While I rarely follow the celebrity gossip... okay... maybe a little... I saw that there was some controversy regarding Tom Cruise's daughter, at 5 years old, photographed with a pacifier in her mouth. I had been meaning to share our pacifier story so... maybe Suri Cruise will benefit as well.


Most people agree that there is an age when using a pacifier is no longer socially acceptable, the jury still seems to be out on when that actually is. Gavin used a pacifier (called a "binky" at our house) when he was an infant. Starting at about a year old he never really needed it during the day and was perfectly content with only using it at nap time and bed time. So, we did have it a bit easier than many parents out there. But when I say he was attached to it during sleep times would be an understatement. He HAD to have his binky or there was not going to be any sleep for anyone. When Gavin was about 2 1/2, I noticed that his favorite (and only) binky was really needing to be replaced. But, because he was so attached to not just his binky, he was attached to the orange binky with the yellow handle. So rather than go on a mission to find an identical match for a replacement, the decision was made. It was time to say good-bye to the binky.

Again, Gavin loved his binky. If it ever dared get lost in his covers in the middle of the night, Gavin would wake up screaming bloody murder. "I NEED my BINKY!!! MOOOOOOOOM!" Followed shortly thereafter by the tears of a terrified little boy. So, we knew that just taking the Binky one night was not going to work. We started talking about how it was going to be time to say good bye to the binky soon. Gavin, was okay with the idea but when it came time to put those ideas into action, thus began the freak-out if the century.

Doug and I talked about how we could do this without emotional upheaval. We were ready to just let him keep it (find the orange binky replacement) when I read this idea on a message board. It was ingenious! I can not claim it as my own but thought it would be worth passing on because most of us will one day face the issue of saying, "Buh-bye, binky."

We told him on the big day that he was going to go to a store where he was going to pick out his very own teddy bear. We told him that his "Bink" would get to live inside of the bear and he was just going to LOVE it. We talked it up all morning. The ride in the car was of nothing other than what we were doing. We talked about picking the bear, watching the bear get stuffed, and picking out clothes for the bear. When we got to the store we stayed as animated and excited as two adults can be inside a Build-A-Bear Workshop.

I subtly meandered to the counter to ensure that stuffing the binky in the bear was going going to be okay. I asked the woman behind the counter, "Is it okay if we put something in the bear before it is stuffed?"

"It depends on what it is." She said quizzically.

I fought back the urge to ask her what types of things would not be allowed to be stuffed in a bear. Perhaps a gun? Maybe I was hoping to have them help me smuggle some drugs? Maybe an used hypodermic needle was what I had in mind?

I told her about wanting to put the binky in the bear and she had no problem with it. Thank goodness, or else we were going to have to go back to the drawing board. Gavin picked out the bear he wanted and we took it to the lady at the stuffing station. We showed her the binky tucked into a sandwich bag. I figured that no one wanted to touch some other kids nasty old binky. She thought it would be a good idea to lead it in the bag so that he could actually hear it inside the bear as well as feel it. So in it went. No turning back now. We picked out the clothes and made a certificate for the bear. He is officially named, "Bink." We took him home and dressed him up.

That night, Doug and I held our breath as he crawled into bed that night without a binky in his mouth. He slept. No tears. No wanting a binky. He had Bink the Bear now. I figured that in a day or two the novelty of the bear might wear off but that was 7 months ago. It was the easiest transition I could have ever dreamed of. He didn't even care when Joey started using a binky. It did cost us about 30 dollars but it was worth every penny.

Gavin is obsessed with mints.  Starting when he was about 2 1/2 he discovered Altoids.  You know, the "curiously strong" mints.  The kind that even some full grown adults find to be almost too painful to enjoy.  Well, Gavin would chew them.  He'd pop them in his mouth and chew them up and ask for more.  Ever since then, he likes to have mints in the car.  When we would climb in to the car, he could hardly wait until I had my seat belt on so that he could ask for his mint.   Then, it turned into him asking for one on the return trip.  I would usually give in.  That is when things got crazy!  He would ask for a mint any time the car was parked and sometime when it wasn't.  So, we had to wean him from mints.  We still have some mints in the car but it is no longer a "given" anytime he is in the car.

The other day Gavin and I were in the car and he asked me for a mint.

I answered kindly, "Not today, Sweetie."

