat that last chunk of summer sausage...

Time for a Break

I'm. On. Vacation.

Ahhhhhhhhh. (yes, that's one long sigh.)

It's somewhat of an unplanned and harried vacation, but a vacation nonetheless. Since we spent Christmas with my family last year, we will be spending this Christmas with Mark's family in Lubbock. Still, both Mark and I have desperately been needing a break. Like a break from Lubbock. A total get-away from the "real world."

When we realized that Mark would be finishing up with his rotation on the 17th (more than a week before Christmas), we decided we'd high-tail it down to The Woodlands for a quick visit with my parents. I suppose my itch to get out was stronger than I thought, as here I sit at my parents computer on the 15th, typing away while my mom puts Kolbe to bed. The boys and I decided to fly down in advance to give Mark some peace and quiet in order to study for his block exam.

Now that I'm here, I feel a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders. Like, oh! What a relief! It's so nice to have two extra sets of hands. Two, make that three. Dave arrived this evening. And all three "helpers" love to dote on the boys, an activity that has been beginning to wear on me greatly. Don't get me wrong. There's no better job than taking care of these guys. Lately it has just seemed like total chaos and conflict, and I'm thinking the break will help even things out. At least I'm hoping.

I think as moms we feel like we have to be on our A-game at all times. Whether people are looking or not. Have you ever gotten that guilty feeling in the pit of your stomach when it's noon, you're still in pajamas, heck, your kids are still in pajamas, there's barely a stitch of carpet showing from beneath the mound of toys on the floor, and you're attempting to close your eyes and go to your happy place? I've been feeling it a lot lately. With questions swirling through my mind like Why in the world is nothing working today? How can they look so sweet and act so terrible? Why am I not being an effective mommy? And why is it that guilt is the emotion connected with these questions?

Really, I shouldn't feel guilty for not having it all together all of the time. Trying to come across as the perfect Suzie Homemaker is really unrealistic. I'm a human being. Not only an imperfect mother, but an imperfect person all together. But the thing is, I'm perfectly imperfect. That's the way it's supposed to be. God made us to need Him. Without struggles, weakness, difficulties, and challenges, would we really need Him? I suppose going through these things are quite necessary in order to stay connected.

And another thing. We really shouldn't feel guilty for taking a break. I have a confession to make. I, yes I, a contestant on Who Wants to be a Perfect Mother allowed my barely two year old child to fly on an airplane with his grandmother to Houston and spend the night away from me. (Gasp!) Granted, Reagan and I flew down today...the very next morning...but in all honesty, I had originally decided to let him do it for four whole nights! After deciding that baby steps (for me, not for him) were better, one night was still a major milestone for us. Still, when I stopped by the bank this morning before leaving town, all my former co-workers had seemingly shocked expressions on their faces. You let him do what? How could you!?! All the way to Houston!?! On a plane!?! I would have never imagined that you of all people would do such a thing!!! Cue guilty mom feelings.

But why? My child is safe, he's being completely cared for, and he's happy. Letting him take this little trip should not get me voted off the island. If making my little guy happy, making my parents happy, and giving me a break is bad, then I suppose I'm not cut out for Who Wants to be a Perfect Mother after all. Like I said, perfectly imperfect. As it should be.

And yes, I'm going to get my hair done tomorrow. At a salon. By someone else. And by myself!

A break. It will be good for me. And in the long run, good for my boys and good for my husband. I hope to return to Lubbock rejuvenated, reinvigorated, and more passionate about my career as a mama than ever. Lord willing, the boys will have a totally refreshed mama and wife! (and hopefully one with fabulous locks!)