Rain, Rain, Go Away

It's been raining....in southern California. I was recently in Oregon for a family visit and it rained (very typical winter weather), but then I returned home to tornado warnings and thunder storms. Good Grief! As much as I love a little drip drop, I do miss my sunshine. I don't force my kids to play outside enough, but with this rain, I wish sometimes I could push them outside so they would give ME a break. I am sure that they would enjoy nature's teardrops.

We've watched a lot of t.v. and we've promptly done our homework. We've even managed to keep our house cleaner than usual because I keep yelling at them to clean their rooms. (What else is there to do with soccer practice cancelled and streets too deep to ride over to friends' homes?)

Jerrod called yesterday to notify me of the tornado warning. He told me to get under a doorway if something happens, but I am unclear if he just got his natural disasters mixed-up or if he's really praying that I'd end up like the Wicked Witch of the East. (She was the one with the striped socks and the original wearer of the ruby slippers, right?)

So, I wake up in the morning to the pitter-patter of rain and thank God for rainy day schedule that allows me to leave work 10 minutes early. I thank God for the work that we did on the house 2 years back that now allows us to view our "lake" (seriously, the back yard reminds me of Poltergeist, the movie) from inside our home instead of from the middle of it. I thank God for a husband who worked tiredlessly this last weekend while I "vacationed" (any trip without kids is considered a vacation) to plug up holes and water-proof the attic and garage. We may get cabin fever, but come on, we live in southern CA. The sun will eventually come out. Silver Lining: We live close enough to Target that we really could kayak over for emergency tp or soy milk.

Money Issues...Life Issues

With the passing of Christmas, came the gifting of money. Cash was abound in the kids wallets, in my wallet, in envelopes, on the floor, in pockets...... As a ritual, we, meaning the kids, go to the bank and deposit some of their booty into their savings accounts. It was a practice of my parents and I thought that it was worth the effort to continue it with my own kids. We haven't made it to the bank yet which leaves us with many problems. First: It is MAD MONEY burning holes in our wallets (not mine anymore. I spent my wad of cash) and the kids want to spend it left-and-right on nonsense like party ballons to make balloon animals with, games to rot their minds, skinny jeans, or even an occasional hamburger from Carl's Jr. Second: I am tempted more and more to just "borrow" from the kids instead of going all the way to the bank to take out my own (ok, Jerrod's hard earned cash). Third: These boys are not the most responsible with their "important" items. We've lost a wallet with $40 in it only to find it a year later.

They ask me what we are saving "our" money for when we go to the bank and I always reply, "It's for college." A few hundred bucks isn't gonna get them very far college-wise, but maybe they could buy books for a semester. But then I get questions like, "Well, what if I don't go to college?" or "Why do you get to tell us how to use our money when it's ours?" I guess I am hopeful in my thinking that I am teaching them a valuable lesson in money.

I was surprised to hear yesterday, through the garage door, my oldest chatting with his friend about the money he had in the bank. I was obviously a mean witch for not letting him touch it and then I found out that he may not go to college. "Yeah...I might not even go to college so then what happens to my money?" I have never told my kids that college is a priority, but I sure hope that he knows that he must continue his education somewhere...at least if he wants to touch the money. A trade school or a junior college....something that will give him opportunities to be successful beyond high school.

So it is clear to me that I don't have a money issue, I have a life issue. These kids are growing up so fast and it's already time to talk to them about goals for their futures as adults. Not only money, but education, occupations, what kind of person they want to grow up to be. What they do at school, church, at their friend's homes, in my home...they all matter so much more now. It's time for me to step up my game.

Don't You Wish your Husband Would do That?

I cannot express my deepest appreciation for the effort that my husband put into cleaning and organizing the house this weekend. I guess it was sort of a New Year's resolution for him to get more organized, but the entire family can benefit from his hard work. He spent hours upon hours in the kitchen (in his pj's: too cute!) organizing our cluttered pantry drawers, dish cabinets, fridge, and silverware drawers. He's a bare-minimum guy when it comes to decoration so our kitchen echoes as I type this entry. I don't like it so much, but I do like that I can find the cornstarch without having to rummage through each shelf. He found many treasures like Christmas candy from years ago and half empty bags of pretzels and crackers that were opened over the summer. He even wiped the Taco Bell hot sauce off of the plastic liners. I guess they got smashed as we hurriedly threw our mess back into the pantry in days past.
I have always said that he would make a better "housewife" than me. He's proven it over and over. What a great guy!
But he says his next resolution is to eat healthier...I know what that really entails. It entails ME cooking healthier meals for him and the kids and not buying the crap that finds its way into my shopping cart. Boo hoo!

