Slap Unhappy

My heart sinks whenever I see the kids' school pop up on my caller ID. "Best" case scenario was once Layla nose dived into a mud puddle (I feel legit proud), and didn't have backup clothes, and worst case was Judah getting his first ever migraine and screaming in abject misery in the middle of class. Usually it means they've puked or have a fever and I need to go get them. Never fun on any level.

Well, yesterday we captured the third kind of school phone call Pokemon: The Discipline Call.

Layla's sweet, sweet Kindergarten teacher left me a message just letting me know the story of the "white reminder" I would find in her folder today (a conduct report home to parents). She said Layla had slapped a friend, not very hard, but definitely a slap on the face and the little boy was upset. When she asked about it, Layla couldn't really say why she had done it--the boys hadn't hurt or teased her. The teacher said it was handled and over with as far as the school was concerned, but that it was extremely out of character for Layla. 

My first thoughts and feelings: I'm pretty angry because she knowsKNOWS that using your body to hurt or control someone else is unacceptable anywhere anytime (unless she's in danger). I'm embarrassed because I don't want my kid to be THAT kid, and what if the teacher thinks we are just crappy parents? I feel betrayed by Layla for making me look bad.

All that stuff is ABOUT ME. Not about Layla. That's not great.  That's parenting out of my own junk and insecurities instead of out of love for her and a desire to train her to be a healthy adult. 

So as I am waiting for the bus with Jesse, we decide to just ask her about her day as if we don't already know and just see how it plays out (because honesty has been a challenge for Layla sometimes, and want to give her practice at speaking hard truth). I am praying to just hear her heart and care for her--not myself. 

I am glad I had that time to think beforehand.

She hops off the bus and I asked about her day. She immediately says "I got a white reminder" kind of with a weird smirk on her face, almost a naughty smile, and I look at Jesse and am all "OH IT'S ON" inside. Benefit of Doubt: GONE. Little homie is laughing about this?!?!? Time to rain down the thunder. My "tsk-ing" finger is itching to be wagged.

But then she dissolves into tears, wailing, "I'm sad to talk about it." And my wagger finger disappears. I had not expected this gambit from this child. And it wasn't a gambit.

Come to find out, her day leading up to the slap was pregnant with angst. First, she had asked a few friends to play at recess and they had all been engaged with other buddies or activities and (not unkindly) declined. Then she did all the right classroom behaviors/tasks that typically earn her a reward but her teacher just happened to not notice this one time. And finally she left her snack box in the garage in the morning, so she didn't have anything during class snack time, and when she asked a friend for a piece of his cookie the friend said no.

That's a LOT of perceived rejection for a 5 year old who thrives on relationship, positive reinforcement, feeling treasured, social interaction--and SNACKS, by golly. 

"People make bad choices when they're mad or scared or stressed..." -Wise Trolls

Does any of this absolve her of or change the fact that she straight up broke a serious rule when she slapped her buddy? NO. Does it mitigate how we chose to discipline her? NO again. Does it add another separate layer to the situation? Yes.

Parenting isn't a zero sum game. Obviously Layla having her heart hurt doesn't give her a free pass to make bad choices (the classic "there's no excuse for that!" comes to mind). We have to handle the behavior and the heart. One phone call becomes two very different parenting tasks.

This is tiring and daunting and does not come easy to me. It's more efficient and mathematically tidy to just call it a wash: you had crappy stuff happen to you, and you did something crappy because of that. Even Steven. But almost every parent who is actually trying knows that's not going to work. When she's 17 and her boyfriend dumps her and she decides to shoplift some holographic nail polish because she's sad (the future has cool things) she WILL go to space jail. This stuff doesn't wash out (nor does holographic nail polish, I bet), it doubles down, it finds a way out, and the older you get the yuckier and scarier those ways out become.

It's not a wash, so we have to address it.

But we can't stop with JUST addressing the slap either, and saying, "we don't care WHAT you were feeling, you NEVER slap!" Because, while basically true, I'm betting what she hears and internalizes the most is the "we don't care WHAT you were feeling" portion of that statement.

I am betting that because I have felt that. "You and your feelings don't matter, just stop screwing up."

She'll come up with another outlet for her painful feelings because pain always has to go somewhere. The slapping is a symptom. Sure, it's expedient and necessary in the moment to treat symptoms, but real healing is out of reach if we stop there and don't treat the source of the infection. 

Two things we have to parent now: her heart and the slap.

Feelings and Actions. Our brains are REEEEEALLY good at mashing them together.

As parents, Jesse and I want to work to detangle these two things from each other; to bring attention to, and help the kids learn to identify and separate what they're feeling from what they decide to do about it. Because, without ever intending it, she merged them (we all do): I am feeling hurt, so it's okay for me to hurt someone else. 

My entire adult life has been spent trying to chop that thinking in half. To throw on the brakes and say, "Whoa, let's stop at 'I'm hurt' part and address that." Because honestly, it just feels better and easier and less risky to go around slapping people rather than talking about how I felt rejected and alone and un cared-for. 

