Something New

It's time. And I'm a little sad about that. I'm officially moving over to www.marianfrizzell.com. I hope you'll come join me there. There's a link at the bottom of the new home page where you can sign up for my newsletter and get my blogs straight to your email. It won't be quite the same as inkblotcoffee, but hopefully it'll be better. As a teaser, there are three new blogposts ready and waiting for you.

Thank you for joining me here for these few last years. We've had a great run.

Onward and upward,

Marian

Loudsystem Soundspeaker

During her last visit, my sister had this beautiful moment of malapropism when she coined the phrase "loudsystem soundspeaker". I told her upfront that I was planning to steal it from her, and then she went and used it before I did--and made fun of me in the process for getting there first, which, fair...I deserved that--but now, here I am, putting my own spin on her loudsystem soundspeakerery.

To kick us off, some of you may be wondering what is going on with the book I told you about last month. Well, I'm sending out queries to literary agents right now, which means I kind of feel like the persistent widow playing a slot machine. In an effort to not feel like everything is a matter of luck, I am doing what I can on my end.

First off, I took what feels like an overwhelming step (but probably isn't) and joined an online writing community. Hopefully, that effort pays off. We shall see.

Second, I'm trying to fine tune my query and practice talking about my book so I don't sound like a complete idiot, and I'm sending it out to beta readers (who aren't related or married to me) to I can get feedback and make some improvements. And they are giving some pretty decent feedback--by which I mean, heart emojis and telling me that they blowing through the chapters in between basketball practice and games. 

Third, and this may affect you as a reader, I'm working on revamping my blog. It's been a few years, and it's time for a spruce up. Don't expect any huge changes yet, because I work like I'm swimming through molasses most days (five kids! teaching! still writing! where does all the time go!) but know that's in the works. 

Fourth, I'm also working on setting up a newsletter to better serve you guys. I know many of you currently get my blog in your email, which is awesome, but the way blogger has that set up, I have no idea how many of you are on that list or who you are (I kid you not--this is a legit problem). However, again, I am a turtle, swimming slowly upstream against a relentlessly punishing current. Even better, I am a slug, inching my way--no!--millimetering my way up the side of Mount Everest. I will get there when I get there. And when I do, my sanity will still be intact. Well, intact-ish.

In the process, I'm spending a lot of time thinking about who you are, oh favorite of readers, and what you need to hear, what I'm passionate about and what I'm already writing about and where those intersect, what I'm capable of offering that you're not going to get anywhere else and how I can make that fun to read about. I'm also figuring out instagram (thank you to all who found me there--you are the best), and I actually got on goodreads, though it will take me longer than life to actually update all the books I've read. And I'm continuing to read good books that help me think and engage in good conversations that help me think and process and grow. Because that makes me happy. And because then I have good book suggestions to hand out when you guys tell me you need something new to read.

But while I am still in this (long) moment of transition, feel free to weigh in and be a part of this process. If you have something you need me to know or remember, get on your loudsystem soundspeaker (that would be the comment section or a quick email or phone call) and let me know. We don't write into a black hole of nothing, and no one exists in a vacuum, etc., etc., etc.  Also, I kind of like you guys. And I like hearing what you have to say.

So that is the update for that. I'm not promising that the next post will be coming from the new blog, although that would be exciting, but I am telling you--don't go poking around in the nether regions of the internet trying to find what I'm working on. It's not done yet! And I'm hoping it'll be worth the wait!

Novel Means New

I did a thing this last year. 

Well, really, this last year and a half. I wrote a novel, a big fat novel, that, according to my sister, is engaging enough to make you want to keep reading at night even when you're off doing water projects and flipping your car upside down on sub-Saharan roads and that, according to my husband, is great if you need something to keep yourself entertained on a six hour flight across America while you're trying to block out the fact that your then-six year old twins are behind you eating all their Christmas candy in one sitting. Naturally, my sister and my husband are experts in the field, so you can trust them explicitly.

Now, the problem with having written a novel is two fold. First, I have to find a literary agent and a publisher so that at some point I can actually fulfill my life-long dream of seeing a book that I wrote on a shelf in a bookstore...and not because I put it there to make myself feel better about life. Second, it turns out that I am really terrible (I mean, really terrible) about talking about my book. I make it sound incredibly boring. And I promise you that it's not. I'm just horrible at selling things. Which is why I never went into retail. And why our RV still hasn't sold.

So I'm over here doing my level best to email literary agents and try to pretend that I'm not a sad and pathetic saleswoman and they do really want to read my book, but one of the things I keep seeing encouraged on all these websites is the building of a platform (that means you!), and my platform at present is pretty small. So, I'm doing another thing. 

I'm actually getting on Instagram. For real this time, not just to look at a book cover from an author I like and then pretend that I was never there for the next four years.

I picked Instagram because a writing group that I follow is hosting a one week writers challenge starting Monday. And I'm telling you about it because I can't do this thing called "building a platform" without people like you (which I've already mentioned). This means that, without you, my chances of getting my book into a bookstore near you are a lot slimmer.

So if you would like to read my book one day, may I ask you to do a couple things? One, keep reading my blog. I can't tell you how encouraging it is when I see that you guys are reading what I am writing (comments are an extra bonus). If it makes it easier for you, sign up for it to come straight to your inbox. If you've already done that and somehow the emails aren't showing up, yell at me, and I will try to fix it. But yell at me nicely. Two, if you haven't followed my writers page on Facebook, I would love it if you would. It makes me look so pretty and popular. That's a movie reference probably only my sisters will get and the rest of you will think I am totally full of myself. Three, if you are an instagrammer, you can find me easily as @marianfrizzell. There is literally one photo on there right now (that I only posted so that I could write this blog), but this will change soon! I promise.

Now, a couple addendums. If you like me but don't like my writing, I feel you, man. Some days I am totally there with you. Do it for the love of the children. You can delete my emails unread, ignore my blogposts entirely, scroll right past whatever I post on instagram--and still feel good about yourself because you are helping support my crazy dream. On the other hand, if you neither like me or my writing, wow, I am so impressed that you read this far! Also, