FAQ

Some frequently asked questions that I have been confronted with, since having our third child.  Please read, and stop asking me.  (just kidding, every time somebody asks me these questions, I have the opportunity to respond with a new smart-alec answer.  This gives me immense joy. As you were.)

Q: "You know how that happens (referring to getting pregnant), right?"
A: Yes.  For the love, yes.  Please stop making uncomfortable references about S-E-X to me.  I've noticed the pattern.  I was known to get distracted every once and awhile in biology class (alright, daily...), but I have figured that out.  And no, it's not cool to make my face turn bright red.  Stop it.  

Q: "Are you going to have anymore kids?  You've gotta be done. "
A: Nosy, nosy bastards.  We think we are done, but we've recently become acutely aware that we are not in charge of our lives.  Therefore, we're just along for the ride.  We have not closed the door, but if we had another child, he or she would have to sleep outside because we are out of space....both literally and figuratively. (And yes, I realize that doesn't make sense....but what I really mean is that there is no space in my brain left for intelligence, and that seemed to communicate that quite nicely.)

Q: "Why do you continuously talk about fecal stuff, vomit and potty training?  That is so nasty."
A: I know, right?  The answer to this is actually very simple.  It's because when you become a mother, it turns out that you actually don't morph into a crazy weird person, like it seems.  I'm the same girl I've always been...I just have a bunch of small persons looking at me when they have a bowel movement like I'm supposed to do something about it.  It's as odd to me today as it was 4 years ago.  When I'm wiping a baby down from head to toe because her diaper did not meet expectations, I must speak about it.  I have a feeling that you would too.  Unfortunately, it happens to me ALL THE TIME.  I actually contain myself 98% of the time.  You are welcome. 

Q: "Aren't you a mental health counselor for kids?  Why is that kid throwing a tantrum on the floor of the supermarket?"
A: Yep, I am.  I've actually had the audacity to coach people on parenting.  That's hysterical.  In my defense, I did it before I had three kids, when I actually had some sort of method to the madness.  I was a complete idiot.  It turns out that being a parenting coach only helps you know exactly when you did something wrong.  My kid is throwing a tantrum because he thinks grocery stores are only for chocolate milk and I just told him we weren't buying any.  He likes to communicate by throwing his body on the floor to see if I'll bend.  It's like playing chicken.  Don't worry, I'm not bending.  Unfortunately for him, I'm not easily embarrassed in front of strangers.  He'll stop screaming eventually. 

Q: Did you mean to have them so close in age?
A: When Chris and I first started talking about kids, we wanted three children, 2 years apart.  We even talked about a plan for when to have them.  However, after we had the first child, I thought "Oh man.  I'm never doing that ever again.  That was horrible."  Turns out we had three children, 2 years apart, exactly as we had planned.  I'm not sure how that happened.  Wait...don't ask me if I know how it happens.  See the first question. 

Q: Why do you look all weird and unstable?
A:  Okay, in all honesty nobody ever asks this question out loud.  However, I wanted to address it because it's true.  There are a couple compounding factors here.  First off, recently I've been showing signs of an allergy and I don't actually have time to figure out what it is.  I never thought I'd get to this point, but I literally don't have enough time to figure out what is wrong with me.  So I have allergies, and it's irrelevant in my life.  Second, I almost always am loading kids into the car in my pajamas.  I don't know how this happens to me...it's one of the reasons that I'm always late.  We are leaving the house, I look down and realize that I forgot to get myself ready.  I run back in the house and throw myself together.  In general, "throwing myself together" almost always results in looking unstable.  The red, itchy eyes aren't really helping that.  And thirdly, essentially what you see is what you get.  Weird and unstable. 

Q: Do you like staying home with them?

A: Yes.  No.  Yes I do.  Seriously, no.  Wait, yes.  Ughhh.  First off, I work two days a week, so I have a break.  But generally, yes I love staying with them.  They drive me crazy, and some days I wish I could strike the word "mommy" from the English language before I have a breakdown.  I think that maybe if I had a crafty side to me, or if I possibly could cook anything besides a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, life might be really cool staying home.  It's really tough with this age combination.  It's the days that I go to work that put it all in perspective.  Tonight, I came home to the biggest smile on a two year old I have ever seen.  He was thrilled to see me....not only because I had been gone all day long, but because I'm his person....the person that can't wait to listen to him breath.  The person that is fascinated by his singing....the person who is equally heartbroken when he can't find his penguin and who will listen to his rambling for hours on end.  I'm the person who hears his prayers to God as he thanks Him for the kitchen magnet, the dog and his sippy cup.  I'm the person that gets to practice prayers with him and dance to 80s music with him as he does "summer rolls" (aka somersaults).  I'm the one that can eliminate nightmare terror with one hug. I'm the one that knows that he can jump from the window sill to the couch to the coffee table to the ground without pausing.  I don't like a lot of stuff, but it's worth it when they have my fingerprint all over them.  I'm a fan of that. 

