A game where the rules are constantly changing

That's what parenting is really like, isn't it? Parenting is like trying to learn a game where the rules are constantly changing.  My two and a half year old has finally decided to sleep again.  I write this as I am watching her playing in her crib on our monitor.  She's obviously out to prove me wrong.  When we brought her home from Haiti over a year ago at 21 months, she slept like a champ.  Plunk her down in her crib, walk out of the room, and she'd close her eyes and drift off to sleep without as little as a whimper or a wiggle.  Fast forward 9 or so months and she decided that crib time equals wiggle time and absolutely refused to nap. In addition, she rarely fell asleep before she'd been in her bed for 2-3 hours.  It's astonishing that I am not bald, because her antics had me pulling my hair out for 4 months straight!  The past week, though, all of a sudden she's back to her old sleep habits, mostly anyway.  I was doing the dishes today after I had put her down and began thinking about a friend of mine who has been really struggling with her daughter's behavior lately.  Her daughter has some special needs, so sometimes traditional advice just doesn't apply.  But it made me start thinking of parenting as seasons of change.  When you are in the midst of a season with your child and they are not eating, or not sleeping, or not using the potty, or whatever and you feel like its never going to change just remember that it probably will.  Or if it doesn't change, you'll find better ways of handling it.  And then when it changes, it'll be something new.  Each milestone reached brings on a new challenge.  I've found recently, though, after a long season of struggle as a parent, that I'd forgotten what it really is all about:  savoring the little moments.  I'd gotten so locked up inside me head with worrying over my children's behavior, that I'd forgotten to enjoy the laughter (regardless of whatever inappropriate thing my boys had done to start it), the little boy kisses, the wild imaginations, the little girl dancing to music only she can hear.  As the lady who stopped me in Chick-fil-a earlier this week reminded me, "They are only little for such a short time.  Enjoy them now."

"Super" patched jeans

So like most little boys, mine have an uncanny ability to wear holes in the jeans in nothing flat!  Its not time to buy a new size of jeans yet, so I was looking for a decent way to patch them that looked a little better than the cheapo iron on variety.  I took a pair of my husband's old jeans that were way too far gone to be repaired and cut out a patch the same size for each knee of my son's jeans.  Then, I used a Sharpie marker to draw some "super" cool images on the knees.  I used my sewing machine's satin stitch to attach the patches.  This was quite difficult because of the size of the jeans, but I made it work.  I did not use any iron on adhesive at all.  We'll see how well they wear.

My Alter Ego

My alter ego is SuperMom.  Her house is always spotless: no dirty dishes on the counter, no dust to be seen, floors clean, beds made with clean sheets.  The laundry is always done, folded, and put away.  Her spouse's work clothes perfectly ironed.  She always has dinner on the table at exactly 6pm when her spouse gets home from work.  It's always perfectly healthy and made entirely from scratch: no canned goods, all organic produce, locally-raised free-range meats.  Her children are always perfectly behaved.  No fits or screaming or crying in public.  They do not run in stores or touch the merchandise.  They are always wonderfully helpful and say "Yes, ma'am", "No, sir", "Please", and "Thank you very much".  When they do make a poor choice, SuperMom never yells, never berates, never spanks.  She calmly and lovingly explains the better choice.  She makes all her gifts from scratch and has a lucrative side business as a photographer, sells her crafts on Etsy, or is a consultant for some home-based business.  She never forgets a birthday or anniversary and always sends a card.  She takes meals to those she knows who are sick or injured or stressed.  She's active in the PTO and at church. She never eats chocolate before breakfast and works out for an hour three times per week. 

I wish my alter ego showed up more often.  The truth is... my alter ego might not actually exist.  I think she does and compare myself to her daily.. and I always come up short.  I have spent so much of my time as a stay-at-home mom feeling like a failure because my house is rarely clean, my laundry rarely completed, my husbands shirts never ironed.  Dinner is usually made and often healthy, but some days 6pm rolls around and I have nothing to feed my family.  My children know how to behave in stores, but they forget and often I yell.  I dream of selling on Etsy, but have never made it happen.  I can't tell you the last time I sent a card or the last time I worked out.  So why do I feel that being a good mom means being perfect?  I dunno.. what do you think?