NAME CHANGE!

Okay, I'm learning about blogs. Blogs with the word "Sweet" are rare and far between, especially when the content goes on to describe the mess of life. Anyway, the "Sweeter" original title was more of a "holding title" if you will, while I came up with a more appropriate, more inspired name. I think I found one! I am not very good at photo shop, so I am still working on this title page, but it is getting closer to what I want...:)

The complication of naps...

When naps are taken by the appropriate people at the appropriate times, they can be heavenly...for me and the napper. However, when schedules are thrown off, and naps sneak in when they are not supposed to, household sanity is at risk.

Andrew is upstairs crying, and Sammy is downstairs sleeping on the couch. The exact opposite of "an ideal situation." Andrew slept for 20 minutes in the car, and now is crying in his crib, unable to sleep. Sammy stayed up late last night having fun, and now is so exhausted that he remained asleep despite a transport and a wardrobe change. Unfortunately this means he will be up until about 9:30 or 10:00 tonight, fussing and rattling around in his bed. Andrew's shrieks from his crib make it hard for me to enjoy my typical mid-afternoon sanity break. How exactly does a 20-minute cat-nap make up for 2 hours of missed sleep?

Yesterday I attempted to take a small nap, having been up most of the night wired from a "decaf" coffee I had early that morning. I'm not even sure I slept more than a five minutes between intermittent shrieks , cries, and complaints about TV shows. However, somehow it was enough to keep me up until 10:30 pm, even though I crawled into bed around 8:00 pm.

Growing up, I remember being confused and annoyed when my mom would wake me up if I fell asleep on the couch. Why did she care if I slept or not? I was tired! Hmm....perhaps it was my knocking on her door at 11:30 pm complaining that I couldn't sleep? Ah, the wisdom of motherhood. She knew about the complication of naps...and the price mothers pay for children (over the age of 3) sleeping during the day.

Too loud to be Thomas

Okay, I will admit it. I heard the loud banging, I heard the gradual thuds down the stairs. I heard the grunts of effort coming from his mouth. But I assumed that as usual, Andrew was throwing pieces of his train set over the stair gate and down the stairs. I know, not the best of occupations, but hey, the stairs are carpeted and it keeps him busy. So I ignored it. If I followed this monkey around all day I would get absolutely nothing done.

However, the banging got louder. The thuds were undeniably too loud to be Thomas and Percy, or even their roundhouse. Even so, I took my time getting to the stairway; I just assumed he had found some slightly larger toys to throw. Eventually however, I came to the conclusion that I had no choice but to investigate. To be honest, after that last thud, I was slightly afraid it was Andrew himself.

As I approached the stairs, my questions were answered. There on the first landing I found two jumbo bottles of Kirkland shampoo, two bottles of Listerine, one bottle of Coppertone suntan lotion, some shoe polish, and a package of 32 Gilette replacement razors. He had been raiding my supply closet! As I am scolding myself for having been a social worker and not having a lock on the closet door, I turn the corner and look up the rest of the stairway. There, at the top, is Andrew, grunting as he hoists a can of "Whipple Blue" Dunn Edwards paint as high as he could muster. I was just in time. One more second of denial, one more dish in the dishwasher, and my currently undecorated stairway would have been painted for me. Blue disaster averted!

While I am putting away all of the bathroom supplies, and PAINT(!!!), Andrew disappears again. When I come back downstairs to look for him, there he is, sitting on top of the kitchen counter, drinking out of a sippy cup that I had just retrieved from the car. He looks up at me, makes a face, and shoves the cup out towards me. "Yuck," he says. I am beginning to think that those child leashes are a good idea.... or at least those child locks.

Quantity and Quality...

Why is it so hard to have a good day? Maybe there are more good points than I remember, but I definitely remember the bad parts...where I lose my cool, where I grow so frustrated at the screaming that I become the screamer. When did I become this person? I also wonder, why is it so hard for me to "play" with the kids? We can talk, we cuddle, but I am not very good at "playing." I feel selfish a lot of the time too--rushing through activities, rushing to get them to bed, rushing to get some time to myself. It is hard for me to slow down, to remind myself of the preciousness of the moment, to realize that flour all over the counter is not the end of the world. I need someone to remind me to take some deep breaths. I need someone to put me in time out. I start feeling like it was unfair of me to have had so many children so close together...but then, they enjoy eachother, so hopefully it will be a worthwhile payoff, at least someday?

