Tag Archives: circus

Sacred Moments

“Its moments like these that remind me why I love motherhood.”

For you, maybe that statement is referring to the laughter coming from your kiddos’ rooms as they play together; maybe its the smile that lights up your baby’s face when he’s happy…

For me?  Bedtime.

There is NOTHING that quite reminds me how WONDERFUL peace and quiet is than right after the last kid is tucked in, lights have been turned out, and all the threats of torture and maiming have been put out there (in the event that they think getting out of bed is an option) and I have peace.

Wonderful, blissful, wine guzzling -*ahem, sorry*- wine SIPPING, peace.

Now, one might think that you can achieve this peace just as easily- maybe even more so- without  the aid of children, but I disagree.

What is happiness without sadness?  How can you know what happiness actually IS unless you have something to compare it to?

Having kids is like that person who is living in a construction zone- all day long, nothing but the sounds of chaos and ruckus- and then 5 p.m. comes…

…and bliss.

Sure, they were able to zone it out after a while, but it wasn’t until all the workers had gone home for the day that they understood what they had been missing all those LONG, mind numbing hours.

Having kids -boys- is a lot like that- more so, actually, because I don’t get sick days, paid holidays or vacation days, so I’m in -literally IN- the construction zone day in, day out, all year long.

And, yes, boys -IMO- are worse than girls. I’m sure there are lots of people who will try and disagree with me- point out the fact that I don’t have girls so how could I know?

Excuse me?  I AM a girl.  I was a tomboy, actually, so I know EXACTLY how bad it could get having a rambunctious tomboy.  I was a barbed-wire scaling, tree-climbing, dirt digging, sibling wrestling (WWF-style, thank you very much) girl…

…and my BOYS are worse.

So, when the lights are finally out, the last kiddo has closed his eyes, and I finally get my brain back, I’m able to truly give thanks.

Thank you, God, for 3 loud, obnoxious boys that were born without recognition of the term ‘inside voices’.

Thank you, God, for 2 boys that -while they have superb aim in certain Wii games and other outdoor sports- cannot pee IN the toilet.

Thanks, God, for 2 boys that think fighting is a sport and practice as if it could one day land them in the Olympics.

Thanks so much, God, for reminding me with every scream, whine, argument, complaint, and fight, that silence is sacred and should be cherished because morning- the waking hours- come much too quickly.

But thank you, God, most especially, for 8:30 p.m. for, without it, I would not have the brain cells enough to even remember my name, much less, give thanks.

Hey! Its a circus!

They fly through the air with the greatest of ease- that daring young man on the flying trapeze.
Some people might think that old song is about a circus performer; those of us that have boys, know better.
Today I spent a good portion of my day running all over the house trying to keep my boys from killing themselves through a series of death defying feats and wrestling matches. Sure, head trauma SOUNDS like a great time, but its all well and fine until you get the hospital bill.
For the most part, I’ve grown accustomed to the many daring actions my sons have performed over the years. When I hear crying now, my response is usually, “Who did what?”, and I will rarely make my way to the scene of the crime, insisting that -unless legs have been broken or they have a sucking chest wound- they need to come to me because I wasn’t the one who decided to jump off the top bunk; jump off the dresser; get their hand stuck in the crib bars; etc. I’ve gotten wiser in my old age- unless I’m looking to increase my activity level, running to them for every cry will do nothing except cause me to lose patience and breath.
Please don’t take anything I say the wrong way; I actually LOVE having boys. Do you know how many parents take a CPR certification class and NEVER get the chance to perfect their skills? And I got to not only perform CPR, but the Heimlich as well- all in one week in my first 2 years as a mom! I have learned that most head wounds- though messy- are not always serious; I’ve also learned the different types of bugs that are okay to eat (FYI- pill bugs are perfectly safe and great “pre-munching” entertainment!).
Maybe I’m sick and twisted (very likely), but I find it amusing to watch the faces of new moms as they stare intently at their toddler boys at the park. They don’t want to be “helicopter moms”, hovering closely and suffocating their sons’ experiences, but fear keeps them from sitting down and relaxing. So, they stand there, rocking back and forth, waiting, ready to sprint like Superman the moment Jr. starts to take a tumble. The problem is, I learned long ago that you’ll never reach them in time, and the fear on your face will cause them to scream bloody murder even if they aren’t hurt. The best approach, I’ve found, is the “ignorance is bliss” approach. Its a kind of “If a child falls on the play ground, but no mommy is around to hear him scream, does he make a sound?” approach. Its all very Zen.
After having boys, I also don’t worry about germs as much anymore. Sure, there are some instances where a good hand-washing is in order; and I will NEVER allow the 5 second rule at a truck stop; but I’ve seen Jacob crawl under chairs at a doctor’s office and come out chewing on something- after that, you kind of stop worrying about keeping them “germ free”. When your child says, “Look what I found, Mom!” as they’re leaving a park restroom -don’t ask- the least of your worries should be shopping cart handles.