Sweet Girls

My dear daughter-in-laws,

If you are reading this, then I have succeeded in my life's work: taking little babies and shaping them into someone worth marrying. I hope you were picky when choosing a husband. I hope you have spent hours in prayer before agreeing to live the rest of your life with one of my kids.

They aren't perfect, and they weren't raised perfectly.

Not even close.

I'm currently failing in areas like nap time. The boys won't lie down and go to sleep without 30 minutes to an hour and a half of talking and playing. The most peaceful solution is for me to come up to bed with them, sit on the floor and monitor. It feels a little like standardize testing day --every day. And that's where we are now. Ty has disappeared under his navy blue covers. You won't believe the tossing and turning it takes this boy to get comfortable. While I've been typing this he has rolled around so much that he's fallen off the bed --twice. Oh and the beds they are sleeping in? Yes, they wet 'em last night and I haven't changed 'em.

Like I said, I'm not perfect.

Raising kids is hard work.

I'm not going to tell you about hard 4 days I've had.... cause I want grand babies.

You'll see what I mean when the time comes. Right now all you need to know is that God will give you whatever you need to raise your little ones.

And, I want to apologize for what your little ones will put you through. They say "You pay for your raising." Actually... It's you, as the mama, who will pay for your husband's raising. Cause it's you who will be around most all the time. Sorry.

You'll pay the price for things like:

The genetically passed down need to be completely naked when going poop.

Sorry.

It won't be a big deal except for on a few rare occasions. When you are in public and a child needs to poop, inconvenient but manageable. It's a little more of a situation when you are in public and TWO boys need to poop.

That's where we were today.

Thank goodness it was at Chick-fil-a and they have clean bathrooms, in fact, better there than at my house. Jack and Ty head into the stalls. I help Ty cause he's the youngest. I lift him up and set him on the seat.

"Ty, we are not going to take all your clothes off this time."

"I want two shoes off."

"No, we're going to leave them on."

"Noooooo! I want to take them off!"

"Not this time Ty, they need to stay on, we are in public, we don't get naked in public."

"Nooooooooooo!!!! Mommy, I wanna take them offfffff!!!"

"Ty, stop crying. We are going to leave them on.... Ok.... We'll take one off and...."

"Noooooooooooo!!!"

"Ty, you've got to stop crying."


I look over to see Jack's clothes in a pile on the floor. Nice. Why do we even bathe?

"Ty, I'm going to have to spank you if you keep crying."

Ty continues to wail. Someone walks into the restroom, patiently waits as they witnesses the stars alignment: my kids having to poop at exactly the same time. I don't know why things like this surprise me any more.

"Ok Ty, we'll take off your shoes."

As he calms down I head out of one stall, look up and explain to the lady who is about to head in there that the toilet is still occupied. I enter Jack's stall, nearly slip on the liquid on the floor.

"Jack, what's on the floor?"

"Pee-pee"

"Jack, did you pee-pee on the floor?"

"Yes."

"Jack, your underwear and pants are all wet because you peed on them."

He looks up into my eyes as if trying to get a read on my temperature.

I start unrolling the toilet paper and placing it on the tile floor below when Ty calls me:

"Mommy, I done! Mommy! Mommmmmyyyyyyyy!!"

"Ty, I'm right here. Just a second."

Exit stall, enter stall.

I examine the toilet contents. Don't be grossed out, it's just something you do when you're a mom. The condition of your young children's stools is information that you need to know. What's in the toilet? I know, you're curious now. A tiny, itty-bitty little poop --hardly anything.

I wipe his hiney.

I redress the boy: underwear, shirt, blue jeans, shoe #1, shoe #2.

Exit stall, enter stall.

"Jack, are you done?"

"Yes."

I peek in. Much more warranted trip to the potty than Ty's. I wipe, explain to Jack that he must go commando since his undies were all wet. But he still had to wear his pants. I wasn't sure how he'd take the news of having to wear wet pants. Just the day before at MDO he spilled water down his front and began to strip down in the middle of his pre-k class. He had a cow when his teacher told him he needed to keep his pants on. It ended with a trip down to the "principal's" office.

Thank goodness he didn't fight me. He put on his pants. We go out to wash hands. I scrubbed those twenty little fingers till they turned bright red. Then we left.

Sweet girl, I'm sorry...

When you have rough days and need someone to blame, call me.

But remember, like you, I just work here...