It's raining, it's pouring....

We've had a lot of snow and rain this winter. Last night, it started snowing/sleeting as it was getting dark. By late last night, the road conditions were changed to red, which means mission essential only (I snark at that term, but that's another post). So the phone tree was activated last night to tell everyone to check road conditions before heading to work in the morning. When I headed to bed around 1, there was a light, freezing rain falling.

During the night, the temperature increased and by 5 am, road conditions were changed to amber which means, haha! you have to come to work anyway. Poor R - he said it was a nasty drive. By 10 am, all the snow and sleet had melted and it had actually stopped raining. I had a movie to return (Fireproof - highly recommended!!) so I muscled the kids into the car and off we went. By the time we got back, we had about 30 minutes before the bus came for T, so we played outside.

T immediately got on his bike and rode through the puddle. S decided to stop through the puddle. I thought about trying to force her boots in her feet and decided that I wasn't up for that particular fight today since she'd already thrown a fit about waffles, juice, and outfits. So I just let her splash around in the water.

As I was thinking, 'I sure hope she doesn't fall' guess what she did? She fell - SPLAT - belly flop into the puddle. (I keep saying puddle, but it's more like a teeny weeny pond. I'll try to take a picture.) She got soaked from her bangs to her toes. Her coat, which is a kind of Berber material, absorbed a ton of water. She got up, dripping wet, crying at the coldness and shock of it all. I grab her and dash inside to change her wet clothes. It all has to come off - from coat to socks. All soaking wet. Poor S, her lips are turning blue. We get her clothes changed and trooper that she is, she wants to go back outside. Okay. I get her into dry socks and clothes and a coat. Problem is, she needs to wear her boots but the last time we tried that, she pitched a 30 minute fit and refused to move. So, I carefully pull out her boots and say - want to wear these? Holy crow! She nods. We put the boots on her feet and I hold her hand as she starts to walk in them. Yay S!!!!!

So we are back outside. T gets off his bike and holds her other hand and we walk her through the puddle. Water! she shouts gleefully. Water!!! Soon she's stomping (albeit more carefully) through the puddle like a champ and then she gets on her little scooter and rides through the water like her big brother. I'm so glad that she's wearing boots while secretly wondering why it took a belly flop to get her to do it. And while I don't have the answer, I know that Miss S, resident diva, is more than likely only going to do things when she's good and ready. Lord help us all.

I'm out of my league already

So, two weeks ago, I had a serious conversation with God. I found myself yelling at the kids way more than I was comfortable with, and it was having the opposite effect of what I was trying to achieve. Instead of making them listen or behave or do what I wanted, it just made them louder and more defiant. So in this talk with God, I admitted all the things that I knew of that I was doing wrong and threw in a miscellaneous category for anything I had not realized or had forgotten. I asked for help because I'm obviously not doing great on my own.

Since then things have slowly but steadily gotten better. This morning, however, the kids are not listening well and I've found myself struggling a couple of times to remain calm and act like the grownup I should be instead of the teenage brat I often feel like. The kids have both been in time out at least twice before 10 am. That's usually not a good sign.

So after they had lunch, we were in the living room playing and T reaches out and kicks at S. This has to be the 15th time I've caught him doing this this morning. As I put him (calmly) in time out again and explain that we don't kick, hit, pinch, punch, slap, smack, push, shove, head butt, manhandle, or commit any other type of physical aggressiveness or bodily harm, S saunters over to T in the time out area to aggravate him. (sigh) As I'm removing S from the situation, T looks up and says, "Hey, hey, hey....this isn't your problem." I have to bite my lip and turn away to keep from laughing.

The many uses of Cheerios

Most kids eat cheerios. My kids...sigh...decided on Friday to dump an entire box of them on T's bed and stomp them into oblivion. Interestingly enough, crushed Cheerios resemble sand - it gets everywhere and is nearly impossible to completely remove.

To my credit, I did not lose my temper or yell - which has to be a first for this level of destruction - but I did make the kids clean it up. S, of course, refused on principle so she got put to bed early for her nap and for bedtime. Poor T...but he knew better. He's so tall now that he can reach the stuff on top of the fridge if he stands on a chair. I'm not ready for that, especially since that's where we put all the stuff we don't want them to reach and they know it.