swimming lessons, riding a bike, and other tortures we inflict upon ourselves

Its summer, a time when kids ride bikes, swim in the local pool, jumprope with neighbor kids as you all just chill and unwind from a long school year.

Unless you live at my house. Todays adventure in parenting involved swimming lessons for my two oldest, K and A. Now I knew going into these lessons that K was not at all thrilled with the idea. I was prepared to deal with some whining and moaning and dragging of feet while we were trying to get out the door. I was not however, prepared for the knock down, drag out, kicking and screaming fit she threw while in the middle of her class. All of the sudden there she was yelling at her instructor who had the gall to suggest K try the kick board while the teacher held her up. I was mortified. I hurried over to calm her down and talk to her because that will normally work. Not so much today. I tried telling her she could do this, that the teacher was there to keep her safe, that all 7 year olds know how to swim. I tried telling her that if she truly wanted to be a Jedi Knight( a WHOLE other story) she would have to be able to swim, I tried threatening her with never going to a the pool to play again and nothing worked. K ended up sitting against the wall while her class finished its lesson and A finished her class across the pool.

Now here is the question. Why does she need to learn to swim? Whats the big deal if she never does? Will she be that much less of a grown up if she never learns? What will she gain if she suffers through this? If I suffer through this?

I think what this battle comes down to, is that K needs to learn to swim because right now she thinks she can't. She thinks she will fail even before she tries and I worry about that mind set. She is scared of something she thinks will destroy her if she has to face it and I worry about that too. I don't want K to ever be afraid to try something simply because she might fail. I don't want her living in fear of something she THINKS she can't face. I want her to have a strong enough belief in herself so the next time something is hard and scary she can look back and say "hey wait, I faced this before and did something I thought I couldn't do. This is nothing I can't handle." I want her to learn to trust me when I tell her she is good enough, she is strong enough, she is brave, and she can do anything.

So next week we will go back to swimming lessons and try again. I will be going with a different mind set though. I believe in my child and know that she can swim. My job next week is to let her find that out on her own.

If you don't laugh, you'll cry.

Moving day

So tomorrow is day 1 of our pack out. For my non-military friends that is when the military send a moving company and they pack you up and move you out, hence the name. We are moving in shifts this time. Tomorrow is called unaccompanied baggage. Since we are moving across an ocean we are allowed to send supplies before us so we have dishes and bedding while we wait the 8 weeks it takes to get the rest of our furniture. Only for us, its not 8 weeks but 6 months before we will see our household goods again. We decided that unpacking an entire house for a 6 month tour and then packing it again would drive me to drink. ( more than I do now anyway) I have spent the last couple of weeks deciding what we could live without and what was a necessity.

I have learned a couple of things since I started. First, my kids are pretty resilient. They have sorted toys, books and clothes and planned for an exciting trip and a new adventure. Second, we have a whole lot of crap. I thought I was pretty good at keeping the clutter down and not being a pack rat, I was wrong. I have taken out 7 bags of trash and my back porch is covered with things that are going to the ladies garage sale. When did that happen? Where did this desire to store build? Third, I am not a nice person when you make me deal with change. During this move I have been picking fights with my husband, not sleeping, tearful. I used to think that I handled anything life threw at me with a good attitude, that I would handle it with grace and understanding. I can hear you laughing by the way. I have had to apologize to my husband more than once about my attitude and been humbled on a daily basis that my kids have handled this in a more adult manner than I have.

I now need to laugh at myself, to remember that I can choose my attitude, that I am only as moody as i choose to be. I need to love on my husband and kids and enjoy my time here before its gone. So lets choose laughter and live aloha

today i feel, you know it doesn't matter...

it's true. It really doesn't. What matters is what I choose to do with it. I feel sad, frustrated, angry, agitated, wound-up. I feel misunderstood, un-grateful, torn, heart broken. I have chosen to be mean, bitter, ugly. I have chosen to yell at my children, sneer at my husband, ignore my friends phone calls all to indulge my own self pity. Yes my feeling are valid, yes there is nothing wrong with having them, there is however something very wrong about what I do with them. My feelings do not give me license to treat the people that love me with anything less then all the love and grace they have shown me. And the grace and love my Savior has given me defiantly means that I have no room to whine and moan.

So I choose to once again remember the words of a women who loved me no matter what. I will choose laughter.

you know your a mom when...

you no longer dream of hours in a bath with a book, just 10 minutes in the shower without an audience

your version of swear words are stinky bunny, for crying out loud, and funky monkey

you calmly count to 10 when your hubby walks in, steps over the trash bag, past the folded laundry, pats the kids on the head as they do their homework, and asks why dinner isnt ready

your daughter watches you dress and wants to know why you are allowed to draw lines on your tummy but she got sent to her room for drawing a smiley face on hers

your day of rest includes making breakfast, lunch, and dinner for 5, breaking up 3 fights, 4 loads of laundry, 18 tattle telling incidents, 1 spilled milk glass ( that was supposed to not tip), and 3 showers of sticky little bodies

the difference between boys and girls

K is a tomboy. She likes tools, blocks, climbing trees, and wears dresses on Sundays when her mother threatens her life. Now because K understands that she is not like other girls every so often she tells me she wishes she were a boy. I carefully explain that God made her special and that she is exactly who God made her to be and that stops the questions for a little while.

Last Sunday we are on our way home from church and K is in the back seat and all of the sudden tells me that she is a boy. "No your not, your a girl" says A snottily and the argument continues Looney Tunes style of, no I'm not, Yes you are and on and on they go. I interrupt thinking that this is a good time to explain the difference in boys and girls. I talk about how J is a boy because he has a penis and K and A are girls because they have vagina and then ask if they understand. Both girls look at me and nod their little heads and I am quietly patting myself on the back when I hear K's little voice saying "I wish I had a penis"

If you don't laugh you'll cry

School Days

Well school has begun here in Hawaii and we are three weeks into the new year. K and A were so excited to start and new year. K is thrilled that as a first grader she can walk to class all by herself. A is thrilled to finally be in school with K cause that means she is as big as her sister. ( a story for another day).

The girls have only been in school for 3 weeks now and I am not sure their teachers will make it the whole year. K had a good first day and came home excited about her new class and loving her math lessons. I met with her teacher and we talked about how K was doing and what i needed to help her with and then thought everything was good. Silly mama. We had parent orientation last week and her teacher pulls me aside with this apologetic look and shows me K's journal. Its empty. Every morning the kids are supposed to come into class, hang up their bags and put their homework in the basket, then sit down and write in their journals. The teacher doesn't check these all the time and the kids are being trusted to finish a page and then turn it in. Only problem is K has been lying to her teacher and telling her she had finished. Oh man, seriously couldn't this have waited until junior high. I dont know which was worse, that K was lying about her schoolwork, or my embarrassment at being the parent of the first grader lying about her schoolwork.

If you don't laugh you'll cry

An apology to my parents

Dear Mom and Dad,

I am sorry. I am sorry for all the times i rolled my eyes at you, stomped my foot, yelled, or ignored your request. I am sorry for the clothes on the floor, the toothpaste all over the counter, the water splashing everywhere except the tub. I am sorry for the notes home from my teachers, the snotty comments that got me written up, and making my teacher cry. I am sorry for teasing my sister just to entertain myself, knocking down my brothers just to make them cry, and waking everyone up at 4am just to have someone to play with.

Now will you please lift the curse of "just wait till you have children of your own". I would really appreciate it.

Love,

your daughter