Opposites

Oh... sweet Knox.  You have yet again outdone yourself, my dear.  For those of you without little boys running around your house, I apologize ahead of time for the subject of this post.  But I couldn't help but share...

Yesterday afternoon when my mom picked Knox up from preschool, his teacher told her that she and the kids were talking about opposites.  She said that Knox was very excited to tell the opposites of the words she would say.  Then, during their discussion, Knox told her is very own opposite: "Boys have bobs and girls don't have bobs."  She wasn't quite sure what he was saying, so she asked him to repeat it and he did.  She asked him where his "bobs" were and he told her, "My bobs are right by my bootie."  Yes, ladies and gents, Knox was referring to his boy parts that hang down below his main boy part.  Brad so graciously taught him the term (you know, the one that rhymes with "halls") while giving him a bath not too long ago. 

Thank God Knox's teacher thinks he's funny.  And honestly, I think that's a pretty creative example of an opposite.

Love to y'all,
Tracy

Party of Six

This morning, I found a message in my Facebook inbox from a friend of mine that I haven't seen in probably over a year.  Like me, she is a grieving mom.  Her son, Patrick, died at about 18 months old after battling cancer for a long time.  She's been on this journey a few years longer than I have and is always so full of encouragement and understanding.  So when I saw that she'd written me, I was happy to hear from her. 

Here's her message:
Hi. I just wanted to tell you that I saw a pic you were tagged in today. It was a pic of you, Brad and the kids. Just the 5 of you and I thought (without thinking) "what a weird picture, there's only three kids in that picture. Why would they take a holiday picture like that without one of the kids?" Then my brain kicked in and I realized that, of course, there can only be three kids in the picture. Until today, even I didn't know how strong my mental picture of the Sievers is as a family of 6. I thought you might like knowing just how deeply that is ingrained in me. Sievers, party of 6. ;) hope you are all well. xo

She made my day.  She made my week.  Knowing that she sees us this way means so much more than I can write.  Sievers, party of six.  Thank you, sweet friend.

Love to y'all,
Tracy

Worst. Mom. Ever.

This evening was one of those nights when everything seems to cave in around you, you try to keep it all together, and then you just lose it.  Dinner time always seems to be a bit tricky in this house.  After all, three picky eaters is a hard thing to navigate even on a good day.  But when everyone is tired, including the mama, things don't seem to bode well for anyone.  

To make a really long story short, after calling everyone five times to sit at the table, constant complaints about what I made, and the boys picking on each other, Knox ended up totally refusing to eat one teeny, tiny bite of chicken and was told if he didn't eat his ONE "no thank you bite" (thanks Aunt Jill), he would have to go to bed.  All he had to do was eat that dang bite and I would've given him a bowl of cereal. (That's been the protocol around here for a long time - if they won't eat what's for dinner, they can take a few bites and then have a bowl of cereal - but that's it until morning).  So we waited and waited.  I even put it in his mouth for him, telling him not to spit it out.  But he did.  Soooo... into the bath he went and I tucked him in at 6:30.  

I don't know who was more upset about it.  I've heard it a million times before... "If you don't eat your dinner, you're waiting till breakfast."  But this is the first time I've had to actually follow through with it.  The threats are usually enough to make them take the few bits we're asking for.  But not tonight.  

I feel like a crappy mom.  My baby went to bed with no dinner.  Nothing in his little tummy.  What kind of mom does that?  If it's supposed to make him realize that I mean what I say, I hope it's worth it.  Cause I don't like how it makes me feel.  

This is hard week for me... Nash's fifth birthday would be on Tuesday, the 15th.  And all I could think about tonight amidst the threats and raised voices and crying kids was that I am a terrible mommy for not just letting it slide.  When do you stick to your guns and when do you not?  All I want is for my kids to be happy.  What I wouldn't give to have Nash at our table, making it FOUR picky kids, whining about what I made.  

Putting Knox in bed tonight, my heart was so heavy.  As a mom, I know I need to teach my kids to respect authority and follow directions.  But tonight, it was so much more difficult than it is most days.  All I wanted to do was scoop him up and hold him and make him his dang mac'n'cheese.  But I didn't.  Instead, I scooped him up and held him and tucked him in his bed.  

I love these babies more than I could possibly explain. I know I did the right thing tonight... I think.  But my heart is hurting.  I often have this dilemma between being the grieving mom - who just wants her kids to be happy, and the responsible mom - who tries to teach her kids the right way to be.  Usually, the responsible mom comes out on top, with only minimal fight.  But tonight was a real battle.  And although the responsible mom won, the grieving mom is taking it pretty hard.  

Love to y'all,
Tracy

Growing Up

With the start of a new year, I'm proud to say that each of my three kids has come up with resolutions of their very own... well, sort of.  

Brady officially had her very last bottle last night before bed.  She's been down to one bottle for months now, and hasn't ever needed it to go to sleep.  But thinking about my very last child with their very last bottle made me a little sad.  So I was putting it off.  I was glad that she let me hold her a little bit while she drank it, but it made me sad too.  She's growing up way too fast.  

My sweet Knox has hit a big milestone over the past few weeks: he's been asking me to use the potty many times throughout the day.  I haven't even brought up the subject of potty training, but I guess it's inevitable when he's banging on the bathroom door, yelling, "Let me in!  I gotta go potty!"  And then minutes later, emerges to tell his grandma, "That was a HOOOOOOGE turd!"  So we officially started a couple days ago and he's only had one accident.  The biggest problem he's having is that he doesn't like the feeling of underwear (keeps saying, "These feel CRAZY.") and he only goes like twice a day.  But we're working on it.

And last but not least, my big Tater.  There's not a lot of things that Tate doesn't pick up easily.  He's just always been really coordinated and lucky in that way.  But there is one thing that he has not been able to figure out until literally a few days ago... ready for this?  I'm proud to announce that Tate can now blow his nose!!!  Okay, okay, so it seems silly, I know.  But seriously, y'all, I was about to sign him up for some nose blowing tutoring sessions or something.  It was comical to watch him concentrate so hard, take a deep breath, and then blow the air out of his mouth over and over again.  We've been working on this for like four years.  Switch hitting, riding a two wheeler, or tying his shoes are pieces of cake compared to his biggest arch nemesis... the kleenex.

Happy New Year to y'all,
Tracy