The gifts that desperation brings

After a great and relaxing Christmas with my family, it was time to get back to reality. I loved the fact that I hadn't left the house for days. I love the fact that my boys were still so "into" their gifts that they hadn't noticed that 4 days had gone by and that they were still not at each others' necks, but it was time for Jerrod to go back to work and it was time for the rest of us to get up at a decent hour and not lounge around all day in our pj's.
So, with Jerrod gone, it was up to me to get the boys breakfast and it was up to me to yell at them to brush their teeth and to eat something wholesome (like Lucky Charms, for instance-a Christmas sneak into our house:once they're gone, they'll be banned until next Christmas). It's a tiresome job taking care of kids, as I now remember. I had a small brain fart which, for a few short days, had wiped my memory of how much effort I had to put into my day to keep these kids alive and healthy. I amuse myself, as I do often, when I realized that I was in dire need of a break from the family (more specifically, my boys). My mom made an unexpected stop by the house that allowed me to run some errands without children attached to my hip. I RAN into my room and dressed myself so quickly. I was going to make some returns at a department store and check out the great after-Christmas sales. Here's the amusing part: I find a pair of pants that I want to try and I go into the dressing room. I notice that I have my underwear inside out. Typical Elaine. I guess I must have been in such a hurry to get out of my house and away from my kids that I didn't notice that I had pulled on a pair of undies with the label on the outside. Big deal. It could have been worse, I guess. They were clean. They were not backwards. So I sit now, writing my entry in undies that are inside out, and if I do come upon a situation where I am unable to change my clothes for the next day, I know that I can at least turn my Warner's right-side-in and life can go on.

It's NOT a Snuggie!

Today I write this entry wrapped in a warm handmade blanket. I am sick, apparently the flu, and a student gave me the best present ever just when I needed it the most. I had a feeling that I'd be in this situation because I have not sent all three boys to school on any of the days this week. It started with Cayden. He was sick through the Thanksgiving break. Next, the baby and then slowly the oldest showed symptoms and finally it came to me. Not unpredictable, but as a mom, I tried hard to be strong. I took last evening off from motherly duties and slept and burned the fever and chills off. This morning there wasn't a fever, just a little dizziness, so I thought that it would be ok to go to work. I'd have to drive everyone to school anyway. I don't work that long and it is so difficult to get a substitute for me.
So, I took my position in my leather-like office chair behind my desk and performed my usual duties until the students arrived. I read the newspaper, ate some Cocoa Pebbles, made my tea, and switched the radio to appropriate classroom music (uh, today's choice was a jazz station which ended up NOT being appropriate so it was turned off).
The kids came in and I immediately felt nausiated. Work has that effect on me, but this time I think it was my sensitivity to noise. I made it through most of my first class before I had to make my run to the bathroom. Yes, I barfed. I was not as well as I thought I was, but I had to make it through 2 more classes. The second class brought me great joy because first, I was gifted my blanket, and second, most of the students understood the lesson and could work independently. I assumed that I could make it for one more period. I survived the third. It isn't too difficult to figure out multiplicative inverses. Thank God for an easy lesson. It would have been even better if each one of my students hadn't asked me "Is that a Snuggie?"

It's much better than a Snuggie because it got me through my work day. I am hoping that it will get me though the afternoon when my own kids get home.

Thanksgiving Was My Favorite Holiday

For years and years, I looked forward to Thanksgiving Thursday all year long. It may have been the overendulgence of cranberry jelly, stuffing, and apple cider. Maybe it was the unwritten rule of being able to ask for seconds on pumpkin pie and an extra spray of canned whipping cream without feeling guilty. Whatever it was, just had me counting the days 'til the Big Turkey Feast.
As some may know, I have recently been placed on a gluten-free diet. It was a sad day when the doctor said that I had an allergy to flour. My first thought was that Thanksgiving Day was dead to me. It was just any other turkey and mashed potatoes meal. I tried to "psych" myself out and pump up the excitement. My friends sent me gluten-free recipes and articles, but as the day approached, it clearly had lost its magic. I was able to have almost everything, but knowing that I had to be careful made the meal so, hummm, like a diet. So I search for a new favorite holiday; one in which I do not have to make any sacrifices. Halloween was a disappointment because Twix bars (my favorite) have that crunchy cookie.....made of flour. Christmas has never been a favorite of mine, except for the shopping part, of course, ingrained in my genetic disposition as a woman. How about a Jell-O day? I am sure that there is one. That would be perfect for those who live a gluten-free life. All the jell-o and pudding pops you can eat in a 24 hour period under that same unwritten rule...I bet you could even use the canned whipped cream too!

My Baby is No Longer a Baby

So it's lil' Rylan's b-day today. He's 4 BIG years old. He and I went shopping for cupcakes for his class and cake mix for his special cake this evening. He has been my closest friend the last almost-5 years. We do everything together and I love it. Not that I didn't ever want my other boys, but Rylan came to us when I needed him to fill my emptiness. After the miscarriage, I wanted nothing more than to be pregnant and 5 months later, he was an answer to prayer. He still fills my emptiness...like when it's too quiet in the house, you can count on him to sing a cute song (opera style is his genre at this moment) or make noise. When I want to nap and be lazy, he requires me to get up from my sloth-like state to fulfill his basic needs of food and butt wiping. He gives me kisses, says that he loves me, and tells me that I am beautiful when Jerrod's not there to do his husbandly job.

As every parent knows, each child has their own personality. It is amazing to see the differences of all three of my boys and know that they are still from the same gene pool. Aside from just how much they look like each other, they are soo very different. What a challenge that God has put in our hands to raise these children into God-fearing, life-embracing, respectful men. There is no greater honor than to be a mother to these boys and to wake up each morning knowing that they have great respect for our job as parents. Jerrod and I see it in the way they respond to discipline: one of the many forms that our love comes in...and they get that.

We are far from perfect parents. We were never called to be "perfect". Our boys are not "perfect" and that is what makes them so perfect in my eyes. They are perfectly loved and they love me perfectly.

Boy do I get emotional on birthdays.