A Covert Operation

Silence. Ahhh, my mind floats and concentration evades me. Where am I? I don't care. All I know is that the house, yes I believe I am in a house, is quiet and peace prevails. Wait a minute, peace? My calm and blissfully ignorant state of mind is shattered as I come upon the rapid realization that something is elementally wrong with this picture. I have an 18 month old, nothing should ever be quiet. Frantically, I pull myself out of my hazed stupor and proceed to search high and low for my busy little boy. "Caleb!" I call out, nothing. I search his room, the toys sit in wild abandon, mocking my futile efforts. "Caleb, come to mommy!" The bathroom... perhaps he is playing with the toilet paper! Running in that direction, I come upon definite signs of his presence, but my son is nowhere to be seen. The toilet paper has mysteriously been emptyed off its roll and haphazardly discarded into the toilet; which upon closer examination, now has the appearance of being hopelessly clogged. Yup, he was here all right! I close the door behind me to ensure no more damage ensues and continue looking. Selah's room is next, but the door is still closed, and she is still sleeping. No signs of toddler trouble here. The living room is empty as well. Cautiously arriving at my last resort I slow my pace and very carefully peer into the depths of the kitchen... nothing? Wait, that cannot be! There is no where else in this little house for him to hide! And then I hear it... "crinkle, crinkle, crinkle," he has to be here somewhere. Upon closer examination, I see my little monkey... under the table. He has geniously discovered his "potty candy" from the bathroom, and retreated to his hideaway to devour it in utter secrecy. Aha! Carefully assuming my "stern mommy" face, I step into the kitchen with my hands on my hips. "Caleb, what are you doing?" I watch as my son goes absolutely still, obviously under the misconceived impression that if he doesn't move, I can't see him (has he been watching too much jurrasic park with daddy???). As I begin my descent to his level, my ingenious son quickly realizes his precarious situation, and hastily shoves the remaining stash into his mouth. From here, he looks up at me apologetically as he preforms the sign for 'sorry' in a most convincing manner. I, being the all-knowing mother, have seen this act one too many times and proceed to lovingly and strictly direct my son towards his appropriate punishment. Afterwards, he grins up at me and runs away, mouth still brimming with candy. I sit down on the couch with a sense of wonderment. For despite doing all the right things, I have the uncanny impression that my son has just won the: "Battle for the candy." Oh well, there's always next time right?

Family Life

Well, I figure an update is in order, considering I haven't written in about a month. One month, a short amount of time, and yet in the lives of young children, an eternity. For a good portion of this month, we were vacationing... which one might define as going to a new place or somewhere warm for a memorable family experience. We, the spooners, define it as going to visit family. Whoop-de-do. And yet, still memorable and enjoyable. We packed up on the 11th, and came home on the 21st. From there, we had one night to do laundry and repack before we went with Jess and Andy to the states. What fun! How is it that when considering going somewhere, my common sense goes out the window????? "We will stay in hotel for a couple of nights! Won't that be fun????" NO! HOTEL BAD.... NOT FUN! What was I thinking? Two kids in the same room as us, screaming and wailing from being in the car? Oy vey. Needless to say, it was actually not that bad. We went to Spokane and I was able to get most of the kids' summer clothes (albeit no cheaper than I would have here in Canada, but hey, it was something new) as well as cut off all my hair. All right, not all of it, but a good portion. I got a good visit in with my sister, and got to see a long-lost friend that I haven't seen in 6 years! All in all, a profitable trip. And if I am learning anything about children, it is this:
You can let them control your life. Never leave home. It really is easier that way. Stick to the routine. Everyone is happy. OR... you can do what you want to do. Make memories. You won't really remember the sweating, panicking, hopelessly trying to soothe and pacify... all you will remember is the picture... a smiling, happy family! Oh please, let this be true?!?!?!