That is called VULNERABILITY and both our lizard brains--that help us survive in the wild, and our sinful hearts--that say  "you can be a god and have the power," throw up unending resistance to showing it. 

It took me YEARS to realize that I am actually not simply an angry person. I am a deeply sensitive person with a soft heart who takes rejection or refusal (perceived or real) as a negation of my basic value. That's a scary proposition to stare in the face and my lizard brain was not about to let me show this "weakness."

But you know what isn't scary? Going on the attack.  I medicated pain by just getting super pissed super fast at anyone who hurt me. The knife in your back doesn't hurt so bad when you're flailing about with brass knuckles. Of course you also don't get the knife out or help heal the damage, but who cares as long as it makes you feel better right now?

So Layla's slap: what did we do? Ironically, something like this had JUST happened to me a few days earlier. I had felt incredibly rejected by someone that I treasure and had ended up crying about it! I am 33 year old and was crying about my friend not liking me enough (and yes, my first thought still was "Imma unfollow her on Instagram, block her on FB and NEVER talk to her again" because I'm basically a  maturity expert).

I told Layla about my heartbreak after she described what happened. I asked her if that was kind of how she had felt, like the people that she loved didn't love her back? She said it was. Then Judah chimes in, "I have felt that way too. It feels like everyone in the world is against you." Whoa. We're having a moment here! (Jesse had gone back to work at this point).

Layla lost privileges as a result of slapping her friend. But, while that was very important, we only spent maybe 5 minutes on that part before we felt like it was covered. We spent far more time talking about her heart and what makes it feel cared for and what makes it feel scared or empty. We talked about what to do in case she feels those painful feelings again, and how to stop them before they take over. 

If we'd freaked out and given away her barbie dolls or done something major to punish her and make the lesson stick, I bet she'd remember better and would never slap again. I  bet that memory would stay with her for a long, long time. Not in a good way. And honestly, she probably won't even remember the talk we had about feelings. But it's one more brick in something bigger we want to build. That gives her a firm foundation of knowing that her parents are a safe place for her heart. That she is loved and treasured and valuable.

Demolishing something is so much faster than building something, but it leaves rubble and nothing. We want to leave substance.

We don't want her to be so afraid to mess up that she does things right. We want her to be so secure in who she is and how she's loved that it naturally spills over into her decisions and the way she treats people. 

Layla decided to write an apology to her friend. She can't spell so Judah scribed while Layla dictated. It smells like purple Mr. Sketch: a grape paradise. It smells like fearless love.

  "People make bad choices when they're mad or scared or stressed...but throw a little love their way, and you'll bring out the best" -Wise Trolls.

WTFBMI

Layla just went for a well checkup to get her hearing and vision tested and get one more shot she needed to be up to date. We are doing this because she is going to start in a public Pre-K program next week and to register you need a vision/hearing/dental/nutrition screening.

As I was faxing the paperwork I noticed something weird on the boxes the doctor had checked and signed off on:

Um, what?! Her BMI is in the 97 percentile?! and NEEDS FURTHER EVALUATION!? I couldn't believe it so I went to the dot gov site for kids' BMI and typed in the info.

Ok so that escalated things. "Obese?!" THEM'S FIGHTING WORDS! You are calling this child OBESE? This child?!?!:

She looks like Ronda Rousey's Mini Me.

Ok, so, talk me down. I do know that BMI is a pretty crappy measurement in adults with a lot of muscle. When I was cut and working out all the time during my volleyball years at Tech, a BMI calculator said I was overweight, but a Georgia Tech's Bod Pod told me I actually had 13% body fat.  So I know that BMI is definitely not the end-all, be-all.

But in kids?! All I could find talked about BMI being faulty for giving false normal results in children who are, in actuality, obese. Um, okay, I am looking for a false-obese flaw though.

But even if BMI is a problematic tool, why is the school system, and my doctor, using this as a screening for her nutritional health?! I feel like no doctor would examine her and ever pronounce her obese.

She is certainly NOT the kind of kid who is a whippet-thin, string bean (her brother is). Girl has fabulous muscles and a booty for jumping. She's 4.75 years old, super active, eats a balanced and varied diet and wears store-bought clothes that are mass produced for 4-5 year olds. Are we really okay branding her with the Scarlet "O?!"

I want to shrug this off because I know that her heart is so perceptive and would notice the subtlest shift in my attitude toward her in terms of what she eats, how her clothes fit, or her body. I knew with girls that I might have to battle some body image stuff in their tween years and beyond, but just didn't predict this in Pre-K. I also didn't realize that the judgements and pressures from "the world" on my daughters' bodies could hurt me deeper than those I  receive about my own figure!

Go home, BMI, you are drunk.

 :

Giving Dragon Mommy the Morning Off

Things were getting bad around here. It felt like every.single.morning was the same crapstorm of asking/nagging/threatening/rushing the kids to get their basic stuff done to enable us all to get out the door. I got so tired of hearing Jesse and myself say "guys, come on!" that I was white-knuckling our corkscrew: it was a toss up between using it to shotgun a bottle of wine at 8 am versus using it to just lobotomize myself.

