"No Success Can Compensate . . .

...For failure in the home." So the quote goes and so my SIL reminded me when I recounted to her a conversation Tyler and I had the night before. Bless my husband's heart; I mean really bless him all over the place, but he was very generous to let me have a huge whine fest the other night when he opened it by saying, "You seem kinda burned out." Oh baby, let me count the ways. So, of course, for the billioneth time I had to belabor the laundry list of issues I am having. Y'all know I got a lotta issues. And primary among them is I can't let much slide off my back. SOOO much drives me nutso. The touching and poking and pushing and tagging and running and shouting and whining and NOISE. And I imagine it's fairly normal for siblings to be all over each other, but I tend to try and intervene, cuz, well, that's what I do. Anyway, Brevin and Brock are all rough and tumble and then someone is crying and that gets old all day long and Caylee constantly tells me about the injustices of their world and that drags on me after hearing about it forever. I have read enough to know I should be sugary sweet and ignore it all, but I forget all that when I am losing it and end up ranting and raving like a lunatic. No, really, it's that bad. I look forward to the day when my kids are old enough to see the warning signs and just back away. Like, "Oh. When Mom tells us she's losing her patience it probably wouldn't BEHOOVE me to tell her I don't like what she's making for dinner even though I have never tried it" or "Gosh, since Mom just said she's had a really long day and she's tired I am going to save the tattling about Caylee having a wet washcloth for another time since it's really not life threatening." Because, again, they tell me and I react. Oh, I have tried ignoring it, but that doesn't seem to work well either. So, when, at the finish of my unleashing Tyler asked, "So, what should we do?" (So typical. Problem + solution = no more onry wife) I suggested (kinda half joking) "Daycare? Really, they're the professionals. And then if our kids are screwed up as adults we have somebody to blame. Right now if they grow up all screwed up it's MY FAULT!" So, it recapping that story Lexi reminded me that "No other success in the world can compensate for failure in the home." My response to that? It's not going to be success if there's failure in the home! Shrug. I dunno. Seriously, this weighs heavily on my shoulders. I am raising people who will be out in the world one day and I have high expectations. I don't think I can not teach them to be the best because, despite all our best efforts, nobody is perfect. And I expect for them to be like me in that if I strive (or expect a lot of myself) for a lot in my parenting obligations, hopefully I'll fall short still in the "good" category. However sometimes I feel like I am shooting for the all-star parent and landing in the hopefully-they-won't-have-to-pay-too-much-in-therapy zone. I do have to say, I think for the most part my kids are good in public situations (especially if you don't count Caylee's floosey reputation at preschool, Brevin's defiance in primary, and Mackenzie's need to take her teacher's spotlight), but at home, where we are ALL THE TIME, we need to be better . . .or mutes. We could be mutes and be completely successful, right?!

We didn't make it to kids camp today cuz Brevin had a case of the pukes last night. Isn't it funny how you try and trace your kids' illnesses and then it becomes the fault of someone else? Like that makes you feel better or something. Well, Brevin is sick because he was around Seth who was sick, like four days ago. Or, Mackenzie and Caylee had something similar that they got from Courtney when we were at Jared and Mindie's last night. So, as I am scrubbing the carpet of tossed watermelon and fish tacos-a-la-regurgetate I am thinking how it's all Seth and Courtney's fault. Which, it's not, but they're the closest relatives most recently sick. He seems fine today, but it was a long night when you factor in Tyler's band practice (solo bedtime duties, violin practice, baths, barf duty, etc.) with Brevin's repeat performances (in the toilet this time) and Caylee's bad dreams. We ended up with two beds on our floor and many trips across the house (which I don't say to sound like we have a large house, but it seems a far ways away at 1:15am and 3:43am and 5:20am) a few times. Again, the joys of parenthood. Now that I mention it, though, with Brevin kindof puny there's been less bickering as a whole. Maybe that's the ticket . . . sick kids. Munch-hausen anybody? JUST KIDDING, gosh!

Alright. Now let me qualify and reiterate, I love my kids. They make me laugh as much (well, probably more) than I scream. How can I not love it when my three year old says to me the other night when I was changing his clothes (and I am kneeling in front of him) "Mom, why do your boobs go down sometimes?" At first I thought he meant the underside of my bra being against my body, but then Brevin clarified, "No, when you take your shirt off your boobs go down." "Oh," I say, trying not to be sad for the plain truth, "it's cuz mom has big boobs and if I don't have a bra to keep them up they'll go down." Still playing Captain Obvious he keeps going, "They move a lot. Dad's boobs don't move so much as yours move." Me, "Nope, cuz Dad's got small boobs, well he doesn't have boobs he has a chest. Boobs move." Him, "Yeah, I got small boobs too." Yep. And so how can I not love those tender moments of education and honesty between a mom and child!? I do. I really do. Success or not!