I Knew I Was Wrong

I knew I was doing things wrong as a mommy the day I let this bother me and get me worked into a complete frenzy:

You see, we have a rule in my house.  Shoes are supposed to be placed in our shoe basket.  My father started this rule with the boys when we were living at his house, and let me tell you that it worked.  The kids listened to their Grumps.  Unfortunately they don't do the same for me.  

So this past week we're getting ready to go to school, and Ryan can only find one shoe.  I tell him that he should look close to where he found the first one because surely the second one would have to be close to that.  After all, who doesn't keep their shoes relatively close together?  Children don't that's who.    

We literally race around the house multiple times, and that other shoe is no where to be found.  I'm getting ticked off, which is just increasing the frantic feeling in all of us.  I should also mention that our boys only have one pair of shoes.  Yes, we're crazy or perhaps cheap like that.  

So the only choice we had was snow boots.  His pants hardly covered them up, and honestly he looked a little foolish.  And it was at this moment that I FAILED.  

I was angry.  I was mad that the kids had not listened about where to put the shoes AGAIN.  My mind was blown on how a shoe could be completely missing...and just one shoe.  I was upset thinking about what others would think of me for letting my child dress like this.  In my reaction and through all my worries, I was setting the example to make my son feel self-conscious.  That is NOT a feeling I want to breed into my children.  I had an opportunity to instill confidence.  I had an opportunity to teach a positive lesson, but instead I was too focused on the negative side of that missing shoe.  I made a mountain out of molehill and forgot that all my actions are teaching my children lessons.  As I dropped Ryan off at his school, still feeling worked up about him wearing those darn boots, I knew I had been wrong. 

While I'm not happy with my reaction in the moment, the only good thing about his missing shoe is that Pat and I have come up some ideas of positive reinforcement to help the kids learn their chores and follow the rules of the household.  I'll post more about this later.  

And if you are wondering where I finally found his shoe, it was inside the toy bucket that was in the cabinet in the family room.  We never would have found it in time for school no matter how hard we looked.  

Stop The Coughing

One of the worst things as a mom is listening to your child suffering and not being able to do anything to help him.  

Every time Ryan gets a cold it is ALWAYS accompanied by a terrible, dry, and unproductive cough.  It has been this way with him for as long as I can remember.  We've tried everything to help him--children's cough and cold, teaspoons of honey, nasal spray for post nasal drip, allergy medications, sleeping with a cup of water, you name it we've probably tried it.  We've also brought the issue up to doctor after doctor and we get no answers at all.  

I just feel so awful for my little boy.  The poor child coughs all night long and inevitably when there is a cold/cough plaguing him it means he will come to my bed at 5 a.m. every morning and wake the rest of us up.  I cannot blame him though; the poor boy just wants some comfort and relief.  

The amazing thing about Ryan though is no matter how little sleep he gets or how much coughing he does, he's always full of life.  Nothing can hold that boy down.  I don't think I know anyone with a bigger personality.  

I just wish motherhood came with the super power to cure ailments.  

And on that note, I must leave you with the joke my Dad would tell me about all this:

A funeral procession is going up a steep hill on main street when the door of the hearse flies open and the coffin falls out then speeds down main street into a pharmacy and crashes into the counter. The lids pops open and the deceased says to the astonished pharmacist, "You got anything to stop this coffin ?"

The Middle Child

Sometimes I worry about my middle child.  He's not the oldest or the youngest....but calling him the middle child just doesn't do him justice.  He's my Sean.

Sean is the second child in our family and the second boy.  Because he's only 22 months younger than Ryan, he and Ryan are often doing the same things.  As a result I feel like we often forget that our little Sean is younger.  He's only 3 years old, but because he is often included with Ryan we treat him like he is older.  That isn't always a bad thing, but I do worry that we may sometimes neglect his needs.  And the last thing I want to do is to rush any of my children to grow up.  

With each child you raise there are certain aspects of worry.  With Sean I worry that we won't show him enough how individual and special he is.  I fear that he doesn't get enough solo attention.    

He may be the second child and second boy, but he is so beloved.  He has such a sweet and affectionate nature to him.  He is smart and kind.  He has his daddy's temper and sweet tooth.  He is a loving brother to Ryan and Leah.  

While there are challenges to raising the middle child, there are some benefits too.  Sean is able to follow Ryan and learn from him, and he is also able to teach Leah.  Sean is able to relate to both his siblings.  Even though he is in the middle, just like the meat in a sandwich, he is so important and nothing would be the same without him.  

I strive to make sure I take enough time to show him how important he is.  He's my Sean, who just so happens to be the middle of the birth order, and I could not love him more.