John is very good at playing. He loses his temper too, and gets frustrated like I do, but he plays better. He comes home and they make forts, they tell stories, they build "booby traps." I feel very happy for the boys that they get this exposure and this relationship with their Daddy, but I also feel a bit jealous of John's ability to do this with them, and the amount of enjoyment they express. I rationalize that when John is home, he really only focuses on the two older boys, so it is a lot easier. He does not have to worry about "the Andrew factor." He also has spent his day locked away in an office somewhere, so he is excited to see his kids and play. I am with them all day and I find it hard to get energized to play in new and creative ways. John is also more energetic and playful by nature I suppose.

Hopefully somewhere within all of the quantity of time I spend with the guys there is some quality! Sometimes I feel very sad that perhaps there is not. I don't know why it is so hard for me to create it.

Creative...?

I keep taking these tests (okay, yes, most of them are on facebook so I am sure they are very accurate) and they keep telling me I am right-brained, I am creative, I am an artist...and it makes me question, what have I been neglecting? What have I been doing with myself? I love singing, I love creating art, I love thinking of creative ways to say things, or write things...but I don't really do much of it. I think part of it is the pessimistic/practical side of me--I assume I am not good enough to do much with it. Anyway, lately I am trying to ignore this voice and go with the creative. I am trying to cultivate this "talent." Trying to take time and write something every day, whether it be a poem, a blog post, or a bit of prose. Maybe eventually I will have the time to take a real art class and express myself that way...but for now...at least I am doing some writing.

I have realized that listening to music is somewhat inspiring to me, it affects my mood. I don't usually listen to much of it, so I have been adding that to my mid-day writing, computer, creative break-time :).

Pandora.com

If you haven't checked it out, http://www.pandora.com/ is a very fun, free website. You put in your favorite music, and then it makes up a radio station for you! It starts selecting other songs/artists that you might like. If a song comes up that you don't like, let them know and they won't play it again. Definitely the most enjoyable listening experience I have had in a while. I don't like half of the music on any given radio station, or even on any given CD. With Pandora, they are all songs that I like, mixed up and randomized--and you don't have to download anything. Too fun. Okay, somehow Pandora now thinks that I like the BeeGees--they are playing it now. Gotta go and and let them know...I don't.

An act of "green" rebellion

I am the first one to save energy. I hate spending money on electricity, air conditioning, etc. I think we waste far too much. Everytime I open a toy, or put out my garbage, I marvel at the sheer mass of waste and mess that even one family produces. I believe in conserving nature and the beauty of the earth. I buy the re-usable grocery bags at the stores. I don't want to breathe in toxic smoke, or fumes or anything similar. I enjoy the no-smoking rules inside restaurants. But I am GREATLY annoyed at the paranoia and emotionalism surrounding "Global Warming" "Climate Change," or whatever term they will choose tomorrow. I am annoyed by the insistence that those who believe are indisputably right, when there are plenty of scientists out there who disagree. It pisses me off. I think the world is much more threatened by the possibility of a nuclear explosion than the "man-made," gradual warming of the earth. I would MUCH rather money be spent on PEOPLE who really need help, like the homeless, veterans, sick children, or individuals with special needs. I am annoyed by people shoving this urgent, green hype down my throat.

I find it ironic that these same people who cry about keeping the earth beautiful want to spread gigantic windmills and solar panels across this same earth---to actually run anything by solar or windpower will require a ridiculous number of these ineffective eyesores. Perhaps eventually, they will make these energy sources more effective, but for now...

So, yesterday, at the mall, when the lady asked me if I wanted to "go green," by getting the gift card with a picture of some trees on it, I originally said, "yes." No skin off my nose. But then when she told me the card would be two dollars more, to help prevent "climate change," I was so annoyed by the term, I did the politically incorrect thing, and said, "no." She stared at me like I was a complete heathen. Yes, it is me, a green rebel. I am not interested in "buying" into the ridiculous hype--even if it is just 2 dollars.