It's our own fault. Often Judah and Layla wake up way too early and we just phone it in and cave to get them to let us go back to sleep. "Go play iPad," we say. This is so successful at getting them out of our faces and occupied (scarily so...like Wall-E levels of screen obsession) that we let them keep playing on them while we get ourselves ready--until the last possible moment. (In case youre wondering: my parents gifted them one and we bought another on big sale to avoid bloodshed...we are those parents who gave every kid their own iPad...oh dear).

So with 20 minutes left before we have to leave for work and school no child has dressed or eaten or sanitized their bodies. Oh, and they are INDIGNANT to be asked to stop in the middle of their game/movie/hacking the FBI/whatever it is they're doing that is so crucial to their very lifeforce that the threat of having to stop so that they might ingest foodstuffs and go on living is THE MEANEST THING EVER to ask them to do. 

Wait a second! So we buy you, our 4 & 5 year old, a $300 toy, and for making you stop after an hour and a half of unrestricted play on it --to eat and be clothed and go get literate, MIND YOU--you are now angry at us and saying that life is unfair and this is the worst day ever?!?!

HERE COMES DRAGON MOMMY.

Rather than give in to the temptation to become a late-onset baby-shaker and jostle some sense into my first-world-proto-cusshole preschoolers, we decided something had to change. NO MORE ENTITLEMENT. STANDS WILL BE TAKEN! LINES: DRAWN! CAPS: LOCKED!

They are 4 and 5 and a half: they can handle chores. If this was 500 years ago they would have children of their own by now...or a cow or something, at least. They have chores when they get home from school (no play time or snack until they've put up shoes and coats and bags and lunchboxes and folders) and implementing those was so easy and effective, but for some reason we have just been the blind exasperated lunatics leading the blind spoiled freeloaders when it came to mornings.

An iPad is a modern damn marvel, the capabilities of which nation-states have fought wars over for much less throughout history. I love my kids, and they're cute and all, but I'm sorry, being my living spawn does not the god-given RIGHT to own one of these trinkets give you.

Starting today, they have to earn it. They each have a morning routine checklist to do and only when every item is done can they have iPad. I am no longer the bad guy hounding them about 12 tasks at once. Talk to the list, fools!

We are selling this as a privilege instead of a downgrade or loss of fun by saying if they get it all done, they get INFINITY time on the iPad before school. Until they realize the only way to maximize this is to wake up unholy early (a real possibility) this automatically should set a limit just because we have to be out the door by 8:25.

If they get everything done on all 5 days of the week, they will earn an allowance. $1 for each year they've been alive. Jesse balked at this being too much money, until I said, "How much would you pay stay sane...NAY how much would you pay to keep ME sane?!" because really my stress level getting ramped up is what is toxic to our household (working on it).

I made up an Excel spreadsheet because you know how I be, and we can change and add things if needed. I know these lists/sheets/boards aren't a new idea by any means, but they are revolutionary in this house so far. 

Layla's Sheet*. Complete with stock clipart? yes! because mama aint got time for cool design-y logos. Picking my battles...

We took basic human morning things like brushing teeth and wearing shoes and added a few age appropriate actual chores to the list because they need to contribute to the tribe! They put a sticker on when it's done (we dont care about the order) and for fun, I made little iPad tickets that are tear-off-able at the bottom for them to cash in for the (now locked) iPads when everything is done. They can tear off the dollar bill at the end of the week to get their paycheck. 

Day 1: stunner!

We still had to help guide them through everything today and help keep them on task, but it was so much better to say, "check your list!" rather than saying "WHERE THE FRIG ARE YOUR SOCKS?!" after telling them 6 times to put them on.   And of course the novelty will surely wear off with the stickers and tickets. I'm okay with that...we are trying to create responsible, non-jerk humans, not an actual cartoon paper currency economy. 

We love that their desire for the iPad is now the constant reminder of what they need to get done rather than our words and effort.

Judah's Sheet*. We made feeding the dogs and picking up an entire room his new jobs. He did them like it was cake. 

I could show you Noa's list but it's just a picture of boobs and poop, sooooo, nah.

These sights have never been so beautiful to me before:

Oh yeah. She's feeling it.

Veg, my hardworking contributor, VEG I SAY!

Below is a link to my actual spreadsheet if you want to download it and edit it for your kids own needs. It has the tearable tickets at the bottom and everything is sized to fit the standard little circle stickers that you'd use for garage sale prices or any other fun mini sticker...or checkmarks when stickers get old. I had to max out my margins.

Morning Kid Routines

(let me know if this doesnt work after you open and download...this is my first file-share attempt on the blog.)

They just got home and walked up to the fridge and looked at their sheets. Judah goes, "I love our new list."  And I'm all Emperor Palpatine: "Yes, my son. Yes." 

*One thing we blatantly forgot and I hope someone tries to Jesus juke/call me out on is a devotion. We have been doing the She Reads Truth ABC memory verses that we have pretty pretty flashcards for (wall sized and pocket sized for the car). They get candy when they can recite their verses...so that's separate but probably should go on the list.

