…followed by a tougher day

I knew it wasn’t going to be an awesome day the second I picked up my cell phone to disable my (second) alarm.

My Life Saver of a mother-in-law watches the kids for us on Mondays so that I can start the week building my new business without simultaneously worrying about molding minds or preserving the safety of two toddlers.

But today, my mother-in-law was sick. A few frantic texts later, and I had secured the help of “Auntie Brady” to hang with the kids for the important phone meeting I had on the books this morning.

No big deal, crisis averted, and on to the next hurdle. I decided to take the kids out for a coffee date and kill two birds with one stone: my morning coffee fix + kids’ breakfast in one fell swoop, all while feeling very treat-like and starting the day on a fun note!

Except.

Maddox didn’t want to wear the shirt I picked out for her, unless of course I allowed her to wear it as pants, which wasn’t really ever an option. When I forced her into the shirt like a normal almost-2-year-old (you know, arms through the arm-holes instead of both feet through the head hole), she began to throw a monster, only-a-red-head-is-capable-of-this-fury fit. She stormed from one end of the hallway to the other, red-faced and screaming, as I tried to coax and cajole her into shoes/out the door/into the car.

Eventually, a snack pack of Marshmallow Mateys (poor man’s Lucky Charms) normalized my youngest enough to get both kids out the door for our Fun Treat.

The trip to Starbucks was uneventful enough, until it came time to depart.

Anson, like a true gentleman, held the door for Maddox and I as we walked out to the car. My hands were full with all the kids’ treats + my purse + the car keys + my own drink, and Maddox took the opportunity to dart down the sidewalk toward my car, then juke right into the parking lot.

Maddox doesn’t stop when I call for her to wait. Because, she’s Maddox.

Anson’s gentlemanly gesture became an instant tripping hazard when I attempted to sprint after Maddox, who was now fearlessly about to saunter into oncoming parking lot traffic. I may or may not have gently shoved Anson out of my way before quickly unloading my armfuls of burdensome treats on the hood of my car and snatching Maddox into my arms right before she made it into the line of fire. A split second after I picked up Maddox, I felt a cold splash as my iced coffee fell off the hood of my car and exploded all over the back of me.

Maddox burst into tears, perhaps at being “rescued” or perhaps at the devastation behind me. “Coffee fall!” she moaned as she reached towards the upended and now lidless cup of liquid ambition spreading in a sad puddle across the asphalt. Anson had obediently “Waited Patiently For Mama On The Sidewalk” while all of this drama unfolded, and I wordlessly thank the dear sweet Lord for one child who actually follows instructions as I look Maddox in the face and explain why she cannot ever ever EVEREVEREVEREVER run into the parking lot without holding a hand.

It wasn’t until lunchtime that I had a chance to brew a pot of coffee at home. I slammed it down lukewarm, paired with my kids’ half-eaten grilled cheese sandwiches and gnawed-on apple slices, as I attempted to bang out the 4 hour project I’d blocked the afternoon out for in the 2-ish hours I could reasonably forecast for naptime.

Some days, you feel like the motherflippin’ Mom of the Century. And then there are days like today.

You can almost guarantee that the minute you think you’ve got it on LOCK, you’ll have a setback day to remind you that parenting is a journey and you’ve never arrived.

And you know what? I wouldn’t trade today for my BEST day pre-kids.

Because at naptime, Maddox grabbed my face with her two sweet, chubby hands, gave me a smooch, and held my cheek to her own while I sang “Maddox in the family.”

Because after naptime, Anson and I played several spirited games of “MATCH” and I realized he has a pretty impressive memory for a four-year-old.

Because before bedtime, we made cookie bars and read a new story and laughed our little tushies off trying not to blink during a staring contest.

These moments outshine the less-than-productive “work days” and the coffee-stained pants. I’ll crawl into bed tonight, bleary-eyed from too much computer time before bed and back sore from too much sitting cross-legged on the floor with the kids, and all I’ll think of before drifting off is the delicious sound of those two laughing.

That is, if the afternoon pot of coffee doesn’t screw me over.

A really great day

Kids slept in past=6

We all actually ate breakfast.

Outside play, check. Laundry done, check. CAR WASHED, check! Solid naps, check!

