Rowing our boat

This week was my oldest's kindergarten graduation, and after it was over, we were "encouraged" to take our students and spend a fun day with them. I did NOT want to be that parent who leaves her kid at school while all but one other kid get to go home at 9:45. First of all, my son would never let me forget it, but his teacher might not either. Far be it from me to be the one to jip a kindergarten teacher out of a day off!

So...while we were finishing up a couple of morning errands, we started talking about boats and remembered the inflatable kayak in our garage that's only been used once. That's how our fun afternoon on the lake was birthed! With my mom watching the little ones, C and I headed to Buffalo Springs Lake, a whopping 15 minute drive from our house. I haven't been there in 10 years or more because it's dirty and stinky, but dirty and stinky go hand in hand with 6 year old boys! We spent about 2 and 1/2 hours paddling around and chatting. We also spent a good bit of that time trying to keep the kid from swimming, splashing me, or peeing over the side. The water was so murky that I was terrified of getting a flesh-eating disease or that if he came out of his life jacket, I would never be able to get him. Eeeh! I don't even like thinking about that now. I also had to keep tugging at my life jacket because I accidentally grabbed my husbands extra large, and it kept riding up my neck making me look like a turtle with it's head in its shell.

We had to sing "Row row row your boat" and make up other little rhymes to keep our rowing in sync. Harder than you might think. If we rowed in unison, we zig zagged, but if we could stagger our strokes -one rowing right, left and the other rowing left,right-we could slice through the water much faster. Good workout and great bonding time. I hope we get to spend many more days on the water together. Next time though I will remember to sunblock my legs (or at least toast the backs of my legs first so they stay even), bring a life jacket that lets me see out and breathe, and work my triceps in advance so when my biceps are firm from rowing, the backs of my arms won't look extra saggy like they do now.

Fyi, one should never EVER have Cheetos in the house when one is having a pity party! Just sayin. I'm over it now, but the Cheeto guilt lasts for days.

Yesterday our Sunday school class took personality profile tests. Your answers determine into which of four categories you are grouped: sanguine, choleric, melancholy, and phlegmatic. I looked up the true definitions of the words because they all sound so appealing! In case you were wondering, sanguine means cheerful, passionate, related to blood. Choleric is bad tempered, melancholy means gloomy or depressed, and phlegmatic means "having a sluggish temperament." Which one do you root for? I mean, 3/4 of them sound like pretty crummy people to be around. So what are the odds that both my spouse and I could wind up in the "sanguine" category and have proof on paper of our wonderful personalities? Apparently not good. We did initially score exactly the same in 3 of the 4 categories. We both had 9 points for sanguine, 13 for choleric, and 11 for melancholy. We also both got hardly any points in the phlegmatic category. Notice how I said "initially?" That's because I was so shocked that we are so much alike that I looked at all his answers and made him change a couple of them. That's further proof of my bad tempered personality I guess. In truth, the cholerics are the type who like to be in control, are outspoken, and stubborn. I SO hate having to claim those traits!

It explains so much about our relationship. We are both headstrong, determined to be right, unsympathetic (to an extent), and controlling. If you don't know us, I bet you're wishing you did now! People always say opposites attract, and Brent and I are in SOME ways, but apparently fewer than I realized. The upside to finding out you married your opposite sex mirror image is that I know the fun, good things I love so much about Brent are somewhere inside me as well. He helps to bring out the fun side of me, and hopefully I help to bring out his compassionate side. I also hope we've used up the family allotment of stubborn and bossy so there's none left for our children. How blessed it would be for them (and their eventual mates) if they become cheerful, considerate peacemakers. However, I have met all three of them, and it would seem that the apples have not fallen far from their parental trees. It would be good to start a prayer chain for the ones who would marry them one day.

An Erma Bombeck Mother's Day

Here's an excerpt from Erma Bombeck's take on Mother's Day:

"A mixer whirs, out of control, then stops abruptly as a voice cries, 'I'm telling.' A dog barks and another voice says, 'Get his paws out of there. Mom has to eat that!' Minutes pass and finally, 'Dad! Where's the chili sauce?' Then, 'Don't you dare bleed on Mom's breakfast!' The rest is a blur of banging doors, running water, rapid footsteps and a high pitched, 'YOU started the fire! YOU put it out!' And breakfast arrives.

"Later in the day, after you have decided it's easier to move to a new house than clean the kitchen, you return to your bed where, if you're wise, you'll reflect on this day. For the first time, your children have given instead of received. They have offered up to you the sincerest form of flattery: trying to emulate what you do for them."