Goodbye Pacis: 2014 Edition

For some reason we seem to always try to rehabilitate Layla off pacis around her half-birthday, May 14. We did this last year so that we could have a little mini celebration (complete with half of a cake) to amp up the fanfare and gloss over what must seem to a 3 year old to be a horrifying trauma of saying goodbye to her most treasured comfort object. 

I guess it was just sort of "tradition" then that we did it again this year during the same week. "Again?" you say? Yes, again. because after three weeks of cold turkey paci-sobriety last year, we gave Layla back her pacis. We decided she just wasn't ready and that we were doing it mostly because we felt like "we were supposed to." As in, it looks weird for a 2.5 year old to have a paci. 

Deciding to let her keep one of the last vestiges of babydom was one of our best parenting moves yet. We stopped caring how it "looked" so much and started paying attention to what it gave Layla to have the paci in certain situations (car, bed, sick). I cant really explain it beyond saying, we are her parents and we just knew she wasnt ready yet.

But I knew after her first ever visit to the dentist last fall, that we were approaching "need to" realms in terms of going off the paci. You can already see her top teeth warping out from that little plastic imposter of my boob being in there so much. We'd love to avoid spending thousands on metal torture devices for her mouth when she's older, therefore we felt like three and a half was the time. She had also during the past year shown signs of not "needing" it as much as just liking it at times.

We've been talking to her about giving the pacis away for months. We told her that when May came we would get her a wonderful surprise and then one day she could trade her pacis in for that treasure. We also encouraged her little budding big-sisterhood by telling her that the new baby would need them. Every time we talked about the future moment of saying bye-bye pacis, she was totally on board. 

Last night we decided to pull the plug.

You can see what a strung-out little addict she looks like when she's hitting the paci-pipe (and you can see where Judah gave her one strand of bangs with my sewing scissors, and you can HEAR what a freak i am), and how ready she appears to be for this milestone (or at least for the bribe that come along with it).  I also ADORE how she immediately plans what "events" she is going to wear each look to. And how she calls it a "Let It Go" toy (in case you thought she was saying LEGO...no).

And then shortly thereafter this was the scene:

Layla was happy as a clam in an Arrendelle fjord to be in scratchy lace netting and polyester. Judah shocked us all by asking to put on the Anna costume ("it's just silly, mommy, i'm not really a girl") since he has been very anti-"girl things" lately despite our attempts to not force gender lines on either of them. We were happy to oblige and Judanna was a fetching sight (even whilst scratching himself..."dont know if he's elated or jock-itchy, but he's somewhere in that zone").

We let her go to bed as Elsa (Judah was ready to take off his Anna duds rather instantly and ask for a Kristoff costume...which, stupidly, is not a thing) and did their normal bedtime routine, reiterating how proud we were of her for making such a wise choice. Afterward, Jesse went to the store to fetch me some ice cream (pregnancy stereotype anyone?) and I was in the studio sewing next to their room.

About ten minutes after putting them down, I heard soft crying and talking. I had been prepared for a full-on fit of "I DONT WANT THESE DRESSES GIMME BACK MY PACI, YOU CON ARTISTS" but not for this. She wasnt even yelling to be heard by us, she was just softly pouring out her sadness. Oh, my heart.

I went in their room (Judah was thoroughly unconscious by now) and climbed into bed with her. Her little face was soaked with tears and she was just quietly murmuring about "mah pathi." I told her I knew how hard it was to give something you love up, but that I promised it would be okay, and even better, eventually.

I looked around and saw how she had previously gotten up and gathered a few favorite objects in bed with her to use as a substitute (a doll, more of their binky cloth diaper snuggle rags, a pony), and for a moment I even thought about offering her her own thumb or something else to chew/suck on, but then thought better of it, since that would be totally defeating the purpose. She said, "I wanted to give my pacis away so I could be big, but I want them back now." She wasnt whining or being demanding (which made it all the more hard and heartbreaking), just mourning what feels like a huge loss to her little heart. 

I told her how proud i was of her and how it was going to be so much better soon. After I left, we didnt hear another peep from her until this morning (when she was a little weepy again not to get her wake-up dose of paci...but quickly got over it). 

As I thought about what had just happened, it hit me so hard that maybe this whole paci saga was more a lesson for me than for her. Because in an instant I saw how many times God has gently told me it was time to let go of something that i have nursed or held onto for too long--a relationship, a sin pattern, a job, bitterness, a goal, unforgiveness, control--that I simply dont need anymore. 

It seems like every time He has tenderly told me, "it's time to put this aside now, child," I have screamed and cried and raged and doubted and fought to hold on to whatever it was, to control the situation so I could just have everything back the way I wanted. When I  finally do let go, how quickly I  go searching for something else to quickly fill that empty place, and how it never ever works out and just leaves the hole gaping all the bigger. And in the end, how I resignedly end up on my butt, empty-handed and red-eyed, throat raw from bargaining and denying, and I finally just surrender to what He has left me with: Himself and His promise. And how finally--after so much extra, self-inflicted, pain--I am ready to dive in to the promise He has made that this way is better for me: not because it will be happier necessarily, but because it's His way and He knows.

