Saying No

I am so tired of saying no. But my kids ask the most outlandish things...what else am I supposed to say all day?

I've read parenting articles on how to avoid saying "no" to toddlers. You know, divert their attention, that sort of thing. That may aid in circumventing temper tantrums, but what about downright ridiculous requests??

Ainsley: "Mommy can you turn the air conditioner on?"
Mom: "No, it's the middle of winter."
Ainsley: "But I'm cold." (oh yes...this is a conversation we've really had)
Mom: "If you're cold, I need to turn on the heater."
Ainsley: "Well, I just want the air conditioner on. Can you turn it on please?"
Mom: "No."
Ainsley: "Please please please please?"
Mom: "No."

Note the use of, count them, three "no"s in the course of one short conversation. You can't exactly divert the attention of a three year old.

Ainsley: "Mommy, can you turn the air conditioner on?"
Mom: "Look at that bird."

It just doesn't work.

And the thing is (as illustrated in the example above) one "no" doesn't suffice these days. This was our conversation this morning:

Mom: "Benjamin please stop blowing that obnoxious noise maker that you got at Ian's birthday party, of which I am going to hunt down the inventor and subject him to all forms of evil torture, not the least of which will be wrestling him to the ground and blowing that thing in his ear."

Ok...so maybe that's not quite how it went.

Mom: "Benjamin, please stop blowing that. Mede is taking a nap."
Ben: "But it sounds like a goose."
Mom: "Great. Well, sound like a goose when Mede is awake."
Ben: "When it's time to wake Mede up [for church], can I wake him up with my goose noise?"
Mom: "No."
Ben: "Why not?"
Mom: "Because that's a yucky way to wake up. Would you want someone to come and wake you up with a loud goose noise?"

**Commence 5 minute diatribe on how much Benjamin would love for someone to wake him with a loud goose noise.**

Mom: "Okay. Well, even if you would want someone to wake you up with a loud goose noise, I don't think Mede wants to be woken up that way."
Ben: "Can I just try?"
Mom: "No."

Why don't they ask things that I can say yes to? "Hey Mom, can I have a plate full of vegetables?" or "Mom, can I be really quiet now so the baby can go to sleep?" What about this one: "Mother dear, may I please thoroughly brush my teeth, go potty, and get my pajamas on so that you may sit and enjoy your novel?"

Alright...I'm getting ridiculous now. But sometimes you just want to say yes.

Do you think that's how Heavenly Father feels at times? Why don't they just ask for something that I'm ready to give them? Why don't they ask for something I can say yes to? I guess Heavenly Father probably doesn't ask why. But you know what I mean. I'm sure that some of the things I pray for in my relative preschoolhood (eternally speaking) sound to Father in Heaven the way Benjamin's and Ainsley's requests sound to me. It has given me a better understanding of what it means to ask things in the name of Christ.

In the Bible dictionary under "prayer," it says: "We pray in Christ's name when our mind is the mind of Christ, and our wishes the wishes of Christ--when his words abide in us. We then ask for things it is possible for God to grant."

Hmmm....perhaps I need to stop asking for the air conditioner to be on in the winter...

Learning Curve

Benjamin's learning style is very interesting...I've been observing it for awhile now. Like 5 years or so. He has always been the type to not get it, not get it, not get it...BOOM. He can do it. None of this wasting time with progressive steps or practice. When he was a baby, I wondered if he was ever going to be mobile. Then he decided to army crawl for all of an afternoon before moving on to the real deal.

And now it's puzzles. He just did not get how to put puzzles together. His idea of putting puzzles together was watching me do it. I would give him a piece and ask him where he thought it should go. He would kind of fiddle around, twisting it this way and that, then give it back to me and say, "I don't know." Even if it was the last piece of the darn picture!

Then this morning, he's putting puzzles together--doing the whole thing by himself. There was no easing into it, no learning to put the edge together first...he's just doing it.

I have a feeling his learning style is a somewhat frustrating mixture of mom's perfectionism and dad's quick wit (and hatred of busywork). It's like he doesn't want to attempt anything until he's sure he can do it just right. And then he catches on to the "just right" pretty quickly and is ready to move on to bigger and better things.

He's also recently learned to write letters. One day he couldn't do it, the next day he could write every letter of the alphabet. He'll ask me how to spell something and he'll just sit and write every letter as I say it. And it used to be that he would write them kind of wherever he felt a letter should go on the page. So thank you could end up YUTKNAHO.