Gavin, testing out his independence and authority (which he of course has very little of but that doesn't stop him from trying), demanded, "But Mom!  I want a mint and you should give me one now!" 

I couldn't help but chuckle as I explained to him, "Gavin, even if I was going to give you a mint, that attitude and tone of voice wouldn't be the way to get it.  We aren't going to have a mint today."

"Mom?" he asked.

What, Sweetie?" I answered after taking an extra big breath.

"Please may I please have a mint?" he said with extra emphasis on the magic words he sprinkled in this time.

"I like the way you asked that time but the answer is still no." I replied.

"But, Mom!  I asked nicely!" he said through the tears and frustration.

That exchange continued for another minute or two, but this is where my mind wandered.  I started to think about how God, Our Father, must feel.  We are His children and we ask Him for stuff all the time.  We use our manners and ask nicely.  When Our Father, who really truly knows what we need and what we don't, doesn't grant our request or grant it in the time frame we had hoped, we are crushed.  We don't understand why he wouldn't just "give us a mint" or a baby, or whatever else we think would complete our lives in that moment.

While I could give Gavin a mint every single time he asked nicely, I could quite possibly have a 100 pound 4 year old with the best breath on the block, but that isn't doing him any favors.  When children look at their parents with pleading eyes, droopy lower lip, and furrowed brow, it is heartbreaking!  But knowing what is best for them in the long run makes it worthwhile.  I know God is doing the same for us. 

Being a parent is a hard job.  Even more so for God since we ask for miracles.  Gavin just asks for mints.  

Today, I had a rare opportunity to meet with a friend and have coffee.  What is even stranger is that neither of us had our kids with us.  What do two grown women talk about when they don't have their kids?  We talk about our kids of course.  We did talk about so other stuff since she is pregnant and she is aware of our struggles.  But mostly, we talked about the kids. 

We talked about their colds, treatments we used, sleep issues, and brainstormed for solutions.  I think we could have chatted for another 2 hours but since I had to pick up Gavin at noon, we made our way to our cars.  As we were saying our goodbyes, I thanked her for the nice morning.  I explained that Gavin is going through "some things" and sometimes he makes me want to rip his cute little face off.  Her reaction was one of disbelief.  Not that she thought that I would really rip of that adorable, back talking, nasty attitude, and disrespectful little face off, but because she thought I was a "perfect parent".  Oh look!  A unicorn!

She explained that she pictured me very calmly telling Gavin to go to time out and that he would turn and quietly retire to his bedroom where after a couple of minutes we probably dealt with the issue and then returned to our activities with smiles and rainbows in the background.  I don't know where she gets that idea because I could go on for hours about the daily struggles I have and would have a list a mile and a half long of all of the things I should have done differently.  Since it is rare that anyone ever volunteers the stories about poor parenting, I am going to. 

A couple of days ago I was trying to get Gavin dressed for preschool, write my grocery list, and clean up our breakfast mess.  Then, just as I am about to zip up Joey's jacket I catch a whiff.  He always seems to find the best times to poop.  As I am trying to get Joey's shoes back off and take his jacket back off, Gavin picks up a balloon and starts swinging it around.  It wasn't a big deal but as he was swinging it the kid thought bubble appeared above his head and I saw the words scrolling across saying, "I'm am thinking about hitting my brother with this balloon.  I think that would be fun right now." 

So, I did the preemptive, "Be sure not to hit your brother with the balloon."

The balloon continued to be swung and Gavin didn't so much as acknowledge the fact that I spoke.  So, again, I say, "Gavin.  Do not hit your brother with that balloon!" 

Then, that thought bubble appeared again.  This time it read, "Hmm... What if I don't actually hit him with the balloon and I just graze the side of his head?"  Just as those words appeared his actions made the words come to life.  The balloon grazed Joey's head.  I was frantically trying to get us all out the door and I was so annoyed that Gavin was complicating things.  So, in an effort to make that issue disappear, I reached out with one hand, grabbed the balloon in my hand, and like a very mean clown, I popped that sucker with my fingers.  Not my finest moment. 

Any other "perfect parents" want to share their less than stellar mom moments?  