Number of meltdowns=0

Number of time outs=0

Finished holes of golf=9

My final score=54

Number of strokes better than my last official score on 9 holes=5

My score on 7 (a murderous par 5) = 5

Dinner on the table before we usually start baths? CHECK.

We had such a great day that I couldn’t help but comment on it, over dinner, during bath time, and at tuck in time.

“Anson, I was so proud of you today! You did a great job of trying your best on the golf course, you had a good attitude, you played nice with your sister… you’re growing up to be such a fun kid!”

Anson reveled in the compliment and responded, “I think I want to only have days like today.”

Me too, little bear.

 

The spirit of baseball

Today, after over a month of missed connections, I finally picked up Anson’s teeball pictures.

Have you ever seen anything so wonderful?

When Anson saw them, he exclaimed, “Mom, do you know what this picture says?”

I was pretty confident Anson would recite his name, team name, maybe his jersey number. I was wrong.

“It says I’m the spirit of baseball.”

I couldn’t even handle it. That confidence. That enthusiasm. That love of the game.

Also, just… where would he have even heard that phrase? Did he literally just make it up?

So many wonderful mom-thoughts ran through my head at this simple yet profound proclamation from my son.

What I keep coming back to is that enthusiasm. What do I feel that much joy about? What would I categorically define myself as the spirit of?

In the afternoon, Anson wanted to play baseball. He played off his tee in the backyard for quite some time before enlisting Daddy to pitch for him in the front yard. What commenced then was a good 30 minutes or so of Anson, quote, “rippin’ shots” all over the neighborhood.

Childhood obsessions and early adolescent passions and teenage hobbies rarely turn into our vocations. But tonight, while we were getting Anson ready for bed, Anson told Zeb that he wanted to be a baseball player when he grew up (a departure from his previous goal to be a pilot).

I have to assume this is a pinnacle of Zeb’s parenting experience so far. 

Having a child can often provide a poignant reminder to us of what possibilities are. And it’s sad to me that I even wrote that. Aren’t there still inestimable possibilities in adulthood? Can’t I still choose that I want to be the spirit of this, that, the other; a project, a movement, a new job

Maybe possibilities isn’t the word I wanted to use there. Perhaps it was enthusiasm instead. Whether it be forging new friendships or forging new career paths, when done enthusiastically, win or lose, the journey is more fulfilling.

Who is in charge of your attitude?

We have been working with Anson on his attitude.

It isn’t that he is particularly snotty, rude, or sullen. He’s a genuinely pleasant little man, 99% of the time. But he has a tendency to melt down very quickly at the first sign he might not win, or when he’s not good at something immediately, or when he’s hangry.

*I mean, who doesn’t melt down quickly when they’re hangry?*

He also can go whiny very fast. Like, 0-WHINY in 1 second.

I want Anson to have a strong will, to have more good days than bad, and not to rely on what happens to him or how others treat him to dictate how he feels about himself or his day. And he’s beginning to show signs that this kind of teaching might actually be something he can retain. And also, we’re kind of fed up with the whining and the fit-throwing and the immediate slump when he gets beaten in a footrace.

Today was family Friday, and we managed to squeeze in lots of great active outdoors time, including a bike ride around our neighborhood on the new asphalt and a trip to the Country Club to play tennis. But a prolonged visit to the Home Depot right before lunch (and therefore, right before naps) resulted in a parking lot fit-throw and the revoking of Anson’s Chip Privileges.

The drive home was less than pleasant.

Daddy was frustrated, both by the Home Depot not stocking essential items for our current project and Anson’s refusal to quit whining in the backseat about how bad of a day he was having.

“Would you rather cheer up and get your chip privileges back, or whiny and cry and have a bad time?” Zeb asked Anson in exasperation.

Anson dug his heels in, and by that I mean he stuck his lower lip out even further and scrunched his face up as he moaned, “I guess I’m just not having a very good day.”

When the moaning subsided enough for my voice to be heard, I turned around and asked Anson to look at me. I said, “Buddy, there is only one person in control of your attitude. Do you know who that is?”

Anson pouted and shook his head.

“It’s you, buddy. You decide to have a good attitude, and you decide to have a bad attitude.”

