Our big mistake (and how we survived)

Somehow Trey talked me into going out to eat tonight... with the kids. We had a Chili's gift card and a coupon for a free dessert, and I was feeling pretty burned out on cooking anyway, so it really didn't take much convincing. 

Never again.

We've always avoided dinner out with the kids, but I reasoned with myself that it would be fine--Perrin's old enough now to know how to behave, and Brielle's young enough that she hasn't hit the terrible twos. Perfect, right?

The restaurant was PACKED. Thankfully, we got seated quickly and I began digging through the diaper bag to pull out the dinner I'd packed for Bri. Only... it wasn't there. No peanut butter sandwich anywhere to be found. I remembered sticking it in the bag before we left the house. Where was it?? After I dug through the bag several times and sent Trey out to the car to look for it, Perrin found it on the floor. Apparently in the shuffle to get seated, half the diaper bag had dumped out. 

Oh, well. Time to order. I busied Brielle with some crayons (which she tried to eat) while attempting to convince Perrin to order something other than macaroni and cheese. (C'mon... if I'm gonna spend $5 on a kid's meal, it ought to be a tiny bit more awesome than macaroni and cheese.) We finally settled on chicken strips and cinnamon apples. (Believe me, this is pertinent to the story. In case you're wondering.)

Brielle threw all the napkins on the floor. ("More napkins, please.") Then she threw all the crayons, the menu, her fork, her fruit cup. A rather sizable pile of crap had accumulated under our table.

Food finally arrived! Perrin decided he liked the chicken strips and ate three within about 20 seconds. I told him he should try the apples too. He said he didn't like them. I told him to try just one. He said it would make him gag. I insisted. So he ate an apple and threw up all over himself and the table. Literally. Vomit everywhere. ("More napkins, please.")

Trey took Perrin to the bathroom to get him cleaned up. He came back and told me his tummy wanted cookies. Too bad, tummy. I was finally getting ready to eat my own food when Brielle's face went red and she started grunting. Sigh. I knew what that meant. I hauled her off to the bathroom to change her diaper and realized when we got there that she had lost a shoe at some point. I changed her and then needed to wash my hands, so she toddled around the bathroom with one shoe on while I lathered up. I scooped her up and we hunted around the restaurant. No shoe. We hunted around the table. No shoe. Finally we spotted it wedged between her booster seat and the booth seat. While I was getting readjusted, Brielle grabbed Perrin's cup of cinnamon apples and dug her hands in, then began smearing the apples across her face and the table. While I dug out the wipes from the diaper bag, she grabbed my shirt with her slimy fingers and wiped apple bits from my shoulder to my elbow. ("More napkins, please.")

I asked for a to go box. Trey ordered the free dessert (still trying to salvage what had thus far been a trip to hell). Did I mention the restaurant was packed? Our server was trying his hardest running from table to table, but he just couldn't keep up. We waited about 15 minutes for our dessert, then another 15 minutes for a check. Maybe that doesn't sound like much, but it was possibly the longest 30 minutes of my life. 
 
Finally it was time to get the heck out of there. I picked up Brielle's mess from under the table and took her out of her chair to put her coat on. I set her down and turned around to grab my purse, diaper bag, and coat. I turned back around and Brielle was gone. She was speeding as fast as her little legs could carry her down the aisle and around the corner. I chased after her, but there were people everywhere (did I mention the restaurant was packed?) I dodged a server with a tray and nearly bumped into an old man. Brielle navigated the crowds with ease and was making herself at home with a booth of strangers when I finally caught up to her. 

I was pretty quiet on the way home. Trey tried to cheer me up. "Look at the bright side--it couldn't possibly have been any worse than that." Um, that's the bright side? "And we survived!" he said. I think he was just praying I wouldn't kill him for having the most boneheaded idea in the universe. 

But yes, we survived. And we learned an important lesson. I think it's safe to say that we won't be taking our kids out to eat again until they're 40.

