I love them. If Daniel is home I usually escape to the library and lose myself in the labyrinth of books and hushed voices. (What are hushed voices? I don't hear those very often.)
Today is a Sunday afternoon sans Daniel so I gotta create my own respite. I poured myself some coffee and even though my screen keeps getting covered up every two minutes by the American Girl Doll catalogue {"Mom, look at this one. This is the one that has a tipi."} I'm hoping to log some moments and quotes from the week that I don't want to forget.
For Cambria, each day begins with the crisis of what to wear. On Tuesday, I heard her muttering to herself as she stuffed something back in her drawer, "Well, can't wear that cuz Clare's gonna be there." I never did find out why that mattered, but a bigger problem was her choice of outfit for gym class on Friday. Polka dot dress + Cambria - leggings or bloomers + tumbling + exasperated, judgemental glances at me from the instructors = bad mom moment for the week.
JD is always thinking deeply. It is disturbing sometimes, especially to someone like me who doesn't tend to take life too seriously. Yesterday: "Dad, I have just been wondering this. Does Satan smoke?" I laughed out loud which didn't help Daniel respond with the gravity the question required, I'm sure.
Other thoughts from Jacob:
"Is there a word made with only vowels? No, I don't mean "I" and "A", I mean with several vowels, Mom."
*standing on stairway after being tucked in for the night* "Mom. Hi. Do anteaters eat ants? That question has just been sitting in my head."
To Cambria: "Be careful when you swim in Hawaii. I've heard there are killer whales there."
He delights in keeping tabs on current events, news and weather, and then name dropping. This is hilarious to me because he usually gets something wrong. Cases in point: Justin Biever, Nitt Romney and Moot Gingrich are a few recent goof-ups.
Today, riding the wave of my praise for good behavior, he tried for some further brownie points: "Mom, I don't really enjoy watching videos anymore. I just like playing with craft popsicle sticks and being creative." {This smacks of the smashingly popular "Homeschool Ryan Gosling" to me.}
Speaking of Cambria. . . I feel so tested as a mom by her style of learning and her needs right now. She is so sensitive and if not handled correctly and gently, quickly becomes pouty. She needs so much cuddling and time and love and endless reading of books. She wants so bad to be with me. If I start make supper I find myself wincing as I hear the inevitable scccr-scraping of pulling a chair up to the counter.
Why do I brace myself for it? I asked Daniel one day as I found myself clenching my teeth while giving instructions to stir and be careful and not to "lick and stick" fingers. I should be rejoicing to have a little girl who wants to help me and wants to be near me.
There are all sorts of reasons for my exasperation (the main one of course, being sin) but what it all boils down to for me is my selfish heart. My friend Wendi wrote about this humanness on Thursday and helped me feel less alone. I am not the only mamma who feels so inadequate to reach and meet all of these needs.
I am off to try and win over the unending laundry battle; then off to surprise my man by showing up at his Financial Peace University class. [He's been requesting that I come. I said no. I said absolutely no. I said I don't have time for one more Dave Ramsey class. This week I've been -once again- humbled by my own selfishness and the grace of God in my life. A tiny bit of unselfishness is not going to hurt me. So I told the kids I was going to show up at his class today and not to tell Daddy and there might not be childcare for them today so would they be okay playing with the iPad and sitting quietly? Jacob: "Oh, sure, Mom. Actually I have always wanted to sit in on an FPU class."]
*** news flash. just talked to Daniel and he isn't going. Grrreat. That means that I have to come up with another Valentine's Day gift for him. Ha ha ha. Although I am glad I found out. Showing up at his class with three children and no Daniel would be an even greater exercise in unselfishness and grace. ***
Well. . . the laundry hasn't changed plans, it's still patiently waiting for me.
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