Setting Boundaries

I love the *idea* of letting my children explore and experiment with things, permitting they are appropriate and safe. However, I find that the *idea* of letting them do this and the reality of being able to allow it often collide...and explode.

I wish I could allow them to be crafty and NOT CARE that there was glue and glitter and marker all over the kitchen, but I have a house full of 7 people to maintain...plus, who wants to waste money replacing things that get damaged?

I wish I could laugh as they chased each other around the house, SHRIEKING with delight and making my ear drums ring, but, unfortunately, I do not enjoy migraines...plus you can only take so much medication before you're doing more harm than good!

I wish I could let them get FILTHY in the dirt playing outside, catching bugs and picking their nose, but I can't help but tell them to "Keep away from there, in case there's black widows!" or " Please keep those DIRTY fingers out of your mouth...and your sister's!"...plus, I really like to avoid unnecessary exposure to germs and deadly pests, even if SOME germs are a good thing.

I wish I could NEVER have to yell or raise my voice at my children, but if I never did they'd never hear me over their own chorus of cheers, chants and tears...plus, I hear yelling a little keeps you from going off the deep end completely.

I wish that I could say I loved breastfeeding ALL the time because it's only beautiful and wonderful and joyous, but then I'd be not only a liar but discrediting myself and the other moms when they are going through a BAD or DIFFICULT phase...plus, let's face it, after 2.5 years sometimes you just want to say no, because you can.

I wish that I could let my house stay in a constant state of toy mess and not get frustrated at the massive piles of trucks, barbies and stubbed toes that result from it but, I enjoy NOT stubbing my toe to a bloody nubbin and having a neat and organized house that doesn't automatically scream "KIDS LIVE HERE" when someone walks in the door...plus, who really enjoys having bloody nubs for toes?

I really do wish I could live up to the *idea* of that kind of mom, but instead, I'll keep doing my best to reach that point and not cry if I miss it by an inch...or a mile...plus, who REALLY wants to be *perfect* anyhow?

All I really want...

Out of all the things that I could achieve in life, all I really want is for my children to be happy and healthy. I want to make sure I am making the best choices possible for their growth and development, and not just in the here and now, but in the long run, for the rest of their lives. I want them to grow up to know that their mother might not have always made the best choices, but instead of burying her head in the sand and ignoring her mistakes, she learned from it. Can I take back anything that I did differently with my older child? My second child? My youngest child? No. Can I hope to enlighten them, and others by sharing what I have done over the years and also, what I've learned, through experience as well as research and maturity? Yes.

When I share advice with someone, whether it be anecdotal or factual, I don't share it because I enjoy the sound of my own voice. I don't share it because I think my way is the ONLY way. I don't share it because I think they are bad, or stupid, or failing. No, not at all. If I thought that they were a lost cause, why would I bother? Instead, I share what I've come to know because I DO care. Because, if I can help YOU avoid feeling the regret I've felt at times, then it is worth it. If I can help YOU to make a better choice for you little one, that may greatly benefit their health, THAT'S worth it.

Often times women will say that it's not my child to care about, but, when you hear a tragic story on the news, about a child abandoned, or beaten, or murdered...do you not feel bad? But, it's not your child to care about, is it? See, that's just silly. Of course you care! You, as a mother, cannot help but care about other children, because you see your own children IN them. Now, don't go on thinking that I'm comparing beating a child to different forms of parenting, what I am comparing is the compassion that one feels over different children.

How many of us have thought we were right about something before? Seriously, we've ALL thought we were right about SOMETHING!

How many of you have been WRONG at some point about what you thought you were oh so right about? ALL of us. We have ALL been there, be it an answer on a quiz in school, the judgement of a friend we thought we could trust who then betrayed us, picking the wrong man we thought was the love of our lives, and even making decisions with our children that we believed to be best. Later on, we may discover that what we thought we were SO SURE about, was in fact, poor judgement or even misinformation. This does not make us bad. This does not make us stupid. This does not mean we cannot LEARN and CHANGE.

So, you study harder or take your time on the next test. You are more careful who you become close to. You are more selective and cautious when dating. You research and learn more for your next child and perhaps even *gasp* make some changes.

We could all benefit from opening our ears and our minds, but we're not the only ones involved...our children are. Sometimes, you must swallow that pride, admit that perhaps you were wrong, and do what it takes to create a better choice for your family, for your children...for their future and yours.

Typical Day...

As I'm basking in the warm sunlight of my glorious rose garden, draped in soft silk that blows in the gentle breeze, I reach over to take a sip of my ice cold long island. Just as I bring the cool glass to my hot, wet lips, it's knocked all over my beautiful white sheet...and I realize one of the kids has just jumped up onto the bed, and disturbed my peaceful sleep. Time to start the day!

I quickly and quietly shoo them away, desperately trying to avoid waking the sleeping babe next to me. I slide out from under the covers and tip-toe out the room, shutting the door ever so silently. I pour some cereal and milk for the girls and set them at the table to enjoy their breakfast.

I rush to go tinkle before the baby wakes me up, ready for his boob a la carte. Brushing my hair into a quick and neat pony tail is a must if I want to avoid the tugging and pulling the baby will put it through (not to mention the wonderful spit up I usually end up with!). When I walk back into the bedroom to adorn my oh so bodacious mommy body with clothes, the baby stirs and makes his morning cry, letting me know it's time to eat.

As I sit down to nurse him, the girls are finishing up breakfast. They begin running around the house while I calmly feed the baby. As he laps up the last of his yummy goodness, he smiles and coo's his good morning hello's.

Just when I think things are going peaceful, one of the girls begins crying, right after I hear a nice crash in the other room. As I sit the baby up he spits up his breakfast all over my clothes (Outfit number 1: lasted 5 minutes). I comfort crying baby number one while cleaning up spitty baby number 2, while lecturing bratty baby number 3, and wiping the regurgitated milk off my furniture (and self).

I can't wait for the rest of the day!!