Christmas fun 2013

I'm really enjoying the Christmas season this year. It's been much better than last year. Not that I didn't enjoy last year, but Brielle was a newborn and I was so sleep deprived that I barely even remember it. That zombie walking around on Christmas morning covered in spit-up and unable to remember what she'd bought for anybody, getting on Google to see if it was possible to die from lack of sleep? That was me. 

I'm much more alive and mentally stable this year. And I have loved, loved, loved doing fun Christmas activities as a family--decorating Christmas cookies, making home-made hot chocolate, snuggling on the couch to watch Christmas movies, driving around to see the lights, playing with our interactive nativity set... I wish my zombie self from last year could see it and be encouraged. (Although my zombie self would be more likely to throw a toaster at me than be encouraged.)

Over the weekend, we went to our church's Christmas party and got to see Perrin play the part of a shepherd in the program. I was a little worried--we had practiced singing "Away in a Manger" earlier that day in preparation for him singing it on stage with the other kids, and he kept strategically adding the word "booty" to convenient pauses in the song. (Kids seem to have a sixth sense when it comes to mortifying their parents.) It turns out I didn't really need to worry--he didn't end up singing at all when the time came. He just stomped his feet as loudly as possible while the other kids sang. Oh well... could have been worse. 

Isn't he a cute little shepherd? Thank goodness no one gave him a shepherd's staff.

 

A letter to Brielle

My dear baby girl,

I can't believe you're a year old! (Yes, I'm a few weeks late in writing this letter. You and your brother keep me very busy.) It's so bittersweet to see you transitioning from an infant to a toddler. It's hard for me to even use the word toddler to describe you because it just feels too grown up! But you really are growing up--into a lively, funny, smiley, cuddly, beautiful, intelligent little girl. This past year has definitely delivered some tough moments and sleepless nights, but we've also had the joy of celebrating your many firsts--first smiles, first laughs, first words (including your favorite word, duck!), and most recently, first steps.

We love watching your personality blossom. You're curious about everything (including the bathroom trash can, which you insist on dumping out whenever possible). You love to read books and point at the pictures (you enthusiastically classify every animal as a dog or a duck). No one in the world gets as much joy out of taking off their socks as you do, and I love the cheesy grin you give me when you hold them up in triumph.

I love watching you and Perrin interact. I know he makes you mad sometimes when he steals your toys or plays too rough. But he's your very first friend, and he'll most likely be your friend for longer than anyone else in the world. I hope you'll always be as quick to forgive him as you are right now.

My sweet girl, I have so many hopes and dreams for you. But just know that nothing could bring me more joy than to see you growing up to love Jesus with your whole heart. You may go through some rough spots of doubt and confusion, just as I did. And I'll tell you the story of how faithful God was to me in spite of it all. I'm confident He'll pull you through to the other side too, no matter what you're facing. And don't forget that you have two loving parents who are praying for you and loving you every single day.

I love you, baby (toddler) girl! One year down, and hopefully many, many more that we get to spend together and celebrate your beautiful life! I'm so thankful to have you as my daughter!

Pets / Pests

A little boy in Perrin's class at Mother's Day Out brought his hamster for show and tell a few weeks ago. Perrin is STILL talking about that hamster three weeks later. He's been begging me to get him one. I've told him no several times. Sorry, kid... I know exactly who would end up cleaning hamster poop every week and frantically searching the house for Fuzzy when you "accidentally" let him loose. For about half a second, I vaguely wondered if I should get him something really small and simple to care for, like a fish, to teach him about animals and responsibility. Then the saner version of my brain remembered that he is only three. He's more likely to take the fish on a wagon ride than to learn proper animal care.

So after fruitlessly trying to convince me that he needs a pet of his own, he finally decided to take matters into his own hands. He caught a moth, stuck it in a jar, and named it Uncle. (Don't ask me... I thought it was weird too). Then he decided the moth needed some food, so he plunked a piece of dog food in there with it (and was visibly disappointed when the moth didn't gobble it down. Ungrateful moth.) We kept Uncle for a couple of days, and he seemed miraculously healthy. But I was trying to think of a way to get Perrin on board with setting Uncle free in the backyard because I knew he wouldn't last much longer in the jar.