Layla completely schooled me in how beautiful this process can be. She handled it with such trusting grace. She was still sad, and still misses her pacis, but when i said, "I promise; you can do this, and Daddy and I will help you, and there are even better things on the other side of this," she really grabbed onto that and BELIEVED. No screaming, no scheming, just faith like a child that her mommy and daddy's promise was true. She let me wipe her tears and was comforted by my presence and my acknowledgement of the legitimacy of her pain (things I rarely stop to honor Jesus for in my own suffering).

With so much uncertainty and change in our future, I have been getting taken to town on faith and what it means to believe the promise through tears. I am so thankful that Jesus used my precious little Layla to model what that can look like when it's done with unblinking faith.

I'll sum it up by staying on theme with the entire post: That kind of faith doesn't suck.

in defense of the selfie.

if you tend to think a selfie is always a self-centered, vain, self-indulgent way to fish for superficial compliments, this might make you reconsider. sometimes it's an act of bravery. 

if the lie you hear is "i'm fat/ugly/old/gross, and i don't want anyone to look at me," then posing and posting a selfie might not be arrogance, but rather having to faith to stand up to that lie.

at 31 years old and therefore in neither the middle-aged, nor the adolescent stage of my life, i still manage to feel all the insecurities and self-hate talk that ALL the women in this video express. there are times when i will not go to an event or out of the house because i feel so unworthy of being looked at. that is a disgusting lie, and even though i feel like i am more secure in myself than a lot of people, blammo, there i am believing it and letting it dictate my life.

the main stigma on selfies is probably that they are overused by, or somehow only FOR "beautiful" people (i mean the mainstream, magazine-y definition of beautiful here).  so when someone posts one, i will find myself going, "oh she must think she looks hot/cute in this pic!" so judgey by me. i'm sure there are plenty of instances where a selfie is posted to shame others, to produce jealousy, envy or lust or just to feel the temporary high of being wanted and affirmed by comments or likes or weird emoji rebuses.

but before we shame every girl who ever turned the camera around and go-go-gadgeted her arm to new lengths to capture a selfie, maybe we should consider that this selfie is of a scared little girl--whatever her age--daring to believing that her face was created by the same creator and with the same care and pride with which he painted every sunrise and hung the stars (and, unfortunately, in some cases with which he made ducks' faces, it would seem).

i tried to think of a way i could write this post without actually including a selfie of my own in it. there's just not!! not if i really want to choose to be brave. to declare my worth. to kick the liar in the gonads.

a dozen quips about my imperfections have been intentionally left out here.

ARG okay, nope NO NO NO i cant let it slide. was SO close to publishing this, but no. it's a matter of principle now.  that picture above isnt a selfie from today...i still wasnt feeling confident/brave enough for that. so i picked one i had (and liked) from a few weeks ago (taken possibly at the exact moment of conception if my memory, calendar, and knowledge of sperm speed serve me)! 

no, i dont HAVE to post a selfie every day, and no matter what i look like; HOWEVER, when i thought about those middle school girls in the video, those moms, and really about my girl, i just couldn't let THIS POST be one where i hid and put upwhat i judged as a prettier version of myself. no no no. 

minutes ago:

layla, if you're reading this: i'm worth being seen. and so are you!

converslaytion

that's a title that works because it's a conversation with lay and because she slays me. puns inside of puns: next level, yall.

so i was only attempting to get a cute shot of her outfit this morning. because last night, for the first time in memory, i was in a store, saw a mannequin and bought the entire outfit so that a member of my family could look just like that soulless toddler fashion statue. i straight up got marketed to and didnt even care. 

*for the record the store was old navy: anorak, long sleeve tee, jeans. the online prices are different right now from what i paid in store, but my total for 3 pieces was $29--i think they add up to $33 online right now. oh, and her moccasins are target.*

and boy if the outfit was irresistibly cute on an inanimate object, it just exploded my whole brains out when it was modelled by my own salty lil' progeny of amazingtude (which is her native american name, by the way).

i starting taking pictures (which turned out super grainy and yuck quality because i guess i'm just an idiot) and boy did she start telling me some things. i dont remember exactly what she was talking about so i cant recreate the conversation, but i can--with some confidence--identify the general thrust or main idea of what she was saying in each frame.

"let's dish, girlfriend. i'm an excellent listener." 

"OH EM GOSH, no he didnt!"

"NOT OKAY! uh-unh. heck NAW. kick him to tha curb!"

"okay, i have to be straight with you here."

"can i just be real for a second? you might not like what i have to say, and sometimes when i say things in honesty, and you freak out."

"and you're all, 'AWBAWHWHAWAW, you're going to timeout, young lady!' it's super embarrassing, mom...for you, i mean. because this is what you look like in those moments."

"but i'm all like, this is me. i drop truth bombs. i'm just spittin' pure layla here"

"AND I AM THE SUPREME LEADER OF THE UNIVERSE. ALL WILL DO MY BIDDING."

"okay, whoa. i went too far there. i apologize." 

and that's 20 seconds spent in conversation with a 3 year old layla dukes. 

