why I'm not giving explanations for my three-year-old's behavior anymore

We had dinner with some friends tonight; it was last minute, a day following a string of a days that were less than fun, the house was turned upside down, and yet as if I were floating above the scene I watched the words "come on over!" leave my mouth. But i can't help it, talking to adults is so fun! And watching kids grow and learn and play together is something truly special. Of course my three-year-old had some less than glamorous moments, and I found myself feeling the urge to apologize to my friend, or to talk about how tired my daughter must be. And the more I think about it the more I'm hoping to stop explaining her behavior altogether, for a few reasons.


1. she's not (intentionally) being an asshole
Crazy right? The thought that we didn't come into this world knowing social norms and ques. The thought that at some point, we were just as ornery and selfish as our children. Yes, selfish. We are all born selfish. Do you think a newborn baby would cry when they were hungry or wet or in pain if they were considerate? No, they wouldn't. They are hungry, and so they need food and they need it NOW, even if it is 2am or the middle of your lunch date with a friend. I'm aware that my three-year-old isn't a newborn, but she's also not 13 or 23. She's becoming aware of others and how her actions affect them. She's discerning want vs need. So when she does things like take shoes off of her friend's feet AS SHE'S WALKING, I have to remember that she didn't do it maliciously. She wanted the shoes so she did what she has always done until this point; she went for what she wanted. But I don't treat it like an asshole move, instead we remove ourselves and discuss what was wrong with her actions without the use of proper nouns. Because her actions are not about who she did them to, they are about the fact that she did something that isn't ok. YES, you wanted those shoes so badly! The problem is when friends come over we share our toys. And also it can really hurt someone's body to take shoes off while they are walking.

2. giving excuses just excuses the behavior
It's always well intentioned; Sorry, she didn't get a nap today. Sorry, she didn't eat a very good lunch and is probably hungry. Sorry, she wanted to drink out of the red cup earlier but had to drink out of the blue cup so her emotional equilibrium is off balance. The truth is, she's just learning! Sure she might be tired, but learning to behave while tired is essential, and explaining it away gives her the impression that if there's an explanation, it must be acceptable. She's learning to use words both to describe what it is she wants and what it is she's feeling. To tell me that she doesn't like the blue cup because it drips all over her, or that she wants her lunch RIGHT NOW because her stomach hurts she's so hungry. This doesn't mean I don't heed warnings before making plans with friends (she hasn't been napping, it'll be a day with learning experiences!), or that when she communicates clearly yet rudely I don't correct the rudeness. What it does mean is that when she behaves in a way that isn't tolerable, I put the energy into correcting her, not explaining to the current company why I think she's behaving the way she is.

3. I don't want to set a precedent of apologizing for her actions
This kind of tags onto the last one, but it is possibly the biggest, most important reason for me. It's really hard for us as parents to believe, but our children's actions are not always a reflection of us and our parenting. Oh she didn't get another cookie and is crying; she must get whatever she wants at home.  No actually, she just wants another cookie, and can't quite navigate how to express that she wants one without tears. She also cries at home, but no she doesn't get another one.
It's hard to not feel responsible for their behavior when it's due to a missed nap, or to not feel embarrassed at the way they express their emotions when it makes you look like you can't control your child. But I'm not going to raise a child that expects me to apologize to her teacher when she's behind on schoolwork. Or asks me to explain how tired they were from their soccer game the night before. I will advocate for her fiercely, but apologizing is something she needs to learn to do for herself. It's sometimes scary, and more often than not "I'm sorry" can be hard to say. However it's humbling, and builds character, and is really, really important to be able to do. And really important that I remember to have her apologize, as I realize in this moment there was no apology for the shoe incident.