I went in Perrin's room yesterday and found the jar sitting on his train table, empty. "Perrin, where's Uncle?" I asked. "

Oh, I squished him," he said, very matter-of-fact.

Rest in peace, Uncle. I'm sorry you had to endure the trauma of being the first pet of a very unsympathetic three-year-old.
 

Two kids and a wedding

Yesterday we had the joy of attending a very beautiful and meaningful wedding. We brought the kids along for this one and had been feeling pretty apprehensive all week about what it would be like to bring a three-year-old and an almost one-year-old to a wedding. I wasn't really too worried about Brielle--she's generally content as long as I don't dare to leave her (EVER. With ANYONE. Not even for a millisecond. Need to pee? Too bad.) But Perrin has a tendency to pick very inconvenient times to act a teensy bit... oh, how to describe it?... demon-possessed. Plus the wedding was at 1:00, which is prime nap time for both kids. So I couldn't help but feel that we were setting ourselves up for failure. But what do you do when practically everyone you know will be at the wedding, leaving no one for babysitting? You prepare the best you can and pray for God to have mercy.

So I packed my purse that morning. I had to remove unimportant junk like the check book and car keys to make room for essentials: an iPad, cheerios, three rubber ducks, Easter eggs, a teething ring, fruit snacks, sippy cups, a train, a truck, and a partridge in a pear tree. 

We got there in plenty of time to pick a spot that would allow us to make a quick getaway if needed. Perrin informed me he needed to go to the bathroom, so I went in search of the restrooms while Trey claimed our seats. Perrin wanted to go into the stall alone, so I waited outside the door for him. He was taking a really long time, so I peeked under the door and saw that he had unrolled two entire rolls of toilet paper onto the floor. The toilet paper was sitting in a giant heap. I groaned, demanded that he unlock the door, and began cleaning up the mess. See if I let him go to the bathroom alone ever again.

We FINALLY made it out of the bathroom just in time for the wedding to start. Perrin found his cousin Brandon and the two boys sat with my parents and started quietly playing games on the iPad, which pretty much kept them occupied for the entire wedding. (Thank you, technology. I don't know what I would do without you.) So that  just left us with Brielle to keep occupied and quiet.

She dug through my purse and played with the toys some. Then she lunged forward and began pulling the arm hair of the stranger sitting in front of me (who did not seem terribly amused. Sorry, sir.) The pastor officiating the wedding began telling the story of the couple and how it all started back in 1990 when they were born, only a day apart from each other but 2000 miles away. Brielle chose that moment to contribute a hearty "Yeah!" The few people around us chuckled. (Side note: We are attending weddings of people born in the 90s. I officially feel old).

We made it through the ceremony and into the reception without further incidences. I could tell Perrin was getting a little restless, so I got him some grapes and a small slice of wedding cake. He devoured the cake and pretty quickly realized that there was more yummy food nearby. The good thing about having lots of friends and family around is that everyone kind of helps watch the kids and keep them in line. The bad thing is that everyone assumes that someone else is watching the kids. At one point I was holding Bri and Trey and I were chatting with some friends when I suddenly realized Perrin wasn't sitting at the table anymore. I found him at the food table, snatching baklava and chocolate peanut clusters and shoving them in his cheeks like a guilty squirrel. After we cleaned him up and stopped by the bride and groom to say a quick congratulations, we decided it was time to get the kids home. We were probably about ten minutes too late in our estimate of how long they could last--Perrin came completely unglued on our way out to the car. The excitement, sugar, and lack of sleep had caught up to him at last. He and Brielle both took good naps that afternoon.