\\ reminders: \\

today is the last day to enter the giveaway for the gorgeous free christmas print from caleb faires.

tomorrow is the last day to order things with standard shipping (not rush) from my etsy shop for christmas delivery 

\\bonus\\

and maybe not super important, but in the interest of adding laughter to (and stealing precious minutes from) your hectic holiday schedule: here are 3 brilliantly written things that have made me LOL way more than expected in the past week. (i think all of them have some swears, so look out if that sort of thing offends you deeply...though if that's the case, you probably wouldnt be here anyway).

this is the funniest thing i have read in a long time  and anyone who feels like a dirty peasant when they look at a williams-sonoma, restoration hardware, or pottery barn catalogue will enjoy greatly. 

if you've ever been in charge of a newly mobile baby, you will think this was stolen from your life.

and if you have a pulse and/or are baffled by american girl dolls, this is for you.

lofty ambition: going up!

it's finally time. time to make pretty the magical room of wonders, aka "the playroom/judah and layla's shared bedroom." 

i was pretty pleased with us for pulling off the skeleton and function of this room last january, and was a-okaywith putting off making it pinterest-worthy cute for a few months until i could decide on and get the motivation to do it right. no more! 

and, YOU GUYS, it turns out that waiting was a brilliant move, because now i have gotten the opportunity to team up with IKEA Atlanta to finish this room in style. seriously. this is a big deal that i am BEYOND excited for. if youve been here for like 2 nanoseconds, you know my undying love of IKEA, so the fact that this partnership is happening makes me squealy loco beyond measure. 

i'm feeling very "david after the dentist" about the whole affair. IS THIS REAL LIFE?!?!?!

there are some fundamental challenges to solve in this room from the get go:

1. STORAGE: there is no closet. because the kids sleep in there. 

2. SPACE: this room is not big even for a single bedroom. at about 110 square feet, we're going to need some magic to make it a pretty and functional multi-use room for active and growing kidlets

so before i even set foot in IKEA, i knew we'd need to DIY ourselves some vertical space. i've said it before,  but the maximization of vertical space is my love language. our house may be tiny, but it has vaulted ceilings. so how can we use this to our advantage in the kids' room/playroom?

let's find out together, shall we?

BEFORE:

 as you walk in, this wall is to your immediate left. a good 8 feet of vertical NOTHING. that's a LOT of space the tiny little 3 foot minions could be using.

i decided: WE NEED A PLAY LOFT UP THURR!

so while i was at work one wednesday, i ghetto-designed a plan for that space that would give about 21 extra square feet (not much but a big deal when youre only starting with 110) of play/read/chill area and add some unexpected and unique adventure funk to the boring room.

i had no idea how much this would cost, if jesse had the skillz to pull off the carpentry, or if we would ever finish it (since our kids sleep time is when we DIY).

jesse is wonderbot. wednesday night while i was at girls group he went and got the materials (for $70 total!!!) and on thursday morning, layla had this set up welcoming her for her birthday!

ready, set, everyone freak out about safety. it was like 2 seconds, and this was not the finished product. (we took the fan blades off too after big mommy got stuck in them on her way up the ladder, like some vertical subway turnstile of hilarity. Also I was pantsless when this happened thank your lucky stars it wasn't photographed)

by friday afternoon jesse had created THIS:

can you even handle it? (if not, there are built in handles right there. #awesomejoke)

this joker is beyond safe. jesse and i both got up there and jumped around to be sure it was ultra-secure. we almost didnt come down because of FUNNNNNNNN (and because no one brought up a pee jar).

fun space above, play and storage below. its like we created shelves to store our tiny people on!

little rapunzel (que apropos!!) took the first climb up the tower. (in her polyester nightmare of a disney nightgown that she picked out on her birthday the night before, despite all of my steering her toward way cuter stuff...she may get married wearing this dress)

 let down your HAY-UR!

it must be noted that judah is terrified of this thing. jesse, in a rookie move, taught him the phrase "afraid of heights" and he has been invoking it nonstop against all my cajolings to try to get him up there. at first he just kept saying "there needs to be a rug up there" and i thought he just didnt like the hard smoothness. but now he is locked and loaded with the acrophobia and staying put.

he came all the way up once with (aka ON) me when i threw the iPad and some cookies up there the first day it was completed, but the lil' baby bird was shaking the whole time, his heart all aflutter. so i havent even mentioned it to him since then (cant be giving him a complex!).

he loves the ladder and the jumping-off-of-it-onto-people opportunities it affords him.  he had only gone up the the 3rd step on his own. i would say, "do you think you can get to level 4?" and he'd always say no. well he finally made it to level four 3 days ago, but he has decided that since he IS four, he will wait until he's five to go up another rung. 

mark your calendars: may of 2016 he is scheduled to reach the loft itself.

so thats our first step towards making this room a stone cold stunner. 

we will probably post a tutorial on how we made/secured this beast soon, as well as plenty o' more progress as it progresses. 

dukes out.

ps a million thanks and hugs and free beers to you all for the outpouring of love on my previous post. the emails, comments, texs, fb messages and just general love and empathy i got from yall blew me away and carried me through. hands and feet of jesus, i tell ya.