The Doctor's Visit from H-E-Double Hockey Stick.

Today I took a 6-month-old, a 2-year-old and a 4-year-old to get the flu shot.  I do this sometimes.  Occasionally, I get overly confident that I've somehow mastered the combo, and I take on something totally ridiculous....like three flu shots on my own. 

Right off the bat, I chickened out.  I postponed Adelai's shot until tomorrow's check up and convinced myself that giving a 6-month-old 4 shots instead of 3 shots on the same day would be better.  I then called Chris and begged him to meet me at the doctor's office.  He was busy, but threw out a "maybe I'll meet you there."  That was enough to give me courage.  (He never showed....I guess bringing home money or whatever is important.  FYI, at the doctor's office, I could've cared less if he came home with a million bucks today.  I still would have asked him to help.  I like instant gratification, if you haven't noticed.)

So, we went.  During this entire story, picture me holding a happy baby in my arms, who is delighted until I lay her down in her car seat.  This ticks her off immensely and she screams, which makes my irritation level skyrocket immediately.  Therefore, she is in my arms the entire time.  Because that's apparently how God designed it.  (Love that guy, but seriously?)

The first hurdle a mother of three faces is getting the children into the building without one of them getting run over by a SUV in the parking lot.  Who gets out first?  How do you make them follow the rules while you are getting the baby out of the car?  How do you carry your thermos of vodka without spilling it on the baby?  (Ha ha, just kidding.  That totally was a joke.  Please don't call DHS.  I don't even drink.)

I instructed them with my kindest firm voice to go stand by the wall without moving.  The kicker?  They actually did it.  This caught me off guard.  In fact, I had to stare at them for awhile, trying to anticipate their next move.  "Chase and Justin?  You are....standing by the wall.  Okay...that's umm....that's good guys.  Thanks? I mean, you are kinda creeping me out and stuff...but good job!"  So we sign in, they run all around screaming with joy, people are staring and judging, etc.  I don't care though, folks.  I showered, kids are alive, nobody smells, things are going great. 

They run circles around the waiting area.  More judging, more staring, whatever.  They scream at the fish in the waiting area, pounding the glass right under the sign that says "Please be quiet and don't pound the glass." We get to the room, and we find out that both kids are able to get the flu mist.  Whaaaaaaaaaaat?  Did I actually just catch a break?  Records are checked, everything looks good, and the lady comes into the room with the mist.  Justin picks this moment to announce that he has to potty.  Chase chimes in.  They both do the "I have to pee immediately dance".  Sure, guys.  Why not stop everything to go down a hallway so I can figure out how to button pants with one hand, twice?  But we get it figured out.  I'm on a roll.  We come back. 

Justin volunteers to go first.  He takes the mist like a warrior.  It is at this moment that I realize Chase has his nose in the corner, covering his face with both hands.  When it's his turn, he starts to scream hysterically.  "I DON'T WANT THE NOSE SHOT!!!!"  He goes into full on panic mode, as if I'm about to hurl him off a cliff into the abyss.  The nurse steps out for a moment, to "give you guys a couple minutes..." and Chase crawls under the sink in the room.  Justin decides the mist is running down his nose or something, and starts emptying out drawers of paper towels, using at least 60+ towels to wipe his face.  I lay Adie down, and she starts screaming.  All hell has broken loose.  Oddly enough, it's more comforting to be in chaos than to be orderly lately.  This is my baseline. 

So what do I do?  I whip out the mommy-threat.  "Chase, you are not leaving this building without the medicine.  You either do the mist, or you take a shot.  You tell me.  You are doing it though."  Screaming (in stereo, since the baby was screaming too).  Crying.  Snot everywhere.  Justin opens the door and runs down the hallway.  I shoot Chase the I-mean-business-don't-mess-with-me-I-will-destroy-you look.  He agrees to the mist and gives me the I-hate-you-for-trying-to-kill-me look. Justin wanders back into the room (because he doesn't even notice my mommy glare) and Chase takes the mist, which I don't even think he noticed. 

