A little kindness please..

When I was in nursing school (back before medical school, residency and children), I was amazed at the harshness of the experienced nurses towards us nursing students. On clinical rotations, the nurses were our teachers, our supervisors. They were often frustrated by our questions, impatient with our incompetent hands as we tried to learn new skills. I was amazed. It was particularly interesting in that the nurses treated nursing students with a disdain that I felt was much worse than what I experienced later as a medical student. Did they not remember what it was like to learn? Does a little kindness towards a young student really cost you that much?

Fast forward 15 years. Today we went to a high school musical. I took Caroline, Henry and John Mac in order to try to give my husband some quiet and work time. I knew it would be a challenge. A two hour show with a two year old in my lap. I brought quarters for snack food and I was fully planning to leave at intermission if necessary. Why are we doing this you wonder? A neighborhood girl down the street asked us to come and watch her as the star of the show. So, here we go. We made it through the first half. I was so pleased. No loud noises or crying, it was great. We head to the bathrooms immediately upon intermission. (I do have a two year old in underwear with me.) The line is long despite our focused path there. I guess even moving fast with three in tow is still slow. We wait. We wait some more. Finally we all four fit in one stall and take turns using the potty. (I only had to say four times, "please do not open the door yet".) After a difficult exit, we go to wash hands. Unfortunately there is only one working sink. As we all four use the sink there is a line of adult women waiting. They sigh. They hold their germy hands out as if it is work for them to have to wait to get them clean as I lift each child up to reach the soap and push the button multiple times to keep the water on. I keep moving beneath their dull eyes. Whatever. My children get clean hands and we move on to the 25 cent candy bars. But I found myself thinking: can we share a little kindness please? And it reminded me of nursing school. Same deal. Most of these women were older; they had been mothers of young children at one time. They knew what it was like to use the restroom with an extra appendage. It was sad. But I think noticing the lack of kindness made me realize how often I am so glad for the kindness I receive as a young mother.

Toothpaste Art

Yesterday I cleaned large patches of blue colored toothpaste off the kids' bathroom sink. Today I cleaned large patches of blue colored toothpaste off the kids' bathroom sink. And I don't understand why there is always so much toothpaste all around the sink. Are they painting the sink with it? It really is enough to make several images in several locations. Is it that hard to put toothpaste on the toothbrush directly? It is really quite remarkable and you have to scrub to get the large congealed chunks of blue off. (Don't get me started on how there must be a health problem with bright blue toothpaste with glittery specks in it for kids; it's really hard to find organic toothpaste for kids in W'burg). I do have the kids clean the sinks some, and they are actually good at it. But it seems wrong to make a 5 year old on her way to school clean the sink every day. Just so I clarify that I do not frequently rant about cleaning ....I have totally given up on the boys' potty. Clearly making a small boy pee only in the water portion of the toilet bowl is a goal I can never obtain and I have surrendered myself to daily wiping down the toilets. However, the sink seems to irritate me even more because I simply don't understand why a toothpaste free sink is not an obtainable goal. I frequently even put the toothpaste on their brushes for them. Although I must say that part of why I don't know how it gets so messy is because bedtime around here is action packed entertainment and I never get to stand and slowly watch the toothbrushing portion of the show. And yet, if the bathroom sink is filling up this much of my brain clearly something is wrong with me. I think I'll go outside this afternoon.

Oh, an interesting conversation I had with Henry yesterday. We were driving around in the car and Henry said, "We are a big town and God is having fun playing with us while we drive around." I tried to ask what he meant, and Henry slowly described that we are essentially God's train table toy. God moves us around the map as we drive around W'burg. I thought it was a pretty creative idea. I told Henry, "Yes, but your trains don't get to talk to you Henry, and tell you where they want you to go. We get to talk to God and tell him where we would like to go in the town." Free will verses sovereignty of God at age four....pretty impressive.

