Alex has, in the last two days, told me he has to pee about 3 times.  One of those times he was already wet, but maybe, just maybe we are turning another corner in the wonderful world of PT.  At least I hope so.

I am not a fan of TruGreen lawn service.  Just sayin’.

Tonight I was going to make a roast.  Then I realized I didn’t have a roast in the freezer after all.  So we had Italian.  It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.

My children love to come and show me their “shiny” clean teeth after brushing before bed.  They’re cute.

Yesterday, Megan was trying to find the sticker I had had on my shirt (I’d taken it off).  So I asked her, “Where’s the sticker, Meg?  Where did it go?”  She toddled all the way out through the kitchen, to the garage door and pointed up at the sticker charts for the twins’ PT rewards.  I did not coach her; I just followed where she went.  Apparently, she knows the word “sticker” already.  Yikes.

I had one of those days today where, in order to finish any of the jobs on my to-do list, I had to start 3 other projects, which now remain undone.  But I did get the applesauce Eric and I made yesterday into the freezer and some stains out of some clothes.  So that’s something, I guess.

Speaking of stains, there really isn’t a good substitute for OxyClean, I’ve found.  The Clorox version never worked as well as OxyClean did today.  Maybe it’s just my laundry, though.  Who knows…

Because the twins played for an hour instead of going to sleep, all three of my kids napped for the exact same 2 hours today.  It.was.lovely!

Both twins finished a PT reward chart today.  Eric took them to the store, bought marshmallows and chocolate bars, and made them s’mores on the kitchen table with his camp stove.  They loved it.  Alex licked his graham crackers clean and left them on the table.  I guess we know where his priorities lie…

I’ve worn makeup for 5 days in a row.  Can’t remember the last time that happened.  Maybe I’ll just keep putting it on and get back into the habit.  Maybe not.  Do you find it helpful/important to wear makeup and such, even on a day you know you won’t go anywhere?  I debate the issue to myself sometimes, so I’d love to hear your thoughts on it.

Anyway, I need to go to bed.  So off I go.  Happy Monday!

I think we are nearing the crest of the potty training mountain.  It’s definitely a relief.  

The twins are both much more comfortable with the whole thing.  It’s becoming almost normal for them.  We still do diapers at naps and bedtime, but it’s old hat to sit on the potty and go.  I’m grateful for (and super-proud of) the progress they’ve made since we started.  But despite all the promises that “It does get better” that people gave me, potty training has been one of the hardest endeavors I’ve ever had to manage.  

The worst moment was in July. 

A few weeks in and I was wearing out.  Potty training requires constant attention.  After getting used to their growing independence, I was suddenly back to functioning as I had when they were infants.  It was 2-on-1 again.  It was never-ending.  I had to be constantly aware of everything they did, every place they went, to whisk them to the potty to avoid an accident.  And I was tired.

Then, we went to the farm.  And it was awful.  My son acted like he’d never seen a potty, much less been on one, and I was beyond frustrated.  On the way back to my in-laws after church (where 2 accidents had happened in less than 30 minutes), I was venting my frustration to Eric.  

“I’m not angry about it,” I told him. “Just frustrated.”

“Well, it looks like you’re angry,” he replied.  

“That’s because I have to deal with this ALL.THE.TIME.” I shot back, nearly in tears.  He didn’t say much.

Thankfully the twins take long naps at the farm.  After dinner, I had time to think.  And I spent the afternoon feeling like a failure.  I suddenly realized that to 2-year-olds, frustration and anger look exactly alike.  Which would explain why Erin had suddenly been apologizing for everything.  They thought I was mad at them.  It broke my heart.  

How were we ever going to survive PT?

Obviously, I needed a different approach.  I needed a new perspective, and I needed it fast.  So I made sure I got my walk in the mornings, half an hour of time outside with no one to bother me.  I decided to go back to sticker charts and rewards because that had seemed to work at first.  And I started to pray about potty training.

I know, you’d think I would have done that one before.  Honestly, it just never occurred to me that God would care about PT.  But I cared.  And the Bible said, “Cast your cares on Him for He cares for you.”  So I did just that. 

And amazingly…perspective was exactly what I got.  Whether other people’s kids really potty-trained in 3 days or not, it was clear that mine were going to take longer.  A lot longer.  Months.  Maybe even most of a year before they were really trustworthy all the time, as a friend had learned with her kids.  