Needless to say, we came home from all this travelling exhausted and... wait for it... sick (of course). Our house is now officially heaped with clothes, laundry, suitcases, and toys. But we are home. Home, home, home. Now all I need to do is get busy and find a place for all these new arrivals to the spooner household. Oh wait, there is not place for them! Hello mess, goodbye order. As for the kids, what can I say? Growing like weeds, cliche I know, but so true. My little girl has officially graduated from an infant, to a moving and groving baby. She has changed so much in the last month, I hardly recognize her. She used to play strange with ANYONE other than me, gone. She is the happiest baby on the block. Pass her off to complete strangers, and she has a grin for all of them! Is it wrong to be a little bit sad? She now has two teeth, nursing is a joke... all she wants to do is take me with her as she explores her whole new world. She is so close to crawling, can move forwards, backwards, and turn herself in every which direction... in other words, MOBILE! Sniff, when did this happen? Caleb, on the other hand, is my steady man. He tries any word you say, walks, runs, and his newest acheivement... jumping (he barely leaves the ground, but I swear the kid thinks he is flying!). He loves to dance, and if you have ever watched Elaine on Seinfeld's dance moves, you will know his style. Very similar. Don't ask where he learned to dance like that! He is our sicky right now. He has never had the flu before, and I must say, I am definitely more sympathetic with the flu than when he has a cold. I have changed his sheets and outfit 8 times in the last day and half. And now my husband has started. Vitamin C, here I come! He has all four of his eye teeth, FINALLY! Hallelujah!

Well, that is our family in a nutshell, for now that is. I would love to continue writing about the crazy events of our everyday life, however now that the kids are sleeping, my job begins. It is now or never... and the suitcases are in desperate need to be emptied. So, wishing you all a happy end to your week... Spooner out.

The ultimate parent

What a week! What a month really. Filled with screaming children, tantrums, spontaneous tears, whining, fussing, kids pulling at my legs, etc. etc. etc. And I am loathe to remind myself that this will be the next 2 (at least) years of my life. If there is anything my short experience at motherhood has taught me, it is that there is no right answer. Every child is different, every parent is different, and every situation is different. But this does not stop me from being overcome by the "mother guilt" every once in a while. Take my son for example, this teething thing is becoming the excuse of the century, and I now have no idea what to do. Is he really teething, or is he just over-tired, perhaps I put him to bed too early, or maybe he had a bad dream. Do I give him tylenol, or am I just over-drugging a kid that doesn't need it???? And round and round I go. Then there is my daughter, an even bigger enigma. I feed her, and feed her and feed her, and still she wants more. She is not gaining as much as she should and so I have doctors breathing down my neck to switch to formula. That is all fine and dandy for them, but my little girl wouldn't dream of letting a bottle or the wretched taste of formula anywhere NEAR her queenly little mouth. Oh dear, now what? I feed her solid food twice a day and try to rest and drink lots of fluid to increase my milk supply... it is an ongoing, continuous, constant case of nerves. Is she getting enough? What do I do? How can I increase my milk? etc. etc. etc.

Don't get me wrong, I love being a mother, and I suppose if it didn't come with challenges, I would get bored much to easily. But that doesn't stop me from being bombarded with the question I ask myself EVERY DAY..... what now?

My dear husband hears a squeak out of our children and the first adoring words out of his mouth are: "what do they want?" As if I would know. I must admit that I have been known to throw my hands up in the air, and walk away, adamately declaring, "I don't know, you deal with it." This is a wonderful approach to my temporary lack of sanity, until minutes later I hear my children still crying and my husband standing in the same spot as he has NO idea what do do. Sigh, mom is back on the job. I suppose I will never get to renounce my duties. I will always be the one with the "collossal answer", even when I feel as though there is no answer. And so it is that I find myself time and time again calling out to God for answers. It is with great regret that I admit that he is often my last resort, and because of that, I believe that I miss out on much wisdom. However, he is always faithful to me, and even if the answer to my question is "go with your gut" or "trust me" or simply "do nothing, wait" there is always an answer, if I simply seek it. And so,dear reader, I am not a perfect parent, FAR FROM IT! But I get my tips and tricks from the best parent there is, and it is through Him that I will press on to my goal.

Happy parenting!

Sleepless in the Spooner house...