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I have a really bad habit of losing my train of thought when I am in the middle of a story. It can be an exciting, fun, even thought provoking story and I notice something that causes my mind to wander. Then, it is simply gone. I'll ask Doug, "What was I saying?" His typical response, regardless of where I was in my story is, "I think you'd finished." I the follow that up with, "If you were really listening then you would know what I was talking about." This happens at least 3 times a week. At least.

I would like to think that I don't have attention issues. I might be in denial but really this post isn't really about my attention issues. It is about the attention issues of our children. Well, I say issues but what I should really say is our expectations. So many children are being diagnosed with ADD or ADHD these days that it makes me wonder what has changed. It think that over the course of the last century, the lifestyles and expectations of our children has changed dramatically.

One hundred years ago young children had responsibilities that involved being active. They had to help outside gardening, farming, tending to their backyard animals. If they had already done the work at their own home, they were sent walking to the elderly neighbors (probably closer to a mile away than next door) to help them do what ever they were needed to do there. Of course, on the way they probably climbed trees, splashed in puddles, and caught a couple of frogs. Then after a long day of activities they would eat dinner, help clean up, do a couple more household responsibilities, wash off the layer of accumulated dirt, then turn in for the night.

Today, children are expected to sit. Sit for a while longer. Then after they are done sitting they can play quietly for a while. They wake up and sit at the table to eat. Then they are strapped into a car seat to sit on their way to daycare where they sit in circles to learn, sit in their chairs for lunch, then sit in the teacher's lap to read a book. They might get some time to go out and play for a while but if it is raining or cold then they get to sit and play indoor games. Then back home they go to sit down for dinner, sit in front of the TV, computer, video game system, then sit in the tub for bath time. Whew! They must be exhausted from all that sitting so we should turn off the lights and go to sleep.

No wonder so many children are being diagnosed with ADD/ADHD. When are our kids supposed to run around, be active, get muddy? When are they supposed to get sweaty, smelly, and find creepy crawly bugs? In 20 minute spurts that happen a few times a week? I think that so many of us have been taught to expect our children to be well behaved little adults that when they want to burn off some energy we view it as an "disorder". When I was teaching, I was being handed evaluations for students as young as 5 years old to determine if they had ADD/ADHD. I filled them out as accurately as I could but I really wanted to write, "Of course Little Johnny doesn't always follow directions. Of course he gets out of his seat 2-3 times an hour. And surely he doesn't focus on his work for more than 5 minute intervals. HE IS FIVE! I am 25 (at the time) and I don't always remember to do what I was asked to do. I get up from my desk 10 times during an hour. I can't remember what I was saying after getting distracted by a pretty bird flying by the window. Why are we expecting little people to have better attention spans than adults?"

Let's let our little ones get outside and "misbehave". Let's let them get dirty, smelly, and touch things that give us the shivers. They should be nice little people but not miniature adults. Let them pay attention to 100 things in 100 minutes and learn 100 things. That is not a disorder, that is what being a child is all about.

I made mention of the "light turning green" in the Happy Fertilizer Day! post and thought I should go into a bit more detail about this awesome little find. When Gavin was a baby he was a fantastic sleeper. He fell asleep on his own. He rarely woke during the night without being able to fall back asleep. He also would sleep in until 8:30 and sometimes 9:00 in the morning after sleeping 12-13 hours. Then he would nap 2-3 hours every afternoon. I was in heaven!

Last October I was in for a rude awakening! My dreamy sleeper showed me what life with a real kid is like. Gavin started waking to go potty almost every night. Then after his trip to the bathroom, he wanted to get up for the day. We would talk to him and explain that we had to go back to sleep until the sun woke up. He would reluctantly oblige. Then at about 5:00am he would start shouting that it was time to get up. Again we would tell him that to wait until the sun woke up. This happened every single morning. So, I was in the market for some way to help Gavin understand when it was time to get up and when it was still time to hang out in Sleepytown.

I found the Teach Me Time! Talking Alarm Clock and Nightlight. It was exactly what I was looking for. I ordered it and as soon as it arrived home I programmed it and set it up in his room. I set the clock to turn from yellow/orange at night to green at 7:00 am. Then, I showed the clock to Gavin and told him that, just like a traffic light, the light would turn green and then he could get out of bed. That day and frequently until bedtime, we talked about the light turning green and how the sun will be getting up at that time too! Then the next morning, although I heard Gavin wake up before hand, at precisely 7:00am, Gavin announced, "The light turned green! It is time to get up!"