And that was the real problem.  It wasn’t the “failures” or the constant piles of poopy underpants to clean.  It wasn’t the potty training, at all.  It was me.  I’m a goal oriented person.  I am.  Other people take “joy in the journey,” but I get mine from accomplishing something.  And I’m great on short sprints.  I can handle activities where finishing is mostly dependent on me getting something done.

But PT isn’t like that.  It’s totally dependent on other people.  It’s a long-term process.  Reaching the “goal” is less an actual event than a gradual realization that they’ve been accident-free for ages and can tell you, dependably, when they need to go.  It does get better, just like everyone promised, but there’s a lot of back-and-forth, a lot of 2-step-forward-1-step-back kind of days before it does.  

What I needed was endurance.  So that’s what I prayed for.  Every day.  “Jesus, I don’t have the endurance for the marathon that is potty training.  I don’t have the patience to go the one or two steps that we will go today.  I want to be done.  But they are not ready.  They are trying.  They are doing great.  But I cannot rush them or we’ll regress.  So I need endurance.  And that I can only get from You.  Because that’s how you treat me.  Thank you for your never-ending patience with my constant failures.  Help me live that out to my children.  Amen.”

So…the potty training continues, and we are making it.  They’re doing really, really well, overall.  We still have our accidents, of course.  But Erin will tell me she has to go.  In fact, sometimes she goes on her own and tells me afterwards.  Alex is mostly willing, though he’s still a long way from telling me when he has to go.  But if I make sure he sits regularly, we can avoid most accidents.  So it’s okay.

And for now, we are surviving.  I am learning to have endurance.  I’m still working on the “joy” part of the journey, but thankfully, God’s been pretty patient with me.  And just like my twins and PT, we’ll eventually get there, God and me.  Just like He promised.  

Because His promises never fail.

I was going to blog today about the huge disappointment that was last night.  It would be my side of the story, complete with whining and complaining.  I was going to tell how the last 24 hours was supposed to be refreshing and rejuvenating, and instead ended up being even more exhausting and demanding than usual.  

I know…boo hoo.  Poor me.  Someone get the tissues. 

Still, that’s what I was going to write.  I was going to run down my litany of complaints.  And I was going to excuse it all with the title: “The Honest Truth”.  It didn’t matter if I painted unflattering portraits of my family or vented angrily about the “trials” of my life.  It wouldn’t even matter if it wasn’t “true” exactly, but it would be honest.  So it would be okay…right?

I thought so…until very quietly, the still small Voice whispered quietly, How about “The Ugly Truth” instead? 

And that stopped me cold.  The post I had planned wouldn’t just paint a picture of the unfortunate turn of events that transpired at my house last night.  Even more clearly, it would paint a picture of ME.  And what sort of me?  An Ugly me.

A sad and discouraged me, for sure.  But worse that that, an unloving and hard-hearted me.  My frustration.  My lack of grace in the face of unexpected change.  A heart that dealt with hurt by lashing out at others.  It wouldn’t be pretty.  Even if it was “honest.” 

So I didn’t write that post.  The circumstances were unfortunate.  My disappointment, very real.  But the events of last night cannot be changed by a sad and semi-peeved blog post.  So I’m choosing to let them go.

I’m still exhausted and overwhelmed.  I still don’t understand why the so-rare opportunity to get away for an evening had to evaporate before my very eyes 15 minutes before I was supposed to leave.  I still have some tears to cry.  I still can’t say that God is a better source of refreshment for me (though that is probably true, if I’d just spend more time with Him.)  And I still am not ready to have my kids up from naps this afternoon.

But the honest truth is that last night is done, and we will all survive.  In comparison to the trials of some good friends and loved ones, my “sufferings” are not very great at all.  And yet God will use even these little things to wash away my ugliness so that He can recreate me in His image.  Which is lovely, indeed.

So Megan turned 11 months old yesterday.  She’s walking all.the.time.  She takes 2-4 steps, touches her hands to the floor, stands back up, takes 2-4 more steps, and continues until she actually falls over.  Eric figures we have a week before she’s walking more than crawling.  Yikes!

She’s a super jolly lady.  Tickling her rib cage (or this one spot on her inner thigh) or bouncing with her will send her into peals of laughter.  And when she gets really laughing, her whole face lights up and her eyes crinkle up until they disappear.  It’s very cute, I must say.  

Of course, she’s still a determined little thing, and quite fearless.  She’s figured out how to open drawers (grrr!).  And she climbs anything in front of her.  I found her on hands and knees on the end table yesterday.  She’d climbed over the arm of the couch to get there.  She gets really frustrated when she can’t reach something she wants.  I’ve learned that certain grunts or howls mean I’ll find her stretching her little arms as far as they will go to get a hold of some toy.  She works so hard at it, I’m surprised she’s not getting taller by the day!