The radio is blaring, or maybe it is a siren, I can't tell. I painstaikingly claw my way to consciousness, only to discover that it is Caleb's screaming and headbanging (yes, I said headbanging) that woke me. Laying in bed, I toss and turn, going through the "great debate" of what to do. Is he teething? Did he have a bad dream? Should I let him cry? What if he wakes Selah? Should I give him medicine? And on and on it goes. Finally deciding on a course of action, I crawl out of the warmth of my bed to confront this little powerhouse of a boy, my boy. Oy vey. From 12am-2am I drag myself out of bed no less than 20 times. Back and forth, back and forth. Only to have it start again at 6am when the motrin wears off. This pretty much describes my WEEK. One night, selah will sleep through it all, other nights it wakes her up. Take last night for example. Starting to get the picture of this whole "teething" thing. As soon as he woke up, I gave him motrin and took him to bed with me. After about 20 minutes (just long enough for the medicine to catch) I toted him back off to bed, and it worked!!!!! For a while anyways. He fell back asleep, selah woke up, I fed her and got her back to sleep, and.... you guessed it! Caleb woke up! A game of ping pong, in which I was forced to run from one end of the table to the other, this resulting in NO sleep at all. After a week of this, I feel worse than I did after Selah was born. And I thought the molars were bad! My son was joyfully awake and ready for the day at 5am, and no, he did not go back to bed (I even caved and gave him food in his bed, just to get a few more minutes of sleep). So here, I sit, awake half the night and up since 5, downing coffee as though my life depended on it. And yet, as I got Selah up for the day, I walked her out to where her brother was chowing down in his chair, explaining, "Yes, that's your brother. Brother was up half the night screaming like a maniac!" Of course, I say all of this in a sing song voice, and my adorable little son looks at her with his fake little grin on his face and nods his head dramatically... "yaaa selah, yaaa!" Oh my gosh, how can I be mad?????

So, choosing to take on an air of indifference to the nights in the Spooner Household, I am instead assaulted by the trials of the day. Spilling coffee all over, tripping on the mat, dropping food on the floor... yes, that's right, it is going to be another "one of those days". God help me. Literally.

Mental Recall

The Holidays... a time for rest and relaxation; fellowship with family and friends. A mental marker, if you will, of the passage of time. This marks our third Christmas as a married couple, our second with children, our first with Selah. It was mind boggling to watch our son, who was little more than a cheery presence last year, rip open gifts with the tenacity of a one-year-old. Screaming outrageously when our attentions were not focused on him, and participating in the festivities for the first time. My thoughts are so scattered right now, I hardly know where to begin. We spent Christmas alone this year, and I must admit, it was a very liberating experience. No people to visit, nothing pressing to do, just waking up and being together as a family. Forging our own traditions and making our own memories. Shortly after Christmas, we had Jonathan's brother and sister-in-law come out for almost a week. And I am more determined and excited than ever to move and be closer to the family that we hold so dear. For the first time in a long time, I had someone to visit with. The kids were happily occupied as they were busy observing their cousins theatrics! Everything was less of a chore and more of a opportunity to catch up, and watching them leave I was almost lost in a feeling of emptiness. Waking up in the morning was no longer as enjoyable, as I was greeted by the screeches of my boy as he adamantly proclaimed his needs and desires. There is no longer a pressing reason to clean my house, or even get dressed in the morning, other than my own sense of accomplishment and obligation. And as I sat there, feeling sorry for myself, I was struck anew by the realization that this is life. And the challenge is not living it day-by-day, rather it is in finding joy and satisfaction in the little things. And so it was, that I bathed my kids last night, side-by-side for the first time. And watched in wonder and sheer awe as Caleb crawled from his big bath, to sit with Selah in the baby bath. He helped wash her hair, give her his toys, and play with her feet as he has seen me do time and time again. And watching her grin at her big brother in complete adoration, I thought "this is it". This is the reason I get up in the morning. It doesn't matter if I do it alone, I do it for them. And I reap so much in the process!

So am I lonely and missing my family? Yes. But I persevere in the knowledge that one day I will be closer. Until then, I find fulfillment in the job that God has given me to do... and am rewarded by a smile or a kiss, or better yet... my children smiling and kissing each other. What more could I ask for????

Happy Holidays!

Magnificent Mondays

Monday, the beginning of the week. The return to the blessed routines and structures that govern our lives. It brings with it a certain sense of peace and comfort, knowing that reality has settled and you're busy days are once again dictated by the steady tick of the clock. You, my friend, are just along for the ride. I love Mondays. I would love them even more if they fit their wondrous meaning for me. Unfortunately, shift work is a jumble of uncertainty and my "Monday" is often a Saturday or a Wednesday and there are days I feel completely lost. And yet today I find myself experiencing this day to its full extent. Jonathan is off, so for us it is really a Saturday, but he is sleeping. And if there is one thing I am realizing, it is that with children, the routine goes on. Caleb does not just "sleep in" for me on a Saturday. No, he is a like a little bird who chirps his dire needs to me until I am reduced to the state of awareness. Selah does not ignore her instincts to feed in the middle of the night. No, young children make every day a Monday. And those rare times where you take them out of their comfortable environment of routine and structure, the "joy" of your excursion is quickly replaced by anxiety.

