Clutter Crazy

I am a clutter bug! I have a problem.... a big problem. I find myself unable to throw away anything! Now, I'm not talking about Hoarders bad, but it's pretty bad! I don't know what my obsession is, but it's something I must tame.
I keep things that make no sense. I'll keep an empty bag, just because I MIGHT need it later. I'll keep all of the Valentines Noah gets at school because he MIGHT want to read them later. I'll keep every article of clothing that my children ever wore. I'll keep every article of clothing that I ever wore, regardless of how out of date/too small.
Perhaps this wouldn't be a problem if our house was large, or had storage, or if we had a storage building out back. We don't, and as a result, we have to live with my constant clutter. Clint has been an angel in dealing with my obsession. He (a former neat freak) has actually started to take on some of my horrible traits, which only makes everything worse. My keeping of clutter has led me to have a problem losing things.... I lose EVERYTHING because I keep EVERYTHING.
Take today for instance, I woke up this morning and had my cell phone for the most part of the morning. Now, here it is 1:22 in the afternoon and I can't find it anywhere. I have looked through the trash, looked in the big trash bins outside, looked in laundry room, kids room, bathroom, kitchen, entryway, etc. The phone is nowhere to be found!
There is no telling where I might find my phone.... heck, yesterday Clint came home to find peanut butter in the refrigerator.

Good Enough for God?

As a parent, I am constantly questioning myself. I question if the kids are eating the right foods, watching the right shows, learning the right things to be prepared for school, and being the right kind of friend. But mainly I wonder if I am being the Godly example that my children need me to be.
The Bible says in Romans 3:23 for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. I know that this is to be expected, but I wonder sometimes how short do I fall? It is my hope that my children see Christ through me.
I honestly don't know how well I do at that job. I am too quick to anger, I don't always turn the other cheek, I am not in church every Sunday, I certainly am not submissive to their father, and I have a sharp tongue.
I comfort myself a lot with all of the ways I could be worse.... you know, the way you will try to rationalize your shortcomings to make yourself feel better. I don't do drugs, I don't beat my children, we attend church pretty regularly, I teach them about God, we read Bible verses and pray together.
But is this good enough for God? I know that when my savior calls me home I will stand accountable for all that I did as a parent. Are my choices good enough or am I falling too short? I know that, as parents, we are responsible for raising our children up in the word. The Bible says that if you raise them right they will not depart from it in their old age.
So, as Mother's Day approaches it is my prayer that I am doing enough and being enough of an example that my children will see Christ through my actions. I pray for Christ to help me grow in the areas where I fall short and help me be the harbor where my childrens religious journey call home. I thank God daily for the joy of my babies and I pray that I am doing right by Him.

Wonderous WalMart

So, the other night a miraculous event occured..... I was able to go to WalMart by myself. I didn't have to take anyone with me. I was completely alone. Nobody to place in carseats, remove from carseats, place in buggy, make sit down in buggy, tell no for grabbing things off shelves, comfort when crying because of aforementioned discipline, threaten with random violence, explain that random violent acts mentioned simply mean: stop what you are doing.

Needless to say, I was giddy! Before kids going to WalMart is no big life-changing event. Yes, perhaps WalMart was where you would go on a Friday or Saturday night, if you were like me and too dorky and scared of hellfire and damnation to go out partying like your other deliquent peers. How is it that just a few years later WalMart is both the bane of my existence and a blessing all at the same time?

WalMart with kids= torture. Seriously, we should consider using that as a prison torture tactic.... the United States would have gotten much farther with the prisoners in Guantanamo if they'd sent them one at a time with a car load of small children to WalMart with a list of things to buy (none of them being candy or toys) and a limited time frame. Perhaps they should've made it at the childrens naptime and make sure they didn't have a great nights sleep the night before. All of this added together would've been plenty for every prisoner to be begging for forgiveness and giving up the whereabouts of Bin Laden. Alas, the United States Government has yet to call me asking for the solutions to all of the worlds problems, so the WalMart torture scheme is still reserved for worn out mothers.