My point is, she's three and she'll likely do whatever she did another 15 times and we'll have another 15 talks where she repeats back to me what I say to her to make sure she heard it before it really, truly sinks in. And when it does sink in she'll surely catch me doing whatever it is that I have taught her not to do and if I'm lucky, she'll tell me kindly, and I'll get back some of the grace and understanding I've given her time and time again.

fail

I remember saying "I won't out the baby in bed with us". do you remember saying that? maybe you stuck to your guns. my guns turned into little dollar store water guns--the ones that don't even shoot water, their one and only purpose! we were holding strong, and then one day we didn't. and then we didn't again. and again. until one morning we woke up and realized there was practically a white flag flying above our bed post. we still try to get her down in her crib, but I end up tossing and turning until that hour, whatever hour it is, comes. then the second she gets plopped on the bed and cozies in it's lights out. for all of us! now I do wish we had a bigger bed. we have a full which I hear is crazy and small and too small for two people. what can I say, we're cuddly sleepers and this less than rich girl grew up on a twin, so a full is HUGE in my world! I never thought I'd be a fan of bed-sharing, not to mention I never, never thought Scott would be. let's just say he's president of the club and I'm vp. if he has a chance to cuddle with that baby he takes it and offers her my half of the bed. he's generous like that. and even if I don't get a particularly stellar night's sleep every single night, it doesn't get cuter than this. 

mama loves you, forever. 

being mama.

lately, liza has decided that after midnight or so she shouldn't be in her crib. but she doesn't want to be in our bed, laying there between us anymore either. she wants to be on my chest, wide awake, cuddling with her mama. every now and then i catch myself hoping "please, please, don't need me tonight". but every night when that hour hits, it's pure bliss; just liza and mama. it breaks my heart and warms it at the same time that she doesn't allow scott to hold her. i want her to love him and want to cuddle, but i want her to want me more. it's true. it's selfish, but it's absolutely true. the way she kicks her little feet when she sees me from across the room. the way she rests her head on my chest and drifts into sleep. the way she reaches for me when she gets sleepy and wants to cuddle. her little life gives mine meaning. as badly as i want to be her friend, i have to be her mother first. i want to see her grow into a person who doesn't give in to peer pressure. someone who sees someone getting picked on and stands up for them. the girl that boys like for her character, not because of the clothes that she's wearing, or not wearing. a person that knows who she is and is comfortable being her. you don't get those kids by being their friends. you get those kids by giving them responsibility, boundaries, consequences if they pass those boundaries, and lots and lots of unwavering love. at least i think that's how it happens. mine's only seven months old, but that's what my parents did and if you ask me this end product is golden ;) in all seriousness though, i hope i have the strength to be that mother. and the tenderness. to make sure she knows it's not my job to be her friend. it's my job to make sure she turns out to be a god-fearing, jesus-loving, compassionate human being. and i hope, i hope and pray that she knows my choice to be her mother, instead of her friend, is the greatest act of love. then, when she's grown into that person, we get to be friends. and hopefully if i do this right, the best.

she's the sweetest. and i'm the lucky one who has the honor of raising her. 

a weekend at the cabin

we spent the past weekend up the hill at a friends cabin. it was both scott and liza's first time staying at a cabin, and their first time in camp nelson! it was a great weekend; full of cards, sewing, walks, and giggles from a cute little babe. i ate five square meals, in a row AND with two hands. the wonder of grandparents! i didn't capture a picture of the moment, but i achieved a lifelong dream and ate an entire fried egg for the first time. they have always looked so delicious to me, and i've wanted so badly for so long to like them. however every time i took a bite my dreams shattered and it tasted, well, disgusting. but not this time! i'll admit it was not the absolute tastiest, but it was the best it had ever tasted so i ran with it. and now, some pictures!

i ordered some fabric so that i could sew over the weekend but it didn't come in time. but just as well, i can make leggings another time! but this...

...i couldn't miss those giggles. the crazy eyes, maybe. the giggles, no. 

the $15 yard sale steal. thanks, mom!

liza's first offroading!

at the end of our walk wee met the sweetest burrows. they were all about having their picture taken.

i can't wait to see how little vacations like this grow and change over the years. my favorite part about this one was liza's need to be snuggled up on me to sleep. i know that will eventually leave and she won't need my familiarity in an unknown place, so i soaked it up in all it's deliciousness. i mean. seriously. this girl.

be still my heart. i love you, elizabeth james.

a crying baby

word on the street is, naps are bad. at least this seems to be how my six month old feels. she screams {and i mean scream, not cry} at the top of her lungs whenever it comes time for this event. it's not just in the crib; it's in mama's bed too, or while being rocked, and in her swing, or with mama IN the crib. most days i just park it with her in the rocker, and hope that the crying will last a little shorter than the day before. my patience has grown to astronomical levels, while my heart has broken a thousand times over at the little pout her lips make. 