Sweet victory! Gavin learned very quickly about when to wake up in the morning. The only issue that we are facing now is that when we taught him how to wait for the light to turn green I paired that with the sun waking up. I hadn't thought about the repercussions of daylight savings time back in October. So, now that the sun is waking up at 6:00am, so is Gavin.

I love this clock and blame myself for the green light not working for us right now. I am working on teaching Gavin that the sun wakes up very early now and that we get to sleep for a while while the sun is warming things up for us. I think that with time, we'll be back to a normal wake time.

If you are looking for a way to catch just a few more Z's with a super early riser, I recommend giving this clock a try. It also has games that can be played to help kids learn how to tell time and a button that will read the time aloud. I liked it so much that I bought a second clock for my parents house since Gavin spends the night there when we get to have a date night. I hope it works for you, too!

I don't know why I thought that taking Gavin along with me to Joey's 9 month check-up would be a good idea. It is stressful enough to manage a naked, antsy, teething, poop machine on a paper lined table and then, I go an add a 3 year old to the mix. I decided that I was going to use one of the few "golden ticket" items in my arsenal to ensure good behavior. Dangling chocolate milk in front of Gavin is like dangling a pint of Chubby Hubby Ice Cream in front of me. With only a couple of reminders Gavin did fairly well. Well, behavior wise he did well. I decided to use Gavin to help me keep Joey entertained as we waited for the doctor. I instructed Gavin to stand in front of Joey and play peek-a-boo by peeking up from underneath the exam table. Great idea, right? Not so much. Gavin popped up and down a couple of times and Joey smiled and laughed. Then Gavin popped up too close to the table and hit his face on the table. He screamed and cried and I thought for sure that a nurse would be coming in to check on us but no one came. I was thankful since Gavin was really okay and just startled.

Then as the tears slowed down, I noticed the international sign of "I have to go potty". Almost at the same moment as me noticing the pee-pee dance, he tells me he has to go potty. So I venture out with Joey draped over my arm in search of the bathroom. I find someone who points me in the right direction and thankfully it isn't far. Today, for whatever reason, he decided he wanted to stand to pee. This was fine with me but I wasn't sure how good his aim was and didn't want to discover it was bad in a pediatrician's bathroom. So I helped him aim. Again, Joey draped uncomfortably over one arm and me pointing Gavin in the right direction with the other hand. About 10 seconds later and Gavin still hadn't started peeing he changed his mind about standing up to pee which was welcome news since I didn't think I could continue the balancing act for much longer. Gavin turned, sat on the potty, and held himself in the right direction just as he does at home. I never heard any pee hit the water so I was surprised when he announced he was done.

"Oh? You are done already? Are you sure?"

"Yep! I'm all done!"

Then he stood up and then my worst nightmare had come true. There was pee all over the back of his pants and underwear. He hadn't held himself down far enough and just peed all over the back of his clothes. Seriously?! I got Gavin back into the exam room with my arm about to fall off from the tremendous weight of Joey. I confirmed what I already knew. I didn't have any extra clothes with me for Gavin. So, I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I can't be the first mom in the world to find myself with a wet kid and no clothes. I may not win Mom of the Year but I can't be the worst mom ever. I found some comfort in that. I gave him Joey's blanket to cover up with.

A few minutes later, the doctor knocks on the door and comes in. He does his typical greeting and hellos and then looks at Gavin and asks him what's wrong. I offer the abridged version of the previous 15 minutes events. As I am explaining the saga, I look over my shoulder at Gavin in the chair and notice that his nose is bleeding. Wow. Now I have a cold, naked, uncomfortable baby along with a crying, wet, bloody 3 year old.

Ahhh... The joys of motherhood! I am thankful for every story I get to tell like this. I love the fact that my life never has a dull moment anymore. I love that every day ends with a funny story or a funny thing that one of the kids did or said. I thank God for every day I have with my family. Each day is a gift even if sometimes it feels like a gag gift!

"Mom?"
"What?"
"Mom?"
"What, Honey?"
"Mom?"
"Gavin, I said 'what' twice already. What do you need?"
"Oh. Okay mom. Uh.... Mom?"



"I'm done resting, mom. Can I get up?"
"Not yet honey. It has only been 5 minutes."
"But I'm not tired. I want to get up."
"I'll let you know when it is time to get up."
"Okay. How 'bout now?"
"Gavin. Honey. Get some rest okay."
"How 'bout now? How 'bout now? How 'bout now?"