i scream

it became a family tradition over the summer to go out for ice cream after dinner once or twice a week. technically, it was yogurt, or yoghurt if you feel fancy and want to use the kings english or perhaps fro-yo if you want me to punch you square in the mouth. once i figured out how to beat that newfangled tricky "pay per ounce" racket they've got going, it became a [semi]solid treat that got us out of the house on weeknights and made me no fatter than a bowl of cheerios would (TCBY white chocolate mousse....that's that only way to fly). 

of course it may have also contributed to judah having a cavity at his first dentist appointment yesterday, but he rocked the laughing gas like a pro, got his filling, a pair of sunglasses, a fake mustache set, a telescopic wand, and naturally loved the whole experience (i mean, who wouldnt). so i am officially a fan of the kiddie dentist, yall. i do wonder how judah will feel on christmas morning when santa brings him a piece of paper that says "general anesthesia and a composite filling back in october were your BIG gifts! ho, ho ho!" 

FTR: layla utterly punked out and refused to let anyone come near her. she was straight up J Edgar Hoover up in that joint, eyeing anyone who came within 4 meters of her with unadulterated suspicion.  she would be squarely IN my lap but if her proximity klaxons were triggered she would try to climb UP me as if to be MORE in my lap, or possibly inside of me. it was like dealing with a baby lemur in a room full of wolves (?...what is the natural predator of a lemur?).

we did manage to get her to just open up for the tool-free dentist to have a looksee. he instantly pegged us as paci enablers. her bite is HORRIBLE. this is sad because neither jesse or i needed braces (though i had them because a family friend was an orthodontist and we got them for free just to fine tune me...thanks, buddy!) and were blessed with great spacing and bite. these attributes are the shining stars of our gene pool and we have managed to undo it by drugging our baby with a rubber nipple. luckily, it will self-correct if we get her clean (again!) before her next molars come in. 

anyhow, since it has been awhile since the munchkins got any blog love, here's a smattering of pics from one ice cream outing we took in september and some of their quotes/interests/behavior from lately.

um, why did all the people who warned me about teenage girl drama neglect to mention a close rival: four year old boy drama! judah is hilariously sensitive, fashion-obsessed, and prone to soap-opera level outbursts of emotion. 

he is so very particular about what he wears and it changes from week to week so you can never be sure what is a solid go-to and what is basically the equivalent of asking him to wear soiled toilet paper. one day i forced him to wear a button up shirt to church (i think jesse was preaching so i cared a little more). afterward we went to lunch where we ran into a friend of his. the friend was feeling very shy and wouldnt talk to judah at first. judah came running up to me and said, "logan ignored me. i KNEW i shouldn't have worn this outfit!" i about died. 

this girl. um, there really just arent words for how freaking hilarious and sweet and sassy she is. she could play pretend for hoooooooooours. no toys necessary; just you and her and a million scenarios where she is a baby fox or you are a monster. god forbid you play with her in close confines before you've brushed your teeth, though. girlfriend wastes no time asking, "wha da tink? da yo breff?" why, yes layla it is. maybe if you werent one millimeter away from my face 2 seconds after i have woken up, it wouldnt be so TINKY.

she seems to have inherited her mommy's penchant for turning a beautiful phrase. the other night, completely serious, she told jesse in response to him telling her she couldnt have a marshmallow,  "you a penis face." FIRST: let me assure you she has nevvvvvvvver heard us say this, and we only use the word penis in its correct anatomical sense. i had to turn and exit the room and let jesse try to keep a straight face and explain to her why we dont use words in that way.

all of a sudden this kid can write and name any letter that he sees. it's insane to watch a child becoming literate. he has always been a bit behind his classmates (late birthday, he's a boy, just because) in the fine motor skills used in writing and drawing, but just in the first two months of the school year, his penmanship has exploded and is really very nice and tidy, and he can spell any word that he sees so loud and proud and fast. 

on sunday he wanted to go into big church with me for the music before going into his class. we were singing a song with the lyrics up on the screen as always. it was a quiet, slow song and i was simultaneously mortified and tickled when he started SCREAMING out the individual letters as the words flashed by on the screen during the oh so introspective "amazing grace." we had to high-tail it out of there at that point (i told him we were going to get a treat from daddy's office for his awesome spelling). 

layla has picked up some funny syntax. if you tell her something we are going to do or something she needs to do, she likes to reply, "why not?" it's very jarring. she doesnt mean it like, "sure, why not!" so i will say, "lay, let's go brush your hair." and she will go "why not?"  and i am just like, "what? no, um. huh? that question makes no sense." how do you explain to a 2 year old that that phrase can only fittingly go in response to a negative statement? i think she uses it now just to bring me up short. #winner

the thing about have kids 17 months apart? well, everyone says they'll be best buddies. but this didnt kick in for a looooong time. i would say 2.5 and 4 have been the magic ages where they're finally becoming playmates and equals. i am astounded every time i come upon a scene where they are having a conversation or doing the back and forth of real play together. i feel all Mr. Burns-like: "yes, it's finally working! exxxxxxcellent!"