Hey...I bet he'll be good at anagrams.

But yesterday I was making dinner (macaroni and cheese counts, right??) while the kids were minding their own business with some paper and colored pencils. Suddenly he said, "Look, Mom" and held this up:

I said, "How did you learn how to spell Ainsley?" to which he replied, "I just remembered it. A-I-N-S-L-E-Y."

I thought this was a pretty cute picture, worthy of publication. I asked him why Ainsley had so many eyes and he said that two of those are nostrils. And she's standing on a hill, in case you were wondering. But up until just a few months ago, he had never even attempted to draw a tangible object. It was all just scribbling for the first four and a half years of life.

It makes it so it's rather difficult to teach things. I'll fret and worry for months, thinking he's going to go through life not knowing how a puzzle goes together, and figuring that all my attempts at teaching him edge pieces vs. inside pieces is a complete failure. Then one morning I wake up and he's got a completed puzzle laying out on the coffee table.

Go figure.

And just because I'm in charge of this blog and I revel in the power that yields, I'll add a cute picture that I took of my girls today (even though it has nothing whatsoever to do with puzzles, letters, or Benjamin):

Refocusing

I had kind of a stressful morning. So now I'm going to sit, take a deep breath, and write some things I'm thankful for...in no particular order...and find my zen.

Some things I'm thankful for on this rainy Thursday:

• Baby wipes
• Tootsie Rolls
• The way Mede says thank you ("dee doo")
• Leslie Sansone's Walk Away the Pounds (that's actually a love/hate relationship, but I'm grateful all the same)
• Random acts of kindness
• Peanut butter
• Homemade bread
• Chaco sandals
• My kids bringing me sticks, dandelions, leaves, rocks, and other sundry items they find outside. What mother doesn't love a stick??
• Really good writing pens
• Benjamin's emerging writing skills
• Email
• Katie's coos and smiles
• Ainsley's fantastically frantic hair...mostly
• Rubbermaid containers
• Washing machines
• New crayons
• That two out of my four children can put on their own shoes
• The VeggieTales theme song
• Libraries
• Electricity
• Amazingly wonderful neighbors and friends (even when they move to Spokane!)
• Good examples of motherhood all around me
• The amazing family from whence I came :)
• The General Conference edition of the Ensign
• Dinosaur chicken
• Family Fun magazine

There. That really helped. Anyone out there in blogland want to find their zen? I'd love to hear what you're thankful for....

Girl Talk

Today Benjamin got to go on a field trip to the dam. I tried to explain to him what a dam was: somebody puts a big...thing...in the river to stop the water. He said, "Like a fence?" I said, "Well, a lot bigger than a fence." So he told Andrew that he was going to see a big fence.

I was packing his lunch this morning and Ainsley figured out that he was going to get to have a picnic. Apparently the giant fence didn't hold much draw for her, but a picnic lunch is something else entirely. I felt pretty bad telling her that she didn't get to go and, in a moment of weakness, I promised her a tea party.

I don't know who planted the tea party seeds in Ainsley's fertile little mind, but I take no credit. I think all parents try to get their children interested in toys and games that they played with as kids, hoping to be able to relive their childhood. I freely admit to force-feeding Ainsley dolls simply so that I could wrap them up in the little blankets and brush hair. But tea parties? I don't ever remember a time when I cared about tea parties. Dolls? Most definitely. Playing house? Of course. Playing school and crying when my siblings stepped on my imaginary students? Obviously. But not one tea party.

Nevertheless, a few months ago Ainsley started wanting a tea party. She got so desperate that I decided one weekend (when the "boys" were all up in Deer Park visiting Grandma and Grandpa Helm) to just get it over with. We went to the thrift store and picked up some mismatched tea cups and plates. We even found a "tea blanket" (as she called it) on which to spread it all. I thought to myself, "Alright, we'll have a tea party. She'll get it out of her system and we can get on with more meaningful playtime pursuits...like Cabbage Patch Kids."

Every parent of a three year old daughter is laughing at my naivete. Not only did this not get it out of her system, but it fueled the fire. She has been begging for a tea party every hour of every day since. Cue this morning when, in a fit of maternal empathy, I promised her yet another tea party.

An outside tea party ended up not being an option. We started out there, but soon realized the dirt under the grass where she had painstakingly laid her "tea blanket" was sopping wet. So we took our soggy bottoms inside and had a tea party on the living room floor (note to self...I need to pick up some carpet cleaner next time I'm at WalMart...).