The Youngest

What is it like to be the youngest of four siblings? Sometimes I wonder what Hannah's perspective on life in our house is like. How does it feel to have three people burst into your room with shouts of excitement when they hear your mother waking you? What is it like to be picked up by an older sister and hugged tightly as if you were a large baby doll? How is it to play cars with two older brothers who move quickly and loudly, but somehow always miss stepping on you? Today I let Hannah sit in the green grass as her older siblings played outside and she took off crawling. She cackled with delight trying to chase them across the yard. Never mind that they are larger and can run, while she is a crawling infant. Hannah has a wonderful courageous tenacity. Her pants are dirty, but she had a wonderful time today. I hope in the midst of all the noise and excitement of life around her, she experiences joy at being loved by lots of people all at once.

A Life of Medicine

Even though I am not practicing medicine anymore, I can't make it through a week without actually using the doctor part of my brain. In the past week I have looked at an axillary (medical word for armpit; no way you can be well paid and say "armpit") rash, given advice about antibiotics to a recently hospitalized friend, looked a 10 year old's ear (pretty red) and offered my mother advice on her bloodwork. This is all you-get-what-you-pay-for free advice which I share with a few extra tips and lots of joy that I don't have the responsibility to actually treat whatever "it" is. Last night though, John Mac fell on his way up the steps to our deck. I saw my hurt two year old son and suddenly my doctor brain was gone. Holding his arm gingerly, John Mac had an initial facial expression of fear; he was scared by the pain. Hours later, after lots of x-rays, we sat quietly together in the exam room. The tools, the smell, the round stool is all so comfortable to me from my training. But sitting there with my little boy hurt felt so strange and different. We ended the night with a splint and a sling for John Mac and one for his yellow bunny that we brought along for the ride. John Mac was incredibly pleasant and kind throughout the process, especially when I learned this morning he really did break his ulna. Here is a picture of our gracious patient on his arrival home. His sister was waiting up for him.

We head to the orthopedist tomorrow. Bunny will be along for the ride again. I plan to bring some lollipops for John Mac. Any good ideas on how to treat Mommy?

Doxology

I was one cup of coffee low today at church. Unwise after "springing forward" the clocks last night. I went to the late service allowing extra time for the morning and instead of feeling ahead and victorious, I was slow and confused. The children were collapsed against me throughout the prayers. I tugged at their arms to stand and sing. We were going through the motions of a Sunday. It all felt fuzzy and dull. If I could have formed a coherent thought, I would have reminded myself there is value in being here, value in trying to worship even if I can't seem to fully engage. Then we sang the doxology. It was just like every Sunday before, piano forte after we offer our tithes, but somehow I was able to finally leave the fuzz of myself. The fullness of all the Sundays in all the years came and visited me at once. I remembered being small and standing beside my father in a big white beautiful church. Suddenly gratitude for years of being able to come and go through the motions overwhelmed me. I sang with so many voices, different even than ones I have sung with before, a small offering of praise. And God was finally big and I was finally small.

Here are a few fun pictures from our spring weather this afternoon. John Mac has spent hours in the sandbox with his cars and trucks the past few days. He loves it and comes inside an absolute mess. His older brother, on the other hand, will not even deign to play cars with him in the sandbox because he "doesn't want to get dirty".

And here is a shot I took of Hannah with her Daddy today. She is growing in personality every day! Today she pitched a fit when I left her in the nursery. She is nearing one and very much knows it.

Desitin Disaster

This is a picture from my day yesterday. I should have known this one was coming. This is my toddler who really likes lotion. He has done this previous times with sunscreen and juniper berry breeze lotion as well. (It was the juniper berry breeze that I found tipped over in the bathroom earlier this week.) Rest time was wonderfully quiet, but all good things come at a cost, don't they?

I found John Mac quite happy at the end of rest time and we quickly jumped in the bath and tried to scrub zinc oxide off of his body. It was tough, but not as hard as scrubbing the carpet. I think an item that is meant to protect your baby's bum from liquid is not easy to remove with a wet washcloth. This would all be a good laugh for me, if it had not happened to me before....This is a picture from spring four years ago when my oldest was just under two.

I should really know better by now; one must keep the Desitin up and out of reach. You notice the same joy that it brings? What a way to pass a naptime!

