Silly Complex's

Motherhood brings on a lot of unexpected things. I think some of the most unexpected things for me are those silly little thoughts and complex's. What's most interesting is, when faced with certain situations, you feel things that you never dreamed you would. For example when we were faced with unemployment a couple Christmas' ago, and needed insurance because of our upcoming bundle of joy, we talked about my husband enlisting in the army. I, of course, felt the expected things like nerves, being anxious and wondering if I could handle being an Army Wife. But, along with that, came a feeling that people might think I was selfish to risk my husbands life just so we could have money and benefits. I don't know why I felt that way. I certainly don't think that of any woman I know who's husband has joined the army. I mostly just admire them and their strength. But still I felt it, and I never expected it.

I can't say I ever expected wanting to be pregnant-- and I mean ever. Nor did I expect wanting another baby so soon after having twins. But here I am with three kids, 18 months apart. It's not something I would recommend, but I have to say I personally like it.

Now that I have been pregnant it's hard to go back to those days of simply having a monthly cycle. Now so many mixed emotions have to come with my monthly gift. Even now, when I may be on my way to thinking of another baby but certainly not ready for another pregnancy, I find every month I'm anxious to know if that lovely thing will show it's face. It doesn't help that the symptoms are the same. I get moody, thirsty, my chest swells a little, tired, etc. These signs show their face and I start calculating when my last period was. I'm usually a week away. Then the tension starts.

"Is it going to come? Do I want it to come? Will I be happy or sad if it comes?" These are the questions I always ask myself.

Usually it's right on time. I can handle that. I know it isn't our time to be pregnant and I'm OK with that. But then there are the months that it's a little late.

"Just take a test," my husband says.

I hate taking the tests. I don't like to take them unless I'm 95% sure they will say yes. I don't know why. I'm really not ready for another pregnancy. But even so, it's the same now as it was right after I had the last one, I don't like to see the negative result on that test.

This happened this month. I finally decided to take the test. I was pretty late. Seconds after the test read negative my monthly gift showed up. I mean really. Does taking the test somehow trigger it? Not only did I waste the money, but I wasted emotional stress.

Sometimes I wonder if I feel this way because my moodiness and tiredness being linked to bringing another miracle in this world would at least bring about a greater sense of worth.

It's bad enough that each month I have to face the fact that my emotional outbursts have no merit, but I've also been struggling with being a little backed up lately and this brings on another whole set of fun complex's. Realization of this problem came about when it got so severe one morning I visited the emergency room. Ever since I've really had to watch my diet and try to take in a lot of fiber. The problem is no fun, and one of the most embarrassing things I've had to deal with yet. But that's not the worst part. Along with it comes nausea, aches in my hips and back, hot flashes and movements in my tummy. This makes the problem itself much more difficult to face. Feeling pregnant is so much easier to handle when it's about bringing a child into the world-- not about being unable to go to the bathroom.

Another complex I'm facing lately might seem a little strange to some. I have three beautiful boys. And I mean beautiful. I know this sounds like bragging but my motherly adoration's have been confirmed on several occasions. My OB commented on the twins all the time. He even said they could date his daughter. All of my boys have been mistaken for girls on several occasions. And I get told a lot that they should be in a magazine.

My youngest one in particular is one of the most beautiful babies you've ever seen. I used to look at him when he was a newborn and just think, "You are so nice to look at. I could just look at you for hours."

He has fair skin, blue eyes and blonde hair. He gets mistaken for a girl even more than his brothers did. The problem with this is that he was supposed to be my girl. When I got pregnant with him I just knew I was going to have a girl. OK maybe I didn't know it would be a girl, but another boy just didn't sound right. When I found out he was a boy my heart dropped. Not simply because he was a boy, but because I felt I had lost my girl. When we finally met him last September I just looked at him and thought, "I'm glad you're here. And I'm glad you're not a girl, but it was just so hard to get you here. Couldn't you have brought a sister with you?"