So what did I learn from all of this? 1. If you take kids to a wedding, come very prepared. Just dump the toy box into your purse and it'll all be good. 2. When a three-year-old wants to be independent and go to the bathroom all by himself, just say no. Remember that slogan from our elementary school drug education days? It's good for toddlers too. Just say no. 3. If the desserts on the food table seem to be disappearing rather quickly, there's a good chance that there's a sneaky little boy somewhere nearby who needs his mommy to pay closer attention. But cut her some slack--her baby girl has probably dipped her hand into her brother's leftover wedding cake and is smearing it into her hair at that exact moment. True story.

Yogurt, toilet paper, and broken stuff

Today was one of those days that makes me feel really jealous that Trey gets to leave the house for 8 hours every Monday through Friday. Most of the time I'm incredibly grateful that I get to be home with the kids. And most of the time I really enjoy it.

And then there are days like today. Perrin started the morning by painting himself with yogurt. When I insisted that he take a bath, he threw a temper tantrum that lasted nearly an hour (no kidding. An HOUR. Of screaming. My eye is twitching just thinking about it.)

Once he was clean and the sniffles finally subsided, he spilled milk all over my carpet--no biggie, it happens--but then at some point while I was distracted, he managed to glue a piece of paper to our dining room table. Then he flushed an entire roll of toilet paper down the toilet. I managed to fish some of it out with the toilet plunger before it all disappeared down the hole, but the toilet was definitely making some gurgly noises this afternoon. Then Perrin found my Kindle and promptly destroyed my expensive leather cover with built-in light by breaking off the metal contacts (this is actually the second time he's broken one of these... you'd think I'd find a way to keep it away from him, but honestly, this kid is so resourceful that nothing is truly out of reach).

By the time Trey came home, I was seething. "Take. Your. Son. NOW." Trey, being an intelligent and observant man, could tell that I was a teensy bit upset. He let me lock myself in our bedroom for 30 minutes while he and the boy had a little chat and my blood pressure returned to somewhat normal.

Perrin came up to me later with his sweetest little voice and said, "Sorry Mama. You forgive me?" The truth is, I was still angry. I was exhausted. And I had a choice about how I was going to respond--I could do what I felt like doing and lock myself away for the rest of the night. Or I could do what I knew I needed to do, and what I knew Perrin needed me to do, and give him a hug and tell him I love him no matter what. I chose the latter.

I tucked Perrin into bed a few minutes ago. Perrin looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes and said, "I want to pick dandelions tomorrow and bring them to you." My heart melted. What an angel.

The big 3-0

Trey turned 30 over the weekend, so in honor of this landmark birthday we dropped the kids off with my parents early Friday morning and spent Friday and Saturday in Branson. We shopped and had lunch at the promenade, nearly drowned each other in the lazy river at an indoor water park (we were definitely not acting our age), saw a magic show, and rode a few roller coasters at Silver Dollar City. Every time we sat down to eat, we just marveled at how nice it was to actually get to EAT and not refill sippy cups or mash up more banana or clean up spills or convince Perrin that spaghetti is not a finger food. It was our first night child-free since before Brielle was born. (And what did we talk about the entire time? Yep--the kids.)

Even with all the fun and celebration, Trey was feeling a little bummed about turning 30. But I get the feeling the 30s might be some of the best years of our life. We're in a good place--we own a home, we have two terrific kids, we both have good jobs that we enjoy (and that allow me to be home with the kids). God has surrounded us with supportive family and friends and a church where we truly feel at home. We have everything we need and a whole lot more.

This is so dorky, but I keep thinking of a phrase from the movie 13 Going on 30 (which, dorky or not, is a really good movie in my opinion): "Thirty, flirty, and thriving." C'mon Trey, let's be thirty, flirty, and thriving!

Or how about something a little more spiritual: "Wisdom is with the aged, and understanding in length of days" (Job 12:12). See, we're getting wiser! Actually, I don't feel nearly as smart as I thought I was back in high school. Hmm... maybe that's a sign of wisdom after all.

One more: "Even to your old age I am he, and to gray hairs I will carry you. I have made, and I will bear; I will carry and will save" (Isaiah 46:4). Trey, you can just insert "bald head" in place of "gray hairs" and you'll get the gist. :)

Kidding! ...sort of.