She does NOT like to be reprimanded, I’ve discovered.  She might be a backtalker when she’s older, if her early responses to correction give any indication.  But for the most part, she just happily plays with her toys, jabbers to herself or us, and generally follows the twins around trying to be just like them.  It’s hard to believe she’s so old already, but we definitely love having her happy little self around!

As for the twins, Erin tells me regularly how much she “loves her baby sis-tur” though that sentiment quickly disappears when Megan comes “too close” to her toys or coloring books. She spends vast amounts of time talking (to everyone or no one), singing and doing puzzles.  She leaves the “S” off the beginnings of words, which is super cute: star=’tar, spider=’pider, stop=’top.  You’d think I’d remember this, but it surprises me how often I have trouble translating those missing ‘S’-es!  On another note, yesterday I put some flashcards onto rings for them, and she’s been flipping through them pretty much continuously ever since.  We were going through them this morning (no one else was up yet), and she started putting me through MY paces with them: “Mommy, what color is this ‘tar?”  “Is it big or little?”  “What this shape?”  It was obviously exactly how I ask her those questions, and it made me laugh. She’s my very own Mini-Me for sure!

Alex is getting more verbal by the day.  Even people who aren’t around him all the time can figure out what he’s saying now.  The little girl at the mall play place this morning seemed to understand him without any problems at all.  He’s not the trained monkey that Erin is, but he loves to song along with us, especially in there are motions to do.  And he remembers everything I say, whether he’s willing to spit it back to me or not.  His favorite songs are “My God is So Big” and “I Gotta Feeling” (Black Eyed Peas).  I know…he’s eclectic. And he is such a sweet little guy.  He loves talking to people, whether they get him or not, and he is totally enamored of “big kids.”  He’s definitely still our Bud-Bud, but it’s crazy to see how fast he’s changing these days. 

And that, in a nut shell, is our little group.  Of course, this update was brought to you courtesy of Megan’s 11th month of life, and hopefully, I won’t wait until her 1 year post to update again.  But we shall see…

Happy Thursday!

Yesterday, I had a “moment.”  I felt it coming.  And for once, I knew the exact second it hit me.  

I was on the phone with my sister.  Megan was babbling on the floor behind me.  Erin got up from her nap and joined us, which means she was also talking (since sound starts coming from her mouth at the second she realizes that she is, in fact, awake).  Immediately, Erin needed to go potty, so we hurried to my bathroom, Megan behind us, while I tried to continue conversing intelligently with Karen on the phone.  Except…Erin decided the toilet needed flushed before she could go, and before I could stop her, Karen and Megan were drowned out by the sound of rushing water.

That was the moment.  That second…right there.  

It was the exact moment when my brain shut down.  Too much stimulation.  Too many competing sounds and sensory inputs.  Overwhelming noise and need and energy-drain.  It was just too much. 

I went into auto-pilot.  And sad to say, I stayed there for the rest of the day (as, not surprisingly, the amount of noise and activity in my house didn’t go down until after bedtime).

Thankfully, I could still function.  I actually got some stuff done.  I even played (sort of) with my kids.  But I wasn’t fully there.  I wasn’t engaged.  I was done. 

I could bemoan my inability to stay focused and attentive to every single second of my day.  I could beat myself up for wasting precious moments with my little ones who won’t be little for very long.  I could spend my morning trying to “make up for” last night’s attitude that bedtime couldn’t come fast enough.  But I’m not going to.  Why?

Because of the verse I read this morning.  James 2:13 – Mercy triumphs over judgement.  

See, I am a recovering perfectionist.  I am harsh and critical and set the bar far too high for any human being to reach.  I am a judger of persons, and I am hardest on myself.  But that is not God’s way.  God is Mercy.  God does not expect perfection.  He expects availability.  He doesn’t want me to work for years in my own strength to achieve that one “perfect” day (however I define it).  He wants me to open myself up to Him, to His power, to His Spirit so that whatever I accomplish today can be for His glory and of eternal value.  

And beating myself up (judgement) isn’t going to help me do things God’s way.  Falling on His Mercy is the only way that’s going to happen.

So today, I’m cutting myself some slack.  I’ll get done what I can.  I’ll withstand the constant noise and neediness as best I can.  I’ll do a lot of short, in-the-moment praying.  I’ll try to stay connected to Him and to my children.  And maybe even let mercy overwhelm my moments instead of letting my moments overwhelm me.

At least…that’s the plan.