While I could probably come up with about 15 examples of times where Gavin has made me want to pull out my hair, he always manages to make it all worth while. Yesterday, I was coming home from the grocery store. As I pulled up to the house, I see Doug sitting in the front yard with Gavin sitting on his lap. Gavin's eyes peeked around his hood and without seeing his mouth I knew he was smiling. In his little hand was the most beautiful bouquet of dandelions spilling over the top of his hand. I took an extra second to park the car because I had to take a mental photograph of that adorable image. After the car was parked, Gavin stood up and ran over to me and says, "Mommy! I picked these just for you!" Doug told me that as Gavin picked the dandelions he said, "Mommy will think these are the most beautiful flowers!" In that one moment, he reminded me why I love being a mom.

I read a story a while back about a mother who committed suicide in the bathroom of her home. She intentionally overdosed on prescription medication by swallowing not just a few extra pills but an entire prescription bottle full of pills. She was found when a neighbor heard a baby crying in the house for an extended period of time. The neighbor went over and found the baby tear stained and exhausted in his crib and the mother dead in the bathroom.

When I first read this story I was just so sad. Sad for the mom that she was so depressed. Then, so sad for the baby boy who was left without his mommy. But after just a few minutes my sadness turned to anger. Let's just put aside the fact that she was leaving her little boy without a mom for the rest of his life but she knowingly and intentionally committed suicide with her baby in the house, in the crib, alone, scared, with no one to protect him.

After getting over the initial shock and anger I started to wonder about that poor kids life. How he will alway be missing an important piece of his life by not having his mom. He will likely have a life of sadness, confusion, depression, and an overall lack of direction. We wouldn't ever do this to our kids. Or would we?

I have heard so many people talk about how they are going to raise their children and then when they are old enough, the kids can choose what they want to believe in when it comes to God. I don't think this would be that bad if the parents were really teaching them about God. But most of the parents that I hear say this aren't exactly church goers or readers of the bible. They are just as clueless as the kids are, and they are going to leave the decision up to the kids because, well, honestly, they don't have a clue what they believe so how can they tell their kids what to believe.

I think these parents are laying in a bathtub full of water with a hand full of pills, a glass of water, and a crying baby in the crib. That baby doesn't know what is going on. If that parent follows through and swallows those pills, leaving the child to decide for themselves if they believe in God with no guidance from their parents, then the parents are sentencing their child to a life of sadness, confusion, depression, and an overall lack of direction.

Let's not do this to our children. Let's teach our children about God. Teach them about who He is and how powerful He is. If AFTER we teach them all there is to know about Him and then they choose to not believe in Him then, as parents, we have done all that we can do. But, please, don't expect them to learn all there is to know about God on their own, in a crib, alone, scared, with no one to protect them. God gave us these wonderful little people to hug, love, and call our own. Let's teach them about who sent them to us.

Since Gavin has been able to talk he has been a funny kid. I used to try to keep track of what I like to call his "Gavin-isms". But, there seems to be new ones every single day. So, today, I am just going to share a few of my favorites.

This fall, with Joey showing up on the scene, we spent a lot of time lounging around the house. Therefore, Gavin was forced to listening to a lot of Doug and I having typical conversations. When Gavin needs to spend a few minutes on the potty (read poop) he loves to have a captive audience. He want to "talk about some things." Most days he just rambles on, smooshing together bits of songs, books, TV shows, and whatever else he has been exposed to that day and tells a story that no one understands. Not even him. One evening, while at my parents house Gavin announces that he needs to go potty. I think he was disappointed that he didn't have someone standing in the bathroom listening to him so he calls out and says, "Nana?! Nana!? I need to talk to you about something! I need to talk to you about propaganda!" Apparently Gavin listens very attentively to our conversations!



A few months later, as Gavin was starting to really warm up to the idea of having a brother, he came up with an idea that I should leave for the day and leave Joey home with him.

Me: Are you going to take care of your baby brother?

Him: Yep!

Me: Are you going to change his diapers?

Him: Yep!

Me: Even if he poops?

Him: Uh-huh!

Me: Are you going to feed him if he gets hungry?

He looks at me and pulls his shirt up to his neck and asks, "Do I have breasts?"