All is fixed by the stupid stickers at the desk.  Are you kidding me?  Both boys leave the building with joy.  One has a Star Wars sticker, and the other a Spongebob sticker which they both want on their arms, directly on the skin. 

And here is the absolute worst part of the whole story.  Tomorrow, we are doing it all over again for Adelai's 6 month check up.  Right now, I can't think of a harder job than being a mother.  sigh.

Confessions of the Non-Perfect Mommy

So I think it's important to set the standard low, people.  If I'm planning to truly blow you away, I'm going to really have to get you to clap for me when I'm speaking in complete sentences and have brushed my hair...all on the same day!  I'm holding a lot of sticks with spinning plates these days and I'm starting to notice that, in fact, it has taken its toll. 

Somebody told me that adding a third child to the mix wouldn't be a big deal at all.  Whoever you were (and I really can't remember, thanks to sleep deprivation), you lied to me.  And now that I've crossed over to the other side, I know exactly why.  You were suffering, and you needed company. (Nicely done.)  It has quite literally turned my world upside down.  So, here is a glimpse into the life of me...a non-perfect mommy. 

•  I can't make it to work (or anywhere else) on time to save my life.  If I'm 10 minutes late, it's because I literally ran out of the door, shaking babies off my leg left and right and screaming "No! I can't do it! I have to go!"  Otherwise, I'd be 30 minutes late. 
• I can't match a pair of socks for my children without a scavenger hunt.  This makes me late for work.  Every day. 
• I don't understand how people keep up with laundry.  Yes, the answer is clearly to do it every single day.  However, I skipped a week for my sister's wedding, and I'm not exaggerating when I say that we will never recover.  It will be known as laundry-gate 2010 in Garland family history.
• I can't imagine having a meal ready when my husband comes home for dinner.  I tried once a few weeks ago, and I burned the meal, Justin colored his body with a blue marker, Adelai was screaming hysterically and Chase got stuck on the potty waiting for me to help him wipe.  I briefly attempted to hold the baby and cook, but noticed she was really close to the stove.  That's not good, right?  I think I read that somewhere.
• I clean, they mess it up instantly.  I rake leaves, more fall.  I do 3 loads of dishes a day, and always have dishes left over.  It's an Olympic event to check the mail, and they deliver more the next day.  I can't catch up.  
• I work as a mental health evaluator in the emergency room with severely mentally ill people and call that a "break for my own sanity".  What does that say about my life?
• Sometimes I yell.  Sometimes I get it totally right as a mom.  Usually, I'm somewhere in the middle, just trying to survive.  This is usually directly correlated with how much coffee I have had that day.  The more, the better.
• I celebrate Sundays where we get to church at a reasonable time and I haven't muttered a curse word under my breath.  Oh, the irony. 
• If I'm home with the kids and I've showered before Chris gets home, that's a really good day. 

My point is not to out myself as a disaster.  Frankly, that's not a surprise to anybody.  What I really want to say is this:
To all the moms out there who know they are a mess, I remind myself every single day that I've worked with hundreds of broken kids out there and we've talked about what they wanted at home.  It wasn't matching socks.  It was unconditional, unwavering love. 

I look like a freak show, but my kids have that.  And I'll place my bets on that any day. 

Justin the Titan

I feel the need to describe my son Justin.  Why?  Because he drew on himself with a sparkly glue marker this morning and it struck me that I have a lot of responsibility with this boy. 

First off, to get a clear picture of him, you need to know that he didn't talk for about 22 months.  During that time, he was mastering the quest to match his big brother's physical abilities.  I think the day he was born, the kid was flat out irritated that he couldn't move.  He was pretty irritable until he started crawling at 6 months(literally 6 months.)  He was hanging on to furniture at 8 months, and by 9 months old he was nearly sprinting around the house.  He was climbing bookcases by 14 months old.  It has only gotten worse from there.  This summer, I watched him rock-climb the retaining wall in our yard in under 2 minutes for the first time. 

Justin's thoughts on any type of restraint of any kind at 12 months old:

This is Justin after he climbed a bookcase at 14 months old.  Yes I took a picture because who would believe it?

When he finally did start to talk and put sentences together, he quickly found the ability to make his demands known.  To put it simply, he likes what he likes.  He does NOT like what you like, unless it was his idea.  I have seen this child ask for milk, and then LITERALLY throw a tantrum when you give it to him because he didn't want milk.  I have also watched as he "tossed" the kitchen afterwards - knocking down chairs, pulling stuff out of drawers, etc.  I like to call this "passionate" because that seems like a mom thing to say. 