WalMart without kids= (depressingly) exciting. I say depressingly because I never once thought growing up that escaping to WalMart by myself would be the highlight of my day. Heck, make that my week! But if you are like me, you completely understand what I mean. As a mom we usually feel guilty for leaving our children for any extended period of time. Mommy guilt will eat you alive and spit you back out. You feel guilty for taking a whole day to meander around from store to store browsing through clothing & accessories. WalMart, however, gives you a reprive from that guilt. Everyone has to have food (WalMart), kids need diapers, socks, school supplies (WalMart), birthday gifts, anniversary presents, cosmetics, medicine, pet supplies, home & garden.... WalMart, WalMart, WalMart! I am giddy just thinking about wandering from aisle to aisle looking at the latest bargain that I DON'T need, add to that seeing other adults that don't expect you to wipe their butts, and WalMart by yourself is like a mini-vacation.

So, the other night I get to go to WalMart. I get into the van (yes, I drive a minivan.... more on that story another day) and head off to my destination. I listen to the radio and sing songs that you can't listen to with innocent ears around. I pretend to be cool singing, ignoring the fact that I probably look like a fool to the passing cars. I pull into the parking lot and snag a primo parking spot (a sign that I've been living my life right). Upon putting the car into park I came to a startling conclusion..... I was still in my pajamas.... at nine o'clock at night. I hadn't brushed my hair..... ALL day. AND I had Hadley spit up all down the back of my shirt.

Now I don't know what's the saddest part of my little story. The fact that I didn't realize all of this before leaving the house or the fact that I was so excited to be at WalMart that I still went in looking like I did and held my head up high? I was so giddy to be all by myself that I could've been wearing nothing but a tutu and tennis shoes and I STILL would've attempted to make my shopping trip.

And THAT my friends is the power of the Wonderous WalMart.... making tired mommies forget their fashion senses since 1962. (actual opening date of walmart for you history buffs)

Pissy Willow

Connor was given the wrong name. We carefully picked out his name after many hours of reading through baby name books, arguing, making lists, and then crossing them out. We finally decided to name him Connor and we thought we had picked the absolute best choice. Apparently, we were wrong.

Connor should have been named Pissy Willow. My child has an obsession with urination. I mean, an absolute OBSESSION. He doesn't want to just use the potty, he's not content with simply grabbing his "dinger" like other little boys; this child is crazy about pee pee. He wants to pee every few minutes, he sticks in hands down his diaper every time he pees, and worst of all he loves nothing more than to strip down naked and pee on our household furnishings.

Yes, I said pee on our household furnishings. In the beginning, Connor was content to simply get out of the bathtub, smile sweetly, and pee in the floor. As of late he has decided that peeing in the floor just isn't enough. We've upgraded to urinating on more important things in the house.

Part of me wonders, is this a man thing? Is my precious little baby marking his territory like a dog? What else could explain why he secretly removes his clothes and pees on his dirty clothes pile or climb into the recliner and pee all over the back of the chair?

The ultimate territorial marking to date? What I like to call The Great Bike Escapade. Santa brought Noah a new bike. Noah doesn't really care for his bike, but he doesn't want Connor to touch it. This fact alone makes Connor love the bike immensely. He can't ride it (since his legs are like an oompa loompa's) but he climbs up it just to sit and pretend he's riding. Needly to say, the arguments over the bike are a little like nails scraping down a chalkboard. A few days ago I happened upon Connor sitting on Noah's bike (it stays inside the house), with his diaper dangling off one ankle. After returning with a fresh diaper, I find Connor smiling and laughing while he peed all over Noah's bike and my bedroom floor!

Then and there I knew it, we'd chosen the wrong name. He should've never been named Connor, Pissy Willow is in fact much more appropriate. Don't you agree?