I don't spend my days wishing he was a girl. There were very colicky times when I may have wished I hadn't had that crazy idea to get pregnant. But I honestly don't wish him to be a girl. But still when he's mistaken for one my heart sinks a little. Here these people think I have two boys and a girl when really I don't know what it's like to have a girl at all. To them I do, but I know I don't.

Sometimes I look at him and say, "You're just too pretty to be a boy."

I get a little sad again. Sometimes I find it hard to look at him. I know that sounds crazy but it's true. I guess it just reminds me that, pretty as he is, I still don't have a daughter and I may never have one.

We've had a rocky road this baby and I. When we first met I wasn't sure if he wanted to be a part of our family. We struggled through the first 3 months. Both hoping things would get better. I let his Dad take on a lot because I just didn't have the patience I needed for him. He wanted constant attention. He always wanted to be held, couldn't be left in a room alone and just seemed really needy compared to his brothers. I'm just not that type of mother. I like kids that can entertain themselves. That can be content while I get a little work done. I play with my kids, but we can all enjoy it more if I'm not thinking about all the stuff I need to get done. When we came out of the colicky and indigestion haze I found I had a son who was completely enthralled with his mother. How this happened? I do not know. But I'm glad because it helps me feel that I wasn't so terrible to him. Maybe there were moments of love and happiness. He some how came to feel safe and content with me amid all the screaming and crying. And that brings a little comfort to me.

I love all my boys. Most days I'm perfectly happy raising three gentlemen. Even if sometimes my silly little complex's say otherwise. I can't ignore them. It's probably not a good idea to smother them. I guess all I can do is just acknowledge them and try to figure out how I really feel.

Nursery Days

Our church has a nursery that the little kids enter when they are 18 months old. The kids play in there while the parents go to their other meetings. It sounds lovely right?22 Well, getting my kids to go to nursery was a huge trial. I cried over it several times. Almost every week I'd come home saying, "I'm not doing this anymore. They can just come to the meetings with me." I guess my situation was a bit more exhausting considering my husbands work schedule has him gone every Sunday. But still the transition to nursery is not a fun thing.



Growing up in the church I had known about the chaos that could ensue when children were first left alone in nursery or primary. The general rule, that my family always agreed worked best, was to just leave the kid crying or not. Chances are as soon as you left, the kid would calm down and all would be well.

This rule has worked well for me with babysitters. I just tell the sitters the plan, make sure they are OK with the idea and then execute. I usually come back to find all was well.

Well, this rule didn't work well with nursery. The boys would cry and cry until they finally came and got us.

The leaders told me that I needed to sit in nursery with them until they got more comfortable in there. I didn't like this idea. If I'm going to be in nursery than give me a nursery calling. I mostly didn't like it because I didn't know what the boundaries were. Should I help my kids? Is that what the leaders want? In my mind, having worked as an aide at a school, I'd prefer the parents to stand back and let me handle it. That way the kid learns to respond to me and not just the parents. But what if the leaders didn't agree. I also didn't know if I should just be a fly on the wall or if I should help with the other kids. The whole thing was a raging conflict that left me exhausted every week. This sort of thing is especially hard for a person obsessed with doing things the right way all the time, like me.



I tried to ask friends what they would recommend, or what they think was expected and they didn't know either. I told my mom about my frustrations and she said in so many words, "As long as you're in there with them they aren't going to learn to adjust. You need to be out of the room in order for them to get used to it. Otherwise you're going to be stuck in there." I agreed. But leaving them wasn't working. The leaders tried to find times for me to just sneak out. But this just added to the boys insecurities. Every time the door opened they would quickly scan the room. Sometimes I'd sit outside the room, in case there was a problem, and every time the door opened my boys would just cry. The sound of the door opening had become a trigger to them. It seemed to make them feel scared and it definitely upset them. I felt overwhelmed, exhausted and out of my league. I couldn't solve this problem.