All this to say that I adore this child.  Even though his ability to toss a room and tantrum makes life difficult, I have such an appreciation for his conviction.  He's a heavy responsibility because I can see his personality leading him in two different directions: 1) jail or 2) a person who is able to move mountains in any direction he pleases.  Chris and I have no idea how to direct him into option #2, but lets just say that we pray a lot, and attempt to point out to the Lord that Justin could do a lot for Him if God would give us wisdom and patience.  I see greatness in this child's future.  I also see many holes in the walls of our home over the time where he is being molded and shaped. 

And finally, a word to those who know me well.  Yes, it has been pointed out (every day) that Justin has many of my attributes.  I get it.  Yes, I see it.  Yes, I apologized to both of my parents.  A few nights ago, Justin was throwing a tantrum at 3am, and I was up with him making clear the boundaries of his behavior.  When I came back to bed and the house was quiet, Chris said "Wow.  It's like the battle of the titans."  

I'm always the winner though.   

The Evolution of Brothers

I will readily admit that as the mother of two boys very close in age (20 months apart), I often feel like this is their house, and I'm just the chaperon.  I'm constantly aware that they could overtake this home at any point if they knew the power they possess.  Thankfully, they don't.  Yet. 

To give you an idea about these boys, consider the following:

Around the time that Justin moved into a toddler bed, there was much havoc in our home as Chris and I tried to do anything and everything to convince the boys that bed time was time to rest.  Justin was freed from the crib, and they were literally climbing the dresser, jumping off the bed, trying to climb the closet, and throwing every single piece of clothing out of the dresser and hamper into the same pile.  They would both cry when we put them back in their bed, and I just couldn't understand how two children could stay up that long.  One night, Chris and I decided to just let them play and make noise until they passed out from exhaustion.  This took 2.5 hours and when the room finally went quiet, I went back there and found that they had moved Justin's bed across the room so that it was now touching Chase's bed.  They slept a lot better after that. 

When Justin was potty training, my celebration at his success was met with lukewarm response.  I would be jumping around in the bathroom yelling "yay Justin!" and Justin would run by me with glee to find Chase and give him the big news.
 


It's tough to put this into words, but they move in nearly complete harmony.  Chase translates Justin's words.  Justin worries where Chase is and doesn't seem to value any "special time" with me or Chris unless Chase is there.  Chase calls Justin his best friend.  Justin asks Chase to kiss his owies to make them better.  Justin can't celebrate something without first telling Chase.  (This morning, it was the news that we were in fact having pancakes.  Justin jumped in the air, and then ran out of room yelling "Chase! Chase! We're eating pancakes!")

The boys are moving into a new era of brotherhood as Chase has started preschool 3 days a week.  Justin started bringing comfort items to his daycare because Chase wasn't there.  Chase actually seems okay, but I've noticed the reuniting is more difficult.  They seem to fight a bit more.  I know it's normal and I'm just hanging back watching as they navigate a big change.  It's an honor to be part of their story. 

However, if they ever do figure out how much power they have combined, I'm moving out. 

Preschool

The day came.  I can't believe it.  I drove Chase to his very first day of preschool today.  It was a usual car ride for him - we saw a hot air balloon on the way, and he delightfully told me that under no circumstances would he ride in a hot air balloon.  He would be willing to be on a rocket ship, however and if I could arrange that, he'd like to also bring his brother Justin.  He would also be willing to ride a horse.  Oh, and a donkey.  And also, he likes our dog.  And what are we having for dinner? 

As he's having this discussion with (me?) himself, it just kept running through my mind.  I'm DROPPING HIM OFF AT SCHOOL.  I remember the day he was born...the day my whole world changed.  I remember the day that I wiped his buns for the first time and it struck me how much it didn't bother me.  I remember looking at him and realizing this boy had made me a mother...and how I'd never be the same. 

So we walked in, and he signed himself in.  He walked to his cubby, and put his jacket away.  He said hi to his teacher.  I stared and tried to wipe his face.  He looked at me and said "Mom, I'm not going to be scared today, okay?" All I could think was....I guess it's my turn to be scared today. 

So he walked away.  I waited to reassure him, and he never looked back.  I guess this is where moms start to hold their breath.  He's out in the world, and I'm here.  He made me a mom, and I'm just here, being his mom and he's out in the world. 

He's a fantastic kid.  We are making great kids, if I do say so myself.  This mom thing is hard sometimes.