the other day i was getting ready for a party while jesse went to pick up the babysitter. i had tried on a dress and needed to take it off. in some freakish MC Escher turn of events, i somehow physically could not unzip myself, despite having just zipped myself in. my shoulders would not bend the right way or something. so i went to judah and asked him to unzip me. he gave it a tug (with only one hand and no supporting other hand beside the zipper) and declared that it was too hard. i coached him a bit, telling him it was a tricky zipper (one of those invisible ones that are hard to pull anyway) but that he could definitely do it. he tried one more time and then shook his head, "i just cant do it, mommy. this is a mighty one."

ah, so mighty.

laylaisms: 

cuhmote: remote control

tee-wah-wah: tiara

pin-cess wahna: princess wand

tu-tu: any skirt

cocoa pops: any cereal

carly and lo-lo "charlie and lola"

this kid has suuuuuuuch the tender heart. one morning i was sorting laundry and judah randomly told me that he "didnt really like me". i told him that that was kind of hurtful to say to someone out of the blue and that i loved him so much but that my heart was a little sad. i decided to just move on though, and a few minutes later i noticed him kneeling on the rug a few feet away from me with his head down against the carpet. i asked him what he was doing and he said, "i'm just sittin' here and trying to think of how to cheer you up." it was really eye-opening since i hadnt been trying to put a guilt trip of any kind on him and had truly moved on after telling him about my initial feelings. the fact that he took it upon himself to make me feel better told me a lot about his heart and how readily he would take responsibility for someone else's emotions. i feel like i learned a really important lesson in how to parent this particular child in that moment. note to self: do NOT try to manipulate judah's behavior with guilt trips!

i, too, am a very serious grapeviner

we may have a master manipulator on our hands with little ladypie. if i tell her no she cant have/do something, she almost invariably says, "my daddy said i could" (ironically, THIS would be the perfect time for her to drop a "why not?"). she does the opposite thing when its jesse telling her no "mah mommy said yes". if claiming permission from the non-present parent doesnt work, or if we have to discipline her for something, she will go outside the immediate family. her favorite names to invoke as she wails for justice are "I WANT......" grandaddy, garrett (her beloved bruncle), caleb (a fellow two year old and her best friend), and waffle (a deceased cat). the only one of those who WOULD take her side is caleb...so we're good.

one morning while he was freaking out about not being able to wear the same shirt he had worn to school the day before, we had a heartbreaking peek into how satan is already trying to lie to judah. we had told him his mickey shirt was dirty and he'd have to chose something else. this devolved so quickly in his head and suddenly he said, "this is my number one nightmare! i wont wear something cool to school and all the kids will call me a silly ballerina boy!" jesse and i were flabbergasted. we asked if he had seen that situation happen on a show or if anyone he knew had ever called him names. he said no, that had never happened in real life, but he was insistent that this was his "#1 nightmare." it was heartbreaking to hear the fear he had for this kind of cruelty or ostracizing ever happening to him, even in the hypothetical.

note to self: build up this kids inner worth and never, even playfully, mock his appearance or masculinity.

layla does this heart-warming thing lately where when i sing her her bedtime song (usually L-A-Y-L-A to the tune of bingo was his name-o) and i am resting over her propped up on my elbows, she reaches up, grabs my neck, and pulls me ohsoclose to her until i am smothered in pillow-fluffand in love. smushed cheek to cheek with her. this is all the more touching because she went through a phase there where she really didnt like to show affection to me. getting her to hug or kiss me or even say i love you was hard and it was taking a toll on my heart. rather than getting upset or forcing it, i just decided to ignore it and pour more of my love into her. it totally worked gangbusters on my little spitfire and i am getting 200% more snuggle output these days.

yum. three scoops, please!

we went to a fall family festival at our church last weekend (i was giddy with glee because fall festivals are my favorite!). within 3 minutes of arriving, the kids had had popcorn, cotton candy, and played a game where they eat a powdered donut and then get a candy reward once they eat it successfully. it was loco junk food heaven. after a few hours judah came over to sit by me and was rubbing his tummy. he said "i think i had too many goodies, mommy." and i was like, yeah, that sounds about right. and he goes, "why am i talking so slowly?" like a drugged little zombie. well, probably because you are super close to barfing, buddy. 

there are two horses that live in a pasture on our road. layla wanted to name them chocolate and vanilla (one is brown and one is white). judah wanted to name them thunder and lightning. so we compromised and now we greet Chocolate Lightning and Vanilla Thunder several times each day. i soon after decided that Vanilla Thunder would be my alias if i ever became a spy...or a stripper.

yup. that's about right.

re: his fashion sense, when judah dresses himself, he will always first go check himself out in the full length mirror, and then he asks, "do i look totally awesome, mommy?" and just this morning, he was not excited about having to wear a jacket so he told me, "i dont think this jacket and these shoes go." um, has he been sneaking in to watch what not to wear reruns at night? 

note to self: these kids are mind-boggling little treasures and i refuse to wish any of this stage away.