Then one Sunday a neighbor put a thought into my head. She said that they would go in and sit with their kids and instead of sneaking out they would tell the child they were leaving, assure them they would be back and then they would walk out. This sounded like it could work. So I tried it. It didn't work great, but it worked better.

I then decided what we needed was a good routine. After all the solution to all other chaotic things in our lives was schedules and routines. Well if anything was chaotic nursery was. I would bound up the stairs, dragging the twins while holding a baby, a car seat and a diaper bag. I would them try to free one hand to open the door and shove the twins in. Binkies, toys, blankies? I didn't have time to check to see if they still had these in hand. Obviously this was part of our problem.

So I came up with a plan. First we would walk up to nursery calmly. We'd set our stuff down. I'd ask the twins to put their toys, blankies and binkies away. I would then talk to them about all the fun they would have in nursery and I would assure them I would be back to pick them up. Well we tried it one week. And it worked. I just had to talk to them until they were ready to walk in themselves. They did wonderfully in nursery. I was so happy and proud of my boys!

Of course, not all problems are solved. There were still weeks they wouldn't go. The leaders and others would try to help. But this would only make it worse. The boys would get nervous because they would think they were being forced to do something they didn't want to do. The leaders would ask me to come in with them, but I just thought, "I'm not stepping foot in that room again. I appreciate you trying to help but please just let me can handle this."

I'd shy off to a corner and try to talk to them and calm them down. When that didn't work I'd take them to class with me. I wouldn't give them snacks or toys-- they had to go to nursery to get those. And I would make them simply sit there and they weren't allowed to move. Everyone was impressed with how well behaved my children were. Little did they know I was actually upset with them. Finally they would get bored and then I could convince them to go to nursery.

Now the boys walk into nursery no problem. I can't always get their binkies away from them, but I don't complain. I'm glad we found our own little solution. I don't know why I expected anything else from my children. After all they have a defiant mother who doesn't like to be forced into things. The decision had to be there's. Thank goodness we figured that out. I think this will be a great stepping stone for all of us.

Welcome to Thomasville

It all started when we spent A Day Out With Thomas. Now every day is A Day Out With Thomas. Yes, we have a new obsession at our house. And if any of you have little boys I'm sure you've experienced it too.



The boys have realized the Thomas and Friends craze. And we have too.

Now don't get me wrong. I think it's a cute show. I like it more than other things that are out there. Especially the new ones that are computer animated-- I can understand liking these more than I can understand liking the model train ones, but that's only because when I was little I didn't like shows where the characters mouths didn't move. What I just don't get is what is it about this show that causes my kids to be completely and utterly obsessed. They eat sleep and breath Thomas. Every word that comes out of their mouths is either "Thomas" or "Grandma". You turn it on for them and for the next 30 minutes they'll yell in your ear, "It's Thomas!"

We need to get our hand on some Thomas toys so I can distract them with those every once in a while. We have one Thomas, that we inherited from a nephew, and I bet you can guess how well sharing that one Thomas between two obsessed kids went. Luckily the less obsessive one would be happy with one of the freight cars. We finally got another Thomas toy and I thought, "Great now they can each have a Thomas." I should have known better. My little twin has an obsessive personality-- just like his mom. He carried both Thomas' and when I asked him to give one to his brother he would say, "No, No, No!" Since both Thomas' were gifts from Grandma, and neither one was given a specific owner, I didn't feel bad insisting that he share.

I think the worst, or at least craziest, part of the Thomas obsession is how it affects me. I actually get excited when I hear the theme song. I now know the order of the engines number 1-8. I have my favorite episodes and my favorite characters. And the worst part, about being a parent with a child that has an obsession, is I want to buy them everything Thomas-- it used to be everything Cars. I just love how excited they get about it. It makes my day!

Well here's to hoping we survive the Thomas days. At the rate I'm going it looks like I'll have plenty of boys to live through it with.