There was some argument from the four-year-old’s perspective, but I held firm. We don’t control what happens to us, and we can’t really control how other people treat us or speak to us. We can control how we choose to react to these circumstances. Even when we’re four-years-old.

Tonight at bedtime, before songs and back scratches but after Maddox had already been tucked in and smooched goodnight, I had another little talk with Anson. It was a rough day today – lots of pushing limits, demanding instead of asking politely, deliberately taking things from Maddox and starting fights – and I wanted to make sure that we went to bed on a good note, even though it wasn’t a totally awesome day.

“Buddy,” I asked him, “who is in control of your attitude?”

“Me.”

“That’s right, buddy. And if you are the one who can control whether you have a good attitude or a bad attitude, and good attitudes usually mean you have really good days and bad attitudes usually mean you have rough days, what would you choose?”

“I’d choose good days. I’d have a good attitude. Then every day can be a good day.”

I mean, I don’t want to get my hopes up, but I felt like this was major progress.

Of course, we’ll see how tomorrow goes.

Having four kids

Yesterday’s anniversary tribute to my husband on Instagram accidentally spilled the beans that I’m pregnant.

With each pregnancy, we’ve had elaborate reveals on social media. This time around, I must have felt more secretive. And as my friend Holly put it, if there isn’t an elaborate reveal on social media, is it really even happening?

Yea, Mama got a little carried away with the numbers and let it slip. I received a few “double take” comments and a few texts from closer friends that I neglected to inform. As I round the corner into the last weeks of the 2nd trimester, if you aren’t seeing me in person to notice the significant rotundness that is Bebe Bptzsch, then I guess you aren’t getting the memo until you see me with a fresh baby come Thanksgiving.

Come November, I’ll have endured four full term pregnancies. It’s the end of an era for us and the beginning of another, and it’s exciting and scary all at the same time.

For Anson, it’s the opportunity to fully comprehend what’s happening to our family. While there have been some moments of real disorientation and confusion (like our ultrasound, or when Anson asked if I would be bringing the baby home after a doctor’s appointment at the 16 week mark), for the most part this is familiar territory for Anson. In a few weeks, he’ll get to come to the hospital and meet a new human. And then, he’ll have to show this one the ropes just like he did with Maddox.

Being a big brother is a big responsibility.

For Maddox, this is alllllll new. She’s been quick to point out to me that “I Baby.” When we ask her where the baby in mommy’s tummy is, she points to her own. I think maybe last weekend’s adventure to Eugene to meet “Baby Coya” (Maddox’s soft Rs doing her no favors on her cousins’ names) was the first she really even has been around tiny babies.

Being a big sister is going to be a crazy adjustment for Maddox.

And as parents, we’re about to be officially outnumbered. So, that’s probably going to be weird, too.

With our first two pregnancies, I counted down every single week and milestone. I captured a weekly bump pic religiously. I obsessed over baby stuff. With Hudson, I was more impatient with pregnancy, viewing it as a necessary evil on the path to whatever Being A Mom was going to be. That pregnancy took forever. With Anson, I counted down every moment and milestone as precious and sacred, because I carried the weight of what we lost, and because now I desperately wanted to Be A Mom. That pregnancy also took forever.

And then, Maddox came along. And there was still quite a bit of anticipation and desperation, because I knew that I was just going to keep having babies until we had another girl. But I also had a two-year-old to keep up with, and to prepare for the impending Life Change that would be Being a Big Brother. I wasn’t so self-centered, I suppose. My priorities were elsewhere. That pregnancy went by a bit faster.

This pregnancy has flown by. With two humans to chase, and significant life changes that have nothing to do with procreation all happening in the past 5 months or so, Bebe Bptzsch is – I don’t want to say an afterthought – let’s say this baby is less of an all-consuming affair. I’m more concerned with how this baby is going to impact his or her siblings’ lives than I am about how it’s going to impact me or Zeb.

Sure, it’s familiar territory. We already have a boy and a girl, so no big firsts in that department to look forward to with eager anticipation. I’m not as eager for things like dressing a newborn, or seeing what they look like, or getting to lose the baby weight and drink rosé again (okay, that last one is pretty important to me).