Take yesterday for example. Jonathan had a benefit basketball game in Grand Forks. Greatly anticipating getting out of our sleepy little town, I could tell he very much so wanted me to come along. And so it was that I found myself getting up early so that I could get ready. Getting the children ready. Packing snacks. Packing toys. Making sure there were diapers and blankets and coats and hats, and the list went on. Finally ready, we were off. The real fun didn't start until we got there. We were a little bit early, so we walked around, trying to get Caleb to walk off some of his abounding energy. Time? 1pm. At 2, Jonathan got to leave the outrageous responsibility of keeping a 1 year old quiet and contained when there are bouncing balls flying at him... and go to warm up. Leaving me... alone. The routine? Shattered. Selah, having missed her nap, is crying if anyone even dares to look in her emotional direction. Caleb, squealing "daddy daddy daddy" is consistently running out to the court, anxious to be just like his dad. And so, with my daughter strapped to my front, my son kicking at my hip, and toys and food littering the floor, the game began. The commencing hours are really a little bit of a blur to me. I do remember having a thin sheen of sweat on my body the entire time. As I raced after Caleb, stressed over my screaming daughter, trying to keep a semblance of control over my little family... I realized that no other mothers of toddlers had brought their adorable children. Ah, to be home. Half time brought Jonathan into the back room, wondering with disdain and disappointment, why I wasn't out there watching him play. Needless to say, we got through it. I think my blood pressure was a little bit elevated. But during the second half, I simply allowed my exhaustion to show, and I had a number of willing helpers to aide my son in watching the game. Why couldn't that have happened in the beginning? And yet, during all of this upheaval, I heard for the FIRST time!!! My son call my name. Someone had lovingly picked him up before he ran into the middle of the court and he started crying... they said "oh, do you want your mama" and so it was that I heard my son giggle in anticipation as he cried out "mama, mama!" Never has my heart been so full as at that moment. So he does know who I am!!!! Arriving home, with tired kids and an injured husband, I felt satisfied and content. This is what life is all about. Defying the structure that keeps us comfortable and reaching out to accept God's little miracles that lie just outside of our comfort zone.

And so, despite the craziness and wonder of our Sunday, I must say that as I drink my coffee, listen to my kids play happily... I am SOOOOO thankful that it is once again Monday.

Rediscovering the Wonder

As I sit warm and cozy in my home, I gaze out the window to the blustery cold day. Snow drifts down in lazy circles before finding its final resting place on the earth below. My son sits beside me, in awe of the transformation taking place before his very eyes. The brown, dry ground is replaced by a vibrant white layer of snow, and all he can do is stare. And I practically vibrate in anticipation of the next day when I can show him firsthand what snow really is.

Thinking back on my life, I realize that winter was never one of my favorite seasons. In fact, I remember being only 6 or 7 years old and when all my brothers and sisters would be itching to go outside, I would have much rathered sit inside with a book to read. Even last year, my motivation to venture out-of-doors was greatly diminished with a four-month-old son. I didn't want him to get too cold, it was too much work to get him dressed up, it was too difficult to push the stroller through the snowbanks... the excuses were seemingly endless. And so it was that I spent much of my time warm and cozy within the confines of my comfortable little home. This year, everything has changed. My son is no longer the content little boy he once was. Instead he is vibrant and full of life. Every morning he begs me with a look of hopeful eagerness in his eyes, "ousi???" (that is outside for those of you who do not understand the great and wonderful speech of a child). And all of a sudden, I feel a tingle of that same anticipation. There is so much to show Caleb! So much he hasn't seen. All of a sudden, my little baby has grown into an exploring toddler, my little sponge ready to absorp all I am willing to teach him. And as we stoop down to examine a leaf, or some grass, or this new fresh landscape of snow, I am beginning to 'rediscover the wonder' of this incredible world around me. How many times have I walked past the bugs on the sidewalk, or ignored the birds flying overhead???? Not anymore, my son makes sure I don't miss these little miracles that happen everyday. Everything is new, everything is interesting, and it drives me out of my comfortable "nest" and into the cold, blustery world where there are countless things to discover together. And so it is, that Selah, too young to notice or care, is bundled up each and every day and taken out with her brother. She sits bound to my chest as she stares in awe at the world around her. She gasps and blinks with the gusting wind, she squints at the glowing sun, and I know that she too is learning about this marvellous world around her.

And so, despite my inbred desire to curl up on the couch and read a book, my kids give me the motivation and desire that all have failed to instill within me... and I am finally able to defy that inner instinct in favor of the "wonder" of the world outside my four walls. Happy discovering!