Kai's 4!

Well, it's a week late, but Happy Birthday to Kai! My ten pound, bouncing baby boy is now an almost 50 pound bouncing 4 year old!

He had a FANTASTIC birthday extravaganza! On Monday morning we took the neighbor girl bowling with us and forgot to bring our camera. I was mad, too, because bowling was hilarious! If you've never bowled with small children before, you have to try it. It takes about twice as long as bowling with grownups but watching a four year old heave a bowling ball down the alley without killing anyone is well worth the extra time!
The funniest part, though, was Kai telling everyone that we weren't going bowling for his birthday. I told him that yes, bowling was for his birthday. His response was: "I'm not 4 yet, am I? Then it's not for my birthday!" Sometimes I wish I was as sure about my world as he is about his!

Later on Monday we went down to Grandma and Grandpa's house for dinner, cake and presents. We all had a great time! Kai especially loved all the presents; although he had a lot of help opening and playing with them. In fact, this last picture is the only one I could find of Kai by himself.

The best part is, now he's convinced that he's almost 5. Every day he asks us, "Am I 5 today?" and when we tell him no, his response is: "Well, when am I going to be 5?" I have to admit, I don't want him to be 5! Just stay 4, little buddy. It's all good.

My reflection

Looking at pictures of myself is always an interesting endeavor. I've come to realize lately that what I see when I look in the mirror is different than what others see when they look at me and when I look at a picture of myself, I am forced to see what others see.

The fact is, the person in this picture is a stranger to me. I've spent the better part of 23 years convincing myself that I'm okay. As a result, I've developed a condition I like to call "Reverse Anorexia". The main symptom of this condition is the ability to look in the mirror and not see the extra 150 pounds that is clearly obvious to the rest of the world. It's not so much that I'm comfortable with the way I look, it's more that I'm in complete denial about the way I look.

How did I let myself get to this point, you may ask. Well, I'm not entirely sure and the disparity between how I think I look and how I actually look is starting to cause some problems for me. So I guess I'd better do something about it. Maybe it would help if I began to cultivate a little less self-acceptance and a little more of this:

Let's go clean the basement

My Grandma once told me that when she and Grandpa were young newlyweds, she didn't get to see her parents much. She said she remembered one day when she was feeling especially sad and lonely Grandpa told her that sitting around feeling bad wasn't going to make it better. He then invited her to come clean the basement.

Knowing that my Grandpa was a very wise and kind man, but not terribly understanding when it came to womanly things, I asked her if it helped.
Her answer was: "Well, I still cried, but I guess it took my mind off my troubles."

You know, my troubles are not the same as my Grandma's troubles, but that doesn't mean I don't have troubles. I have days when I am so weary of cleaning, cooking, errands, homework, laundry, housework, yardwork, potty training, etc. etc. that I just want to hide! The mundane sameness that is my life becomes very overwhelming. Those days become my "blah" days. Those are the days I tend to indulge my laziness. I think: "I'll feel better after I rest and relax". But of course I never do, in fact, I usually feel worse!

Those are the days when I can practically hear Grandpa say to me: "Let's go clean the basement". Sigh. Okay, Grandpa. Let's go clean the basement.

I'm not "That Mom"

I was watching TV yesterday afternoon (as I folded laundry and silently cursed the Scott's guy for fertilizing my lawn on the hottest day of the year BEFORE I could water it) and I began to notice a similarity in the commercials that were coming on. All of them showed "moms" doing "mom things". In one, a group of moms took care of scrapes with military precision; in another, a perfectly groomed, fit (young) mom fed her smiling children plates of food made beautiful with fresh fruits and veggies; in yet another, a mom picked up her kids (and half the neighborhood) in her clean, state-of-the art, fashionable mini van.
As I watched these perfect TV moms, it came to me that I'm not "That Mom". I'm very rarely sympathetic when my kids scrape their knees (it's a long way from your heart, as my dad would say), I'm NEVER perfectly groomed (or fit), it takes my kids a whole week to get ONE day's serving of fruits and vegetables, and in spite of the fact that we spent a small fortune getting the van cleaned, I can no longer see out the windows because of the bugs and dirt all over them (inside and out).
But you know, I don't want to be "That Mom". So what if I scream and yell and cry? So what if I'm fat and dirty and stinky (sometimes)? So what if my kids eat junk food and I occasionally (gasp) SPANK them? To all those impossibly perfect TV Moms I say, go jump in a lake!
It turns out that I love my kids more than anyone else in this whole world ever could and they know it! In my own imperfect way, I take care of them and provide for them (with Brian's help, of course!), nurture them and teach them. And, I LIKE my noisy, rowdy, stinky, dirty, messy life! I refuse to live any other way!

Although, I would enjoy never having to clean poop out of underwear again.