One of Those Moments....

When you have more than one child, you can easily have one of those moments. One of those moments where the slide frame freezes....everything is going wrong around you and you feel as if you are watching it powerlessly in slow motion. In our house, it usually means several children are crying at once. I had one of those moments today. It surprised me honestly. We were running on time, dressed and ready to go to school. Looking back, I do remember thinking that my oldest child felt a little warm this morning. On the way out the door, I got my first tip that the day might unravel on me. I went to get hair gel for my son whose hair was sticking up at a right angle despite a wet hairbrush approach and found a bottle of lotion on its' side, contents all over the shelf. (Is that why the boy's bathroom has been smelling so much better to me lately?). I left it. I was still on time, the hair was a little out of place, but we were moving forward. Two hours later, I am at the preschool co-op with three of my four children. I take my youngest two back to a room for snacks because the live trumpet player, (who was actually giving such an interesting history of brass instruments and showing us examples of instruments from the 1800s), was too loud for him and he was teary-eyed. (Did you get that...teary-eyed, so one disaster had already been averted.) We sat in the room with snacks and my two year old, recently potty-trained, suddenly announced he had to pee. We had just gone one hour prior, mind you. I race with him to the potty (not too far) to discover a tremendous soaking accident and leave an 11 mo infant crawling on the carpet. My two year old is SO WET. And is it SO COLD today. Of course, in bringing three snacks, a bottle with formula, two water bottles, diapers and wipes this morning, I did forget an extra change of clothes. We finish time at the potty to return to find baby sister trying to eat her brother's almonds and raisins. The two year old is now shaking and in tears as he hates wet pants. Can you blame him? And yet, when I announce not to worry, we'll head home and get pants....He cries and carries on even more loudly. Now the baby is looking bewildered. A few adults peek their heads in the door trying to understand why there is a toddler crying for his mommy when he appears to be standing right beside her. I load up the snacks, three coats, diaper bag to carry the baby in one arm while holding the crying toddler's hand. We cut through the graveyard to get to the car while my toddler continues to wail and scream that he wants Mommy and doesn't want to leave school. There is a fresh grave that we have to steer around and I remind myself not to do this again. It is cold. I buckle my now two crying youngest children into the car while mentally planning how to retrieve my four year old from the trumpet player performance. I decide to commit a small crime and lock my youngest two in the car while calmly running to get my 4yo. I walk to my 4yo, grab his hand and ask him to come with me. We make it out of the trumpet performance and then when I explain to him that we have to go home he begins to scream loudly. The door closes behind us just after he hits his loudest decibel. I am ushering him to the neglected children in the car when he begins to stomp his feet and scream "no, no, no" at me. I give him a swift tap on the rear and tell him to stop immediately. We make it into buckles when he begins to wail again and explain that he left his two favorite race cars in the classroom and would I please go and get them. Once again, I commit a small crime. I drive my car a little closer to the classroom door, lock everyone in, and sprint for two small cars: King and Lightning McQueen. (Side note here: What is my life? I am sprinting for racecars, not a heart attack?). I make it back with the cars in hand to hear crying most of the way home. I am trying to remain calm, mentally detached from the noise and chaos since I am powerless to make it any better at this point. We make it home and I get clean clothes for the toddler, food for the baby...things seem to be going better. Then my 5yo comes in from kindergarten. She is whiny and fussy and then cries uncontrollably with a small bump from her brother. What is this? She feels warm, and sure enough, she has a fever. The moment continues....

Who knew a day could so quickly unravel? Are these the small moments when my responses really matter? Are these the times that all add up to show me and my children what my heart really cares about? I am so numb right now I am not sure what I learned today except that loud noise always rattles me.

On a lighter note....here are some fun recent pictures from our house:

These are the boys sitting in school with their teacher, Caroline. They seem quite riveted, don't they?

Here is Caroline with her dinosaur hat on for Fun Hat Day at school. She chose this hat from an old ballet costume and it was a great pick. Everyone at school had on really interesting hats. She is great at thinking of new and different ideas and I just love to see what she comes up with when presented with a problem to solve.