And finally, the most recent Gavin-ism was just yesterday. Gavin was sitting at the kitchen table and eating breakfast. I was sitting across the room feeding Joey. Gavin asks me something but I can only make out a couple of the words through the cheerios in his mouth so I say, "What, honey?"

He asks again, "Mom, where did ____ go?"

Since I still couldn't tell what he was asking about I say, "Where did what go honey?"

Gavin, exasperated with my apparent inattentiveness, "I am talking about your husband! Where did Dad go?"

While he has said a ton more funny things, many of them would not be nice to put out into cyberspace for his future wife to find. Those, I would rather tell her at her bridal shower.

This morning at about 6:00 am, I am awakened by Gavin coughing. While I almost hate to admit this, my first thought was, "Shhh. Please. Shhhh. You are going to wake Joey." When it continued, I again thought to myself, "Shhhh. C'mon! What are you doing?! You never cough. Are you trying to wake everyone up?" Then, Gavin calls out, "I have to go potty." He had a really sad and painful sound to his voice but I thought that since Doug just got home from a business trip last night, that Gavin was just really eager for some daddy time. Doug got up to take him to the bathroom.

I laid in bed willing my bedroom door closed. It didn't work. I heard the bathroom door opening and closing. Repeatedly. I heard footsteps. Then the bathroom door again. Then the shower. I was slightly perturbed that Doug was making so much noise. Amazingly, Joey slept through it all. Thank goodness. Then I drifted back to sleep. I am awakened by Doug telling me that Gavin had spent the whole morning throwing up. He threw up all over his bed (Oh.. so that was the coughing!).
Gavin had no fever. When I asked him how he felt, he said, "I feel good, Mommy." A few minutes later he starts coughing and back to the bathroom we go. I decided that today would be a good lay on the couch and watch a movie, read some books kind of day. Halfway through the movie my dad stopped by to visit and check on the sick-o. After a few books, Gavin is wanting a snack and wants to play. Everything is now back to normal. All very weird.

Gavin has always been a very healthy kid. Almost freakishly healthy. He has never been to the doctor for any reason other than a check-up. He has had the sniffles twice but never needed any medicine to recover. He had one other episode of vomiting but much like today, never had a fever and was fine within 6 hours.

But the reason I am sharing all of this is not to gross you all out with puke stories but to share this. It is so disgusting to be sick. There is nothing attractive about vomiting. And while I certainly didn't enjoy seeing what I saw this morning, I was not grossed out in the least. Well... small fib. I was a little grossed out at one point but, while sparing the gory details, it involved my bare feet and Gavin not quite hitting the mark. I know people always tell you it is different when it is your own kids but it is so true. I prefer not to have sick days but taking care of my sick little one is just one of the many joys of being a mom.

I know that this might be a controversial post. I am not trying to offend anyone. Please feel free to comment and share your thoughts with me. Even if they aren't similar.

Ever since I told friends and family that I planned to stay home with my children (whenever they came into the picture) I heard one of two things. Either I was commended for choosing to stay home and raise my children, or, usually from other mothers or mothers to be, I would hear how they wished they could stay home with their children but they have to work due to financial reasons. I always bite my tongue when I hear the latter.

What financial reasons? I would argue that it is cheaper to stay home. I save the money on gas, childcare, and work attire. It's true. I own one pair of high heels. I wore them once. I spend most every day in either sweatpants, jeans, or sometimes, pajamas. I would never win any fashion contest. I have used the same jeans and sweaters for 5 years. My children wear hand-me-downs from their older cousins. They don't have picturesque bedrooms. They have a place to sleep, a place for clothes, and a place to sit. Don't get me wrong. They aren't slumming it but while I would love to have window seats and bookshelves from Pottery Barn Kids, they have $10.00 bookshelves from Walmart. They serve the intended purpose. We don't go on cruises, get manicures, or drive luxury automobiles. Our big date nights usually include doing our grocery shopping and picking up some Chinese carry-out. We can food, bake bread, make pasta, and have a garden to save money. We do what we need to do in order to make it possible for me to stay home.

