How did we get here?

As we find ourselves in an unexpected situation, and one in which we don't know how long we'll be (aka, we're livin' with our very generous in-laws) I remember a quote.

I can't remember the quote exactly, and I'm too lazy to look it up because I don't know where to find it, but it talks about when the Saints were commanded to settle Kirtland, and even though they didn't know how long they'd be there, they were commanded to settle it "as if for years."

Now, I'm pretty sure all parties involved hope we're not here for years, but I do realize the wisdom in making our lives functional, especially for my children. I need to have a schedule, move out of the suitcases, make them do chores every once in a while, etc.

Hopefully this will help them feel more at home, more comfortable, more loved, and give them some semblance of stability when the rest of our lives are in an upheaval.

Isn't it Ironic?...

...Don't you think?

The irony of Mother's Day? I want to do anything except my mothering duties.

There, I said it.

Systems vs. Schedules

I've always hated schedules. Always. I find it incredibly boring to do anything the same time every day. I only make exceptions for eating. How did I ever survive school? Sometimes I toy with the idea of keeping Sam home from school just so I won't have to get her ready...again...just like yesterday and just like tomorrow. But I don't, because that would be a really stupid habit to get into and a really dumb lesson to teach my child.

So, in an effort to add order to my life without adding the stifling chains of an hourly agenda, I try to come up with systems in which I can move flexibly, all while spending quality time with my kids, preserving order and sanity...and a clean house...and if my kids learn something in between, that's just icing on the cake, baby!

Here's what we have so far:

1. Monday is FHE and we always have smoothies for treat afterwards.

2. Tuesday has become "Treat Tuesday" because Tuesdays are always the most blah day of the week, at least that's what I remember from my school days. Our after-school snack is something totally unhealthy and delicious. It may even be a trip to Wal-Mart to get a donut or to Braum's for an ice-cream.

3. Doing a chore every day is not working for us. (I'm talking chores other than the usual, make bed, get dressed, brush hair and teeth, pick up toys, etc.) So I've decided that we will have bath night every other night. And on the nights we don't do bath, we will do an extra chore together. It's working well so far. :)

4. I just added this one: If we can get the house "Sabbath ready" on Saturday, then we can go out to eat for dinner. This includes getting clothes ironed, a quick wipe-down of the house, or catch-up on chores I've neglected that week (which is the norm around here...) I also need to include getting the diaper bag stocked with snacks and making sure I actually have crayons for the coloring books. How does this keep happening? Anyway, a night I don't have to cook? Or clean-up? You better believe I'm willing to make this happen! We've only done it once, and it was fun. Thank you, McDonald's!

Motherhood Panic

Did I kiss my kids enough today?
Tell them I love them?
Hold them when they ask?
Snuggle?
Play enough games? (any games?)
Read enough stories?
Smile enough?
Use a nice voice?
Sit with them at meals?
Listen to unintelligeable stories or dream recounts?
Laugh at all?
Say more compliments than commands?

Probably not. But I wonder if the answer to all of these questions will ever be "yes." I'm sure there's always more a parent can do. But, in my quest to grow and become a better parent, at least I was better than yesterday.

We could all take a lesson from the Eskimos

You know how everyone always says that the Eskimos have so many words for snow? How many is it? Anyway, I guess that detail's not important, but it is an interesting fact that many cultures have numerous words for things they are constantly surrounded by. So that begs the question: How come we, as mothers, don't have a more expansive vocabulary to describe the subtleties of the following?:

*poop
*boogers
*crying (you know, to distinguish the fake ones from the urgent ones, tired ones, hungry ones, etc.)
*spit-up
*messes left on the high chair tray (more on this later)
*laundry stains
*whining
*heart breaks (those of you and your children)
*differing levels of naughtiness
*creative punishments
*the mysterious shmear that ends up on your clothes at the end of the day

But also
*kisses
*hugs
*happy squeals
*the "I love you's"
*their need for you...
*our need for them.

What else are we surrounded by?

...and I just lost my train of thought.

I usually have a pretty good memory for birthdays and other schedules. And I still do. But since having kids...things have changed. Now there's a new problem on the block. For example, the problem is not in forgetting that Christmas is on December 25th, the problem is in remembering that it's the 25th in the first place.

Which brings me to today...

Picture this: I go to the gym, start signing my kids in and ask the date.
"Is it the 26th?" I ask hopefully. (Because if it is, it's my mom's birthday.)

"No, it's the 27th."

"Oh crap. Yesterday was my mom's birthday."

Most times I know the day of the week, and I have Sam's school to thank for me knowing even that much. Before being a mother of a school-aged child, weeks would go by without me knowing the date. Days would go by without having to step into the great outdoors. With our advent into the public school system, my motherhood oblivion has gone from completely unaware to knowing it's at least Wednesday, or "red day" at school, or even that it's pizza day for school lunch. I'm making progress.

Motherhood makes you empathetic in so many ways. One of those ways: potty training. It's an experience so horrible, that it should only be considered the second initiation into the not-so-secret club called, "Parenthood." (The first being the first 6 weeks after having the child.) One of those ways is insight and understanding of why in the world your mom called you your sister's name all.the.time, or just simplified things and called you to dinner as a unit: "The Girls." Now it makes perfect sense why someone who stays home all day would need to lie down and read a book by the time you got home from school. Aaaaaah, yes. It all makes sense. Perfect sense. Too much sense. I wish it didn't make as much sense as it does.

So, sorry, Mom. Sorry for forgetting yesterday was the 26th. I'm doing the best I can. And I did get you a little something, but I'll just have to bring it to you when I see you next week!

Here's to moms who are doing the best they can with what brain cells survived after each pregnancy, and heaven help the kids that can't understand the toll of it all, and never will...

...until they have kids of their own.

Laughter Saves Lives

I've decided that being a mom is hilarious. It is. It has to be. If it wasn't, I'd be dead by now. I think my kids are funny: they say funny things and do funny things. But then there's that "other category." You know what I'm talking about. The category where your kids do such things that make you want to cry, run away, rip your hair out, punch a hole in the wall, crawl back into bed, or just plain throw them out the window.

After the first few horrifying experiences (especially the ones that happen in public) I think I've just learned to laugh at them all. Because they are funny, in a tragic sort of way. And when you have three kids in three years, they happen so often, you just gotta roll with it. (Or perhaps, maybe, it's because I'm such a broken woman that I don't care anymore. But that can't be it, can it?)

Behold, some Fisher tragedies:





And then there are those things that are just straight-up funny.