And I was reminded again of why I love my little Ainsley. She can be such a...girl--to the point where we have already started to butt heads a bit. She's sassy and emotional where Benjamin is even-tempered and mellow. I've always said she was going to be our little cheerleader because everything she does is done with the greatest enthusiasm--even exasperating her mother.

Lately she's taken to calling everything I do "beautiful." My spit-up stained sweat pants are beautiful. My unwashed pony tail with stray hairs sticking out all over is beautiful. The other day when I was tucking her in, I pulled away from her hug and she said emphatically, "Mommy...I think you are sooo beautiful."

Of course this morning when I gave her a kiss she said, "Mommy....you're kind of stinky." Nothing like a three year old to bring you back to the reality of morning breath. But that's a whole other blog entry.

One of Ainsley's greatest attributes is being thankful for the little things. She is so easy to please. She thinks mismatched tea cups and a second-hand tea blanket are beautiful. She didn't put up a fuss when we couldn't eat outside; she was happy to invite Mede and his teddy bear. She just wanted her tea party.

And she never once complained about not getting to see the giant fence.

Regarding Sleep and Answered Prayers

A funny thing happened last week. Andrew left me. You know...for his summer internship in Spokane. Anyway, here's the funny part: I'm still alive. I survived. With four kids. Alone. There was no spontaneous maternal combustion, no melting of the flesh, no puddles of liquified Shannon on the floor. The house did not collapse nor did I misplace any of the children (a common worry once you're outnumbered 4 to 1). And this, my friends, is the story of why....

I need sleep to function. Now I realize that this can be said of any human being. In fact it can be said of any member of the animal kingdom. But when I say that I need sleep to function I mean that I need sleep to function. If I don't get one good night's rest I can usually force myself to continue breathing through the next day. Usually. Two nights of poor sleep, and I begin to take on a zombie-esque patina. After three nights of stingy sleep I turn into the female equivalent of the Incredible Hulk...only not green...and not quite so big.

And therein lay the crux of my worries for this temporary single parenthood. The weeks before Andrew was to start his internship, Katie began sleeping less and less. This wasn't too disconcerting because my dear husband was often around, allowing for a nap or a lazy morning here and there. Always in the back of my mind, however, was the thought, "What am I going to do when he's not here to help??"

Now fast forward to the Wednesday before Andrew started working in Spokane...just twelve short days ago. It was Benjamin's birthday party, conveniently scheduled to coincide perfectly with Katie's morning nap. Those who have experienced the birthday party of an energetic five year old and his overzealous sidekicks know that it's a miracle for anyone within a 2 mile radius to sleep through it, let alone a newborn in the next room. But she did. Katie slept through the whole shebang...Curious George pinata and all.

My friend, Andrea, (mother of overzealous sidekicks numbers 2 and 3) stayed to help with the party and kept marvelling that Katie was still asleep. I just smiled, allowing her the believe what she would about The Two Month Old Wonder and her amazing mother who knows exactly how to juggle the demands of four young children. Inside I was thinking, "I need to go make sure she's breathing."

And ever since that day, Katie has slept beautifully. I put her to bed at 7:00 p.m. and she sleeps straight through until 3:00 or 4:00, waking only long enough for a little snack, then sleeps until 8:00 or so the next morning. One night she went straight from 7:00 p.m. until almost 5:30 a.m. It was truly a miracle. And it came literally just when I needed it. It made it so that I got the rest I needed to make it through the first week of Andrew's absence. I even got the laundry done!

Not once did I awaken in the morning to find that I had sprouted bulking biceps or green skin.

Do you remember watching Sleeping Beauty when the fairies fly through the kingdom, putting everyone to sleep? They wave their little wands and suddenly everyone falls asleep (and turns sort of a putrid green...not sure what that's about). I like to imagine Heavenly Father sending one of his seraphim down to sprinkle sleeping powder on little Katie.

A bit sacreligious? Perhaps. But it paints a happy picture in my mind. I truly believe that Katie's sleep was one of the many ways Heavenly Father carried me through the week. He knows me personally. He knows that lack of sleep can cause me lose all rational thought. I feel energized, and not simply because of my physical rest. Feeling that my Father in Heaven is aware of me and my plight makes me feel up to the task and gives me hope that He will help me through it.

One week down, only 13 more to go.