Mama confessions #10

I hide the toys that light up and make noise. I told people not to buy them for us, because I didn't want them cluttering up our house and my brain with their horrible electronic renditions of nursery songs... GAH. Anyway, that might make me a mean mom, but whatever, I'll take the ridicule along with my sanity, thank you.
Even still, there are a few that found their way into our house, and I hid them in the far back corner of the closet. I hid them so that I could take them out on days like... yesterday.
After a hard run I was so tired and so exhausted and so in need of a shower. And Sam was being so sad and so clingy and so if-you-put-me-down-you-will-regret-it. So I set him down in his crib [screams] and fished that little blinking singing piano toy out of the closet and handed it to Sam [more screams]. Then I pushed the little button and it started blinking and singing [awe-filled silence]. And he sat silently pushing the button over and over again for the next 15 minutes while I took a bubble bath in the next room and tried to ignore polly-wolly-doodle-all-day spewing forth from the new 'magic' toy.
And that is why I hide the noise making light up toys; Because sometimes Mama needs a little magic up her sleeve to make it through those days. Woe is me the day my son is de-sensitized to the magic. But for today, the magic is hidden away for another desperate moment.

Daddy's Rhymes

Z started reciting nursery rhymes to Sam the other night during his bath. I listened quietly for a few minutes, then encouraged him to continue... well, becuase it was just so darn entertaining. Here are a few nursery rhymes, Z style:

"Slickery, dickory dock.
Alice jumped off the clock.
uh... Bat mobile lost a wheel.
Or something. The end."

"Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet,
eating... I don't know, cottage cheese? I think.
The wolf came down, and passed it around.
uh... 98 bottles of beer on the wall."

"Old mother Hubbard sat in her cupboard...
whats this even about? I don't know." 
 
He would laugh after each one, and eventually I would tell him the correct words to the nursery rhymes, and he would usually respond, that's kind of terrible. Which he's right. Nursery rhymes are disturbing mostly. So maybe we'll just stick with Z's versions.
Tell me our kid is going to have a normal childhood. :)

Crunch

Cookie Monster

There's this episode of the office when Micheal Scott goes to the accountant to find out the financial status of the Michael Scott paper company. Upon receiving bleak news, he asks the accountant to 'crunch those numbers again', and the accountant is all-- 'It's a computer program, it's not gonna change anything...' and Michael says, 'Just crunch them again!' And Pam steps in-- 'He just wants you to make the sound'
So the accountant pushes a button on this keyboard and says 'crunch' and then they all look hopeful and Michael asks 'any change?'
No.

I kinda feel like Michael Scott in this scene when I look at our bank account.
Just crunch those numbers again-- maybe it will look different.
It's in a bleak state right now. And I know that we are blessed and have so much, and we have family helping us so that we can do this right now. I cannot and should not complain. We are blessed.
But I want to cry every time I look at the bank account-- every time I 'crunch' those numbers-- and know that we don't have money for groceries this week. Every time I crunch the number and I report to my husband-- hey, no spending money this week-- but it's the same report every week and it's frustrating that even though we will 'be good' and not spend a dime-- our account will still overdraw before the next paycheck hits. Every time I crunch those numbers and the number is red. Always red. Never black.

 And we are taken care of and we have plenty to eat and we are getting by-- by the grace of God and generosity of others. But it's humbling and frustrating and tiresome to worry over those numbers that never crunch in our favor.

The last few months have been the worst, but even as we've hit the bottom, there's a small hopeful light. I mean, it's SMALL. But it's there. September marks our last payment on all the hospital bills from last December. The last one. Once that is paid off... we can roll (most of*) that monthly payment into knocking out these student loans one at a time. It still seems overwhelming, but it will be exciting to have completely paid off that first debt.
*I say most of-- because some of those funds I would really like to use to pay for at least a portion of our own groceries.

In the mean time, we are trying to be creative about using our talents and resources to add to the family budget. Like... I have some home-canned organic pears and applesauce for sale-- if anyone is interested. We are selling and/or consigning excess... like some drum equipment, and a bunch of Sam's clothes. I am hoping also to sell some little boy bowties and suspenders that I make at various holiday/craft fairs this season. And of course Z is picking up as many extra hours at work as he can.

So I know we are on our way, but this financial season has been a tough one for me. I am learning about trusting God, humility, and that green monster of greed and discontent that can disguise himself so innocently. And then my little miracle bats his lashes and bright blue eyes sparkle at me, melting me. And say have to say thank you, God. Thank you for right where we are. Thank you for where we've come from, and where you are leading us to.
And thank you for blessing and caring for us. Thank you for your perfect way-- that so rarely looks like our way-- of 'crunching' those numbers in our favor.

Mama Confessions #9

Sam found the Dog's toy box today.
Obviously, I don't want my child playing with the dogs toys.
But upon further inspection of Sam's new obsession... I decided that I am a pretty lousy dog mom. The toy basket consisted of several chewed up plastic water bottles, a destroyed frisbee, a tangle of yarn, and a service bell. Sigh. No wonder the dogs are obsessed with the kid's toys.
We do occasionally purchase real toys for our dogs, but Charlie could care less, and Winston completely obliterates them within 30 seconds. But he really enjoys and savors a water bottle when he can sneak one... so whatever. The service bell they used to ring when they wanted to be let out, but now we have a dog door, so that was just tossed in the basket, and the yarn? I have no idea.
So anyway, excellent and safe toys. Pointy, chewed up, plastic stuff and Sam is fascinated. And the dogs are much too happy to share.
Sigh.