What I’m the most excited about with the arrival of this last sweet baby is seeing how he or she will complete our family. This baby will either give Maddox a sister, or Anson a brother. This baby will be our youngest, and will make Maddox the middle child. This baby will mark the transition from “family planning” to “family building.” This baby will be another unique mix of me and of Zeb, and of his or her siblings as well.

The antics will most certainly be entertaining, and the tiny clothes and baby milestones will all be special. But the questions I find myself obsessing over the most as we add the 4th baby to our mix aren’t “Is it a Boy?” or “Is it a Girl?” but “What kind of a human will you be?” and “What kind of person will you help us all become?”

 

 

Anniversary

Today is our 9th anniversary. We celebrated with a golf and dinner date.

When I picked Anson up from school he asked about dinner plans and I informed him that I wasn’t sure what he would be doing for dinner, since Grandma Scone would be watching them so daddy and I could go on a date.

“But you and Daddy are the best!” Anson complained (at first).

We kind of are. I mean, not to say we are the best as in better than everybody else. But we are the best for each other and for our family. We choose to see the best in one another, and as a by product we end up being our best selves for one another. We are a great team in this parenting journey and we are great coaches and mentors for each other in navigating the not-parenting stuff.

Being a family is the best. Being Anson and Maddox’s mommy and daddy is the best.

Who has got it better than us?

Anson knows how to win over the ladies

Today, I did something kind of fancy to baby sister’s hair.

Double pony tails + purple flower clips she picked out herself.

This is big time for me, and I was pretty proud of myself.

Anson, quick to pick up on the mood at the kitchen table as I snapped 40 pictures of Maddox’s ‘do to capture every angle, proclaimed:

“Maddox, you look beautiful! You’re the prettiest girl in the whole world.”

I think she appreciated the compliment.

Learning to go to sleep on his own

Tonight at bedtime, I told Anson how much I appreciated him staying in his own bedroom the night before. He responded by saying, “Yea but I need you guys to sleep with me.”

*sigh*

“No, buddy, you need to learn to go to sleep on your own.”

“Well, I already know how to do that.”

Implied: I just don’t want to.

Dry run on babies

Anson and Maddox got to meet their newest cousin, Cora, this weekend.

She’s sweet and tiny and perfectly lovely, mellow and bright eyed. Maddox was very smitten with her.

Anson was more interested in making up for lost time with his older cousin, Clara, than he was in oogling a brand new human.

But when we introduced him to her, he slowed down and took a deep, happy breath and exclaimed, “She’s sooooo tiny and cute!”

Maddox’s equivalent was “Ooooooo baby,” and she would scrunch up her face as if she was looking at the smallest most fragile little being in all the world. “Touch?”

No, Maddox, you can’t touch the 6 lb. baby.

“Love!” she said, leaning her cheek towards the baby basket. “Love!”

Ohhhh my heart. She did eventually gain permission to gently touch Cora’s feet, a privilege met with great excitement. “Oh, Toes!” she would squeal in delight, pulling her hands back every time Cora would respond at all to her touch.

Maddox did give the baby a wide berth throughout the weekend, but every time she walked past her little bassinet she would stop and put her hands on her knees and crouch down and saw with her face scrunched up in doting admiration, “Ooooooo baby.”

I found it very encouraging. Maddox will be fresh off her second birthday when this baby arrives, while Anson had already turned two by the time we got pregnant with her. Anson is excited about the baby thing, and understands it, and has been through this now so it’s kind of old hat to him. But Maddox sharing the limelight and affection? Maddox knowing to be gentle and to listen and obey? A bit of new territory for her. I was holding Cora several times throughout the weekend, and unlike earlier encounters with small humans, Maddox didn’t try to “HOLD ‘EE!” when she noticed I was paying attention to a baby. This time, she just wanted to get a glimpse and maybe tickle a toe.

All in all, I’d say it was a pretty successful dry run.

Swear words

Yesterday: Anson’s aunt used the phrase “what the heck?” Anson wasn’t even a part of the conversation but stopped what he was doing to correct her.

“My mommy doesn’t like that word.”

Today during a water balloon fight, Anson was overheard by Papa Fish not once but several times exclaiming “what the hell?!”

So… might need to catch him in the act of that pretty quick here so I can prevent a scene at daycare.