Being a mom is the best job in the world and I wouldn't have it any other way. I love knowing that I am the person raising my children every hour of every day. So,
when those moms say that they have to work, I don't want to offend them but I think they have their priorities misaligned. I would much rather clip coupons, vacation on my living room floor with a movie, hunt for bargains and sales, wear 6 year old sweat pants, and be a good parent for the rest of my life. I don't doubt that working moms love their children. I just think that moms belong at home. Money is not a good enough excuse for not parenting your children. All day. Every day.

As much as I want to have a large family, I find myself wondering about how on Earth I will survive when I have another child(ren) to care for. I am just now starting to get good sleep on a routine basis again. Joey hasn't yet started crawling, cruising, and causing general mayhem but I know it isn't going to be long. While Gavin is starting to become more independent in his play, he is also upping the ante on limit testing. This is, of course, requiring more patience and time on my part. And on top of caring for the boys, I need to prepare meals, do laundry, and maintain livable status on housework. So, while I know I want more kids, I still find myself thinking about how I might be a little crazy to think I can spread myself any thinner.

Amidst this internal discussion of how many children will I be able to care for I start to wonder about parents, particularly mothers, who "know" when they are done having children. I guess there is a chance that I will, one day, wake up and know that I am "done" but right now that just seems like such a drastic conclusion to come to. Isn't it God who decides when we are "done" having children? Didn't he design our bodies to stop producing eggs when we are done having children? I just can't fathom ever being so sure that I didn't want any more babies that I would be willing to subject my body to a surgery to ensure that I wouldn't have any more children. On top of laying down for surgery, I would have to willingly admit that I am intentionally circumventing God's plan. To me, that would be like saying, "Thanks, God, for giving me two arms to use and enjoy over the years, but I am going to have one amputated since I'm done with it. It just doesn't make sense to me. Why would I want to change anything about my body that God created to perform such awesome miracles, like growing a human, and intentionally breaking it so that I can no longer experience God's greatest gifts. I just can't understand this.

I know that both times I have seen my OB/GYN for my postpartum visit she has asked me what type of birth control pills I want to take.

I tell her, "None."

"Oh, so you are going to use condoms, then?"

"Nope. I am going to be breastfeeding so I know it is unlikely for me to ovulate while I am doing that." I explain.

"Uh, okay. But you realize that you could get pregnant even while breastfeeding."

"Yep!" I reply, perhaps with a bit too much enthusiasm.

I don't get into the discussion with her about this but, just like getting a hysterectomy, preventing a possible pregnancy is really trying to take God out of the equation. He is our creator, not a player on my team that I can decide to bench when I don't want his opinion. I feel like I need to always keep my focus on Him and let him be the leader especially when it comes to my fertility.

I have to put my faith in God that he knows what I can handle and when I can handle it. It is tough since I want so much to control everything in my life right down to wanting very much to have an Autumn baby. I have to tell myself over and over that what I want and what I need are very different and God is only going to give me what I need. This might be a very long cold winter with no pregnancy and will need to keep praying for God's will. In the mean time, I am going to enjoy every single second of my children that are here and creating future children. And many years from now, when I feel like I am tapped out and couldn't possibly even entertain the thought of adding to my family, God will make the decision of me being "done". Until then, bring on the babies!!!

Over the past few years I have heard several stories about parents, who, in some capacity, support their little boys dressing like little girls. Every time this topic comes up I really wish that I could take their mom into a dark alley and offer her a cup of coffee and a tongue lashing. No matter how many times I hear them explain how they came to the decision that it was okay for their young child to cross dress I am still utterly baffled.

It is our job as parents to lead, teach, guide, and support our children on their path of life and this is just one example of many where many children today are allowed to make adult decisions and the parents stand back and say, "Well, I want my child to like me. I know it isn't the best decision but what is wrong with my kid being happy?" I hate to be the master of the obvious but kids aren't that smart. They aren't thinking about anything other than immediate gratification. It is our job as parents to make the decisions that keep them safe and healthy. If happiness can also be made a part of that equation while not jeopardizing their health and safety, then great.
When a young boy wants to wear a dress around the house, eh, okay. Probably not my preference as a parent of two boys, but I am not going to make it into anything larger than it is. When my 3 year old tells me that his crayon pouch is his "purse", again, not a big deal. When he wants to wear a dress to the grocery store and carry a purse, that is where it is our job as parents to model for him appropriate gender roles and explain that, "Ladies wear dresses, honey. Boys get to wear pants. And mommies (or women) use purses. Boys use wallets to carry money. Maybe Daddy has an extra wallet he can show you how to use!" Issue over. If it is brought up again, same explanation. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Now I know that the moms of the boys dressing like girls would say, "But it wasn't like that! He was heartbroken when I said no to the pink tutu. He was really devastated!" Over that cup of coffee, this would be my alternative scenario. What if your son wanted to wear a Barney the Dinosaur costume? Not just around the house but everywhere. To school everyday. To the mall. To grandma's house. Would this be okay? My guess is that most people would say that it isn't appropriate to wear a Halloween costume everyday. What about if you had a little girl who wanted to wear a bathing suit to school... in Ohio.... in February.... I don't think any parent with any common sense would hesitate to say, "No Way!" I don't see how this is any different. Regardless of what kind of tantrum, tears, and heartbreak would follow the answer would still be no.

