Generalizations are not my Strongsuit

Apparently I’m really good with other people’s kids, too.

On Sundays at Church, I do singing time with the primary kids (3-11 year olds). I also do a lesson to go with the song so that they get more meaning out of it. That way they aren’t just listening to an hour of cheesy piano music, plunking through a Bluetooth speaker.

The song we sang the last Sunday was “I’ll Walk with You,” which is very WWJD about being kind to people who are different. Super cute. Go find it on YouTube. So, the kids and I talked about loving people who walked/talked/looked/etc. differently. Their differences were what made them special and beautiful, all good things. 

Then Mama Bear Rachel kicked in. We somehow got onto the subject of even loving the kids in school who are mean to us. Instead of keeping it light and happy, like a normal person, I explained what a bully was and made the kids promise to never be one. We talked about how we should try to be kind to bullies when we stand up to them. THEN, I shared that I gave my kids permission to use a three strikes rule. If they tell a bully to stop pushing them around (and tell the grownup in charge) without the desired outcome, then they are allowed to push/hit/kick/whatever back. I followed up by saying they shouldn't do that without their parents' permission. But no one is ever allowed to touch them, and not defending themselves is NOT what Jesus meant when He said to love everyone. 

I unintentionally turned primary into a body safety PSA. I may or may not get replaced.

Sharing is Wearing

I know you guys can't tell from my winning personality, but I have a major flaw: I don't like to share food. I like making cookies and distributing them to others, I like making dinners that everyone gets a serving of, I like making individual sandwiches for my kids when we go on picnics so they have their own, yadda yadda. What I don't like, is when people take food off my plate. A bite of my burger. A sip of my milkshake. A gulp from my water bottle. It's just gross.

I already make my kids individual breakfasts/lunches/dinners, as they never want to eat the same thing at the same time. I don't care about that anymore, as long as they are getting some dang calories in that don't involve Dairy Queen as their sole food group. After I gave them their respective orders, I heated up the last slice of leftover pizza for myself. 

You know what they both did? Basically in unison: "Oh! Is that pizza??" Both pushed their plates away, "I don't want this, I want pizza instead. Please?" I split it in half and gave it to both of them, then I went to the corner and cried into some hard boiled eggs. I mean, I explained as I did it that they could have my pizza because I loved them. But it wasn't fair, and it wasn't nice of them to completely reject what they asked for and then take my food. It was less "You stole my pizza, I hate you" and more "You wasted my time and your food that that is wrong." Because that's a much better, less selfish lesson to teach them.

They didn't even eat the dang pizza. Or anything else for that matter. Eden took one bite out of her slice, proclaimed that she was full, and skipped off to play. Michael left the table and all of his food completely untouched. I very much made him sit back down and eat that half slice. He only ate the crust and gave the cheese and pepperoni to the dog! Some people just want to watch the world burn.

I'm convinced this is why moms binge late at night after the kids are in bed. It might be Ben and Jerry's in the floor in front of the freezer, instead of a well balanced meal. But at least no one else is there demanding a lick of our spoon...and then the rest of the pint.

All Road Trips are Like This Now

Can someone please help me figure out how to travel with two kids under five without needing Mary Poppins on speed dial? We traveled to a wedding this weekend, and let me tell you. There’s nothing like traveling with kids that reminds you why you don’t like traveling with kids.

I LOVE my kids, so don't come at me, bro. But they are also the reason I grocery shop after a 5am workout while they're still asleep. And why I have the Walmart pickup app saved under "favorites." And why I buy non-perishables off of Amazon Prime (not sponsored, but hit me up, AP!).

I came prepared for this four-to-six hour car ride, you guys. I packed books. I brought their lovies. I packed their fancy little bento boxes full of veggie straws, fruit snacks, popcorn, and those really good chocolate chip granola bars. I didn't even TRY to pack something healthy that I knew would rot in the car over the weekend. My husband even brought their pillows like a true MVP, because they are adorably weird and like to have them on their laps "just in case." 

Within the first two hours, both kids started crying, because they didn’t like the music. Then the music they wanted was too loud. Then Michael complained, because Eden was “singing annoying." They also had to go pee like three times. Turned out "go pee" actually meant "buy another juice with Peppa Pig on it and more $4 individual bags of Doritos." Big surprise that they weren't hungry when we headed to the rehearsal dinner.

The wedding was beautiful, or so I heard. I had to take Eden to our hotel room, because she tried to tackle the flower girl mid-aisle walk. She wanted to take a turn with the poor child's flower crown. Both Michael and Eden tore up that dance floor, though. I was super proud. They both pretended to know all the dances the grownups were doing. Thank you, grownups, for not twerking. Michael danced with the flower girl like a boss, and she was all about it. Well, she was all about it until he tried to dip her at the end of a song. That was a little too much for her.

When we finally made it home, Michael and Eden very pleasantly surprised me and helped me put their clean clothes away! We ended a pretty stressful-but-great weekend with video games and cuddles. And with with Eden peeing all over me and the couch in her sleep. I will cherish these memories as soon as I can get a professional to get the pee out of all of my furniture.