It was a pre-menstrual, congested, eye-infected, potty-training accident, cereal-munching-husband, painful receding gum-line, kind of night.

I think that about says it. I got about 2 hours sleep and I'm miserable.

Insomniac Philosophy

So it is 1:14 in the morning, and I would much rather be in bed. But here I am thinking about women in Saudi Arabia being forced to wear black sheets, African women having their genitals mutilated, and how women across all cultures are traded as sex slaves, even in America. I have been reading this book to Aaron called, A Street Through Time. It shows pictures (drawings) of one place, and then walks you through time, showing you what that same place looks like over the centuries. When you see the Romans living luxurious lives, and then on the next page they are being sacked by invaders, it makes you realize that the luxuries we take for granted are not guaranteed. I see our culture completely taking for granted all the hard work and thought that has been put into creating the America that we live in today. More and more people expect the government to take care of them, and we expect that other cultures will be "nice" to us, as long as we are nice to them. Seems completely naive.

It makes me reflective on the future of women, even in America, because I think that women, as the weaker sex, are always vulnerable to reverting back to the status of wearing black sheets. We rely on justice and laws to keep us safe, and to support our claim of equality, but if we lose the ability to defend and uphold our laws, if we are snoozing at the wheel at the wrong time, "might" will make "right," once again.

A piece of grass went to heaven Mommy!

When my Grandma died last December, Aaron was upset that he had never thanked her for the Christmas presents she had sent him. We suggested and arranged for him to attach a"thank you note" to a helium balloon, and let it go up into the sky.

While we were in France, John's mom took Aaron to visit her mother's gravesite. Aaron never met "Granny", but suggested to Grandma Bev that he wanted to send her a note with a helium balloon (any excuse for a helium balloon). Anyways, Grandma Bev thought that it was an amazingly sweet idea, and bought the balloon and attached a note. In the process of getting the note ready, a piece of grass got stuck to the tape, and according to Aaron, is now up in heaven with "Granny."

I thought I'd be "grown up" by now...

Okay, so I have to MAKE myself make my bed. There is no way that I can tell my children they have to make their beds when mine is a disaster. Not a hard task, really, it's not. It is just one of those things that I can easily neglect.

Also, I love blue lollipops, Superman Icecream (if you live in Michigan you know what I mean), fruit snacks, fruit roll-ups, otter pops, and pretty much anything with artificial coloring. Walking around with a blue tongue is probably not the most attractive or mature thing to do, but it has to be done once in a while!!

My linen closet is an absolute disaster. Is anyone with me here? I should take a picture, but I am too embarrassed to bring the complete truth to the light of day. I was sure that when I grew up my messy bedroom would be a thing of the past. Suddenly my closets would be organized, my sheets neat and tidy on their shelves. I would start seeing fruit loops for the sugar coated nothingness that they are. I thought POOF! it would happen. Not so.

My Anniversary

It's my 15th Anniversary! Can't believe it. I am struck by how blessed that I have been, and I am almost paranoid and afraid to announce it because life is so unpredictable. I can't help but think about my family and friends who have not been so fortunate, and it breaks my heart. Some who have never found anyone to share their lives with, others who thought they had found their love, and have been desperately disappointed, some who have lost their spouses to a devastating illness, or tragic accident. Some have lived through MORE THAN THEIR SHARE of all of this. It is so hard to understand.

I also think about how hard it is to truly help other people. We cannot help cure a disease which will devastate a life (and the lives of their family), we cannot force another person to get help for their overwhelming depression, we cannot make our alcoholic friend become sober, we cannot find the soulmate for our friend who is desperate to be married, we cannot give our friends a job (most of the time)! We cannot remove pain from another's heart, no matter how much we desire to. I wish I were better at reaching out and coming beside people in their pain. It is hard for me to know how to comfort, to know how to help, or to have the patience to talk and spend time with the socially difficult. I feel so helpless in my desire to help my friends and family lead happier lives, and it saddens my heart, because I desperately want it for them! Prayers, phone calls, emails, cards, and gifts...that is the extent of my help, and I don't even do enough of that.