My special day actually came early when my gift from my favorite store arrived via UPS. I love that my husband gets that about me! Then Saturday I wanted to do a nice thing for my family by making my favorite meal (and one of my mom's faves too) that night so it would be ready to eat after church on Sunday. It was a great idea in theory, and when I fell into bed at 1:45 a.m., I felt really proud of my accomplishment. I had even cleaned up my mess and taped a sign to the door reminding me to put the meatloaf in the oven before leaving the house. Except that our church has a lovely Mother's Day tradition called "Mommies and Muffins" that requires harried families to get to church 30 minutes earlier than usual so the mothers can dine with their children in their Sunday best. It's really quite sweet to get your picture taken as a family and all, but while the dads drop their families at the door and make a Starbucks run, moms get to corral youngsters in a dog and pony show that resembles to torture for a mother of three.

My 6 yr old served himself and sat very nicely next to me inhaling 3 chocolate muffins and several creme-filled danishes. Thankfully, the sugar high didn't kick in until after I dropped him off with his Sunday school teachers. The 4 yr old didn't find anything at all that she would eat, including strawberries. Every other day of the year she loves them, but suddenly this time, strawberries were gross! The 2 yr old was happy to get to sit in a big kid chair and use a real plastic fork...to mutilate his muffin, but not to eat a single bite. He then proceeded to run around the room shrieking and enticing his sister into a game of chase. Women in heels carrying plates of food are less than impressed with this game when it causes them to dodge small children without falling on their butts. A sweet friend and fellow chaos keeper told me afterward that we should petition to have "Donuts with Dads" moved to Mother's Day and all us moms would get coffee together next year.

We managed to survive "Mommies and Muffins" as well as get through service with a wiggly, temperamental, HUNGRY drama queen, and I was really looking forward to my well-planned meal just minutes away. That is until my husband asked me as we pulled into the drive, "How did you set the oven timer?" Crap! In our rush to get out the door, I never saw my sign! I blew up at my husband and had a major meltdown over the lunch we wouldn't get to eat, and I single-handedly ruined my own Mother's Day by acting like a baby.

My dearest quickly came to my rescue by grilling chicken, and my wonderful mother was just happy to have the time with her grandbabies. All turned out fine in the end, but my inflexibility and disappointment were a lesson to my kids, I'm sure. I am very blessed to be the mom of three of the funniest, sweetest, cutest kids in the world. I have the gift of a godly man who takes very good care of me, and I am the daughter of a godly woman who lives close by. Life is good...even without meatloaf!

If I don't end up on the news tonight, it will be a miracle! The blowing dirt wreaks havoc on my allergies, and I am powerless without healthy doses of Zyrtec and Claritin. The side effects of these antihistamines include everyone who says your name suddenly causes you to want to beat the irritating right out of them. If you take either of these meds and feel like that, it's not your fault-it's your spouse and children who are inflicting themselves on you in your vulnerable state. For instance, currently one child is throwing a fit because I didn't compliment her artwork with the precise wording she suggested. In "correcting" me, she screamed and repeated herself so much that the words "SHUT UP" were hurled out of my mouth before I could stop them. And when my husband asked me to turn off something outside that I had forgotten to do the night before, it took every bit of my self control not to throw dirty dishes and laundry at him. Don't even get me started on the affairs of my housework right now. I realize I should be folding rather than typing with enough force to send the keys right the  rough the bottom of the keyboard, but if I don't vent, the police will have to come!

I have tried to take less volatile remedies like Benadryl, but then I fall asleep. Yesterday the toddler emptied a bottle of hand soap all over the floor while I was alert and feet away, so I shudder to think what the three of them could do if I were in a Benadryl-induced coma.

And so, rather than pray for patience, I will pray for the wind to stop blowing and for peace in our home. You can help by praying for my kids to be sweet and the house cleaning fairy to be swift.

Embarrassing moments are usually really funny to people who didn't live the embarrassment, so I thought I'd share one of mine in hopes that as you laugh, it will help me laugh about it too.

I took the two younger kids shopping this morning, and we had to make a stop in the ladies room at the mall. My daughter, who is never at a loss for words, loudly proclaimed, "Oh Mom! You're really stinky!" It wasn't me. Really! Approximately two seconds later, she pointed out the shoes in the stall next to us and said, "that lady's feet are huge." I almost didn't take time to wash my hands before we flew out of there. However, it was a public restroom, so I scrubbed quickly and praised my merciful Father in Heaven that we made it out of there before Stinky Big Shoes left the stall. Although, now that I think about it, she was probably waiting for us to leave first. I don't blame her. I would have apologized, but how would one go about that? Nevermind.

On a related note, the very same 4 year old was rewarded at Hobby Lobby for sweet, quiet behavior later today with a $2 battery powered fan. With blades sturdily constructed of craft foam, it's not powerful enough to injure a little brother, but just powerful enough to puree a popsicle all over the kitchen. I SO wish I was making that up. I'm off to mop.