for some reason today seemed to be extra trying, and on the verge of tears myself i kept thinking, "i can't wait til you like to sleep. and can you be a genius baby that talks at seven months so you can tell me what's wrong?". but then it hit me: someday she's not going to be crying, she's going to be able to tell me exactly what i'm doing wrong, and then elaborate on it. she's not going to love seeing my face so much that she wants to stay awake instead of sleep. she's going to be running off to friends' houses and coming home to tell me how cool her friend's mom is, while asking me what on earth i'm wearing and letting me know how i could make it better. suddenly i was thankful for her inability to talk, i was warmed at the thought of her loving my presence so much she can't miss it for a second. and then, i gave in to the crying. she's growing so fast. i'm only going to be the coolest person for so long. and she's only a baby for an even shorter time. some days the fact that she doesn't want to nap make it feel like i'm failing. thankfully it's those days she decides to look me in the eyes and smile with hers. somehow once she does it i can't remember what her cry sounds like. 

we're not failing, mamas. just ask your baby.

real talk.

this is what my kitchen look like at the moment. and most likely for the next handful of moments as well. 

i love reading blogs. seeing how other people express themselves fascinates me; in words, clothes, food, crafts, design, etc. however i often find myself thinking "they eat like kings and queens every.single.night!" or "this woman must not own yoga pants, or perhaps she only uses them in the 'yoga' sense". but i don't think gourmet, from scratch is on the menu every night, and i'm positive every woman on earth wears yoga pants without yoga-ing in them. not that the world would ever know, and not that there is a problem in that. i realize that i have posted multiple pictures of my perfectly fluffed couches and pristine kitchen. after all, who wants to see pictures of dirty kitchens like above? but here's the deal:

my kitchen is full of dishes 90% of the time. and not because i cook every night, but because i cook every three nights and they simply sit there between the appearances of chef sophie. 

and that's the truth.

and just for laughs...

yes, this really truly happened this morning. the jacket was also on and i had to wiggle out to go pop the trunk. happy monday!

the donuts to end all other donuts.

i've made donuts at least a dozen times. not from scratch, no. the gloriously easy and equally delicious ones from grands biscuits. i think the fact that they are so easy makes them all the more delicious, and made in our house that much more often. but today when i woke up, after what was probably the longest night of sleep fighting ever {the baby, not me}, i decided to kick it up a notch. because i didn't want donuts, i wanted donuts covered in a glistening, mouth watering, chocolate glaze. if i hadn't earned them the night before i don't know that i ever would.

here's what you'll need:

 canola oil, grands buttermilk biscuits {i used the mini biscuits because that's what we had on hand, and because there's a lot less guilt when you eat the whole batch}, whipping cream, butter, powdered sugar, and chocolate chips.

{not pictured--vanilla extract}

///

begin by cutting holes is all your biscuits. i don't have any fancy means of doing this, i use a jumbo frosting tip! 

voila!

 pour some oil in a skillet and throw in a couple tablespoons of butter. because, it's butter and these don't stand a chance at resembling healthy. 

 test the heat with a couple of your donut holes. they should fluff up nicely when dropped in.

 next the big guys. don't they look so golden and buttery?

and while these beauties sit, we'll make the glaze!

start with 1/4c of whipping cream heating on the stove. i'm told this can also be done in the microwave but i have yet do accomplish the take without making an overflowing mess.

1/4c chocolate chips in the food processor.

when the cream is heated pour over chocolate chips. let sit just long enough to snap a picture.

blend. and boom! chocolate ganache. 

pour into a bowl that you can fit your hand into, as this is where you'll be dunking the donuts.

sift some powdered sugar into your chocolate. i'm guessing i did about a cup.

whisk. taste. this is where i decided a little vanilla was needed.

dunk donut into glaze. wiggle around.

repeat.

admire their sheen. soon the plate will be empty. 

pour yourself a cold glass of millk, and go to town.

please note that husbands appreciate when you save them more than one. i have learned this the hard way. also learned--a chubby baby hand makes any picture cuter.

happy saturday!