I just wish that parents weren't so concerned about their kids liking them. If they like us all the time then we are not doing our job. I am not saying that we need to be mean or abusive but our kids deserve (and actually want and need) to have limits and boundaries set for them. We are responsible for molding their behavior and actions to be appropriate for our world. It isn't appropriate for our boys to go into Target dressed like a dinosaur. Our daughters won't wear bikinis to WalMart in winter (or ever!). And when our young men want to wear a sundress to the grocery store, the answer should always be no. They might cry now but when they are well adjusted adults they will thank us for not allowing them to look like fools in public.

Shortly after finding out that I was pregnant with Joey I realized that if there were going to be any major changes going on in Gavin's life it was time to get them underway long before the baby came. First we started with the "big boy bed". He hadn't ever tried to get out of his crib but since we were planning on using it for Joey, it was time for bigger and better things for Gavin. That was a remarkably easy transition for all of us. Thank goodness!!! One major change down. One to go. It was time to go potty.

A number of moms on various on-line locations had made reference to the 3 Day Potty Training Method. From reading comments I had a vague understanding of the premise of this method and thought, "Why not? It can't be that hard if everyone is doing it." So, after checking out the site, I ordered the E-Book. A few weeks later, after Gavin turned 2 I decided it was time to read the book and bite the bullet. That Sunday night I read the E-book, which is a really easy read, with every intention of starting the next morning. I really should have read the book a few times in the days leading up to our start date but, I had already made up my mind that Monday was "the" day. No more diapers for us.

On Monday morning I followed the books directions to a T. Perhaps I should say to a "P"ee because I think Gavin must have peed 30 times and not one time did a single drop touch a potty. I knew that it was to be expected since I hadn't really even attempted to get him on a potty in the past but, sheesh. This was not going well. On Tuesday, I had a new lease on the potty training situation and was feeling confident that it could only get better. By Tuesday night it had gotten better but only slightly. Very slightly. It had become a battle of wills. I knew this was in direct violation of the book's directions but I just knew that he had to go potty but he didn't want anything to do with sitting on it until the dribble would start. Then the dribble would be promptly followed by a scream and before I could say, "OK", he would be standing in a puddle screaming and crying. I, wanting to avoid this situation, would try to make him sit on the potty which only led to more screaming and crying. After Gavin had gone to bed, I turned to Doug and just started crying. Not just a tear or two, but full fledged sobbing, complete with a snotty nose. I explained that I just didn't think I could do it anymore. I couldn't put Gavin through it. I couldn't put myself through it. It just was too early for Gavin to be potty trained. Doug, in his always rational and soothing manner, reminded me that the book is called the 3 day method. If it was supposed to work in 2 days they would have called it that. He also reminded me that the book says that some kids get it on day three and some it may take a few extra days to get it completely. I agreed to give it the third day before throwing in the towel.

On Wednesday it was like I had a new kid. I am not exaggerating. It was like I put him to bed as a frustrated, confused, diaper wanting toddler and when he woke up a light bulb had switched on. The day wasn't without a few accidents but he was totally understanding what we were doing. I suddenly felt less like I was doing something to him and more like I was helping him with something.

I can honestly say that since Day 4 to the present I can probably count the number of accidents he has had on one hand. And now, just shy of his 3rd birthday, he is nearly independent in the bathroom. He does still need help with wiping and if his pants have a snap but all in all, he was potty trained in 3 days! Next to natural child birth, this may have been one of the toughest things I have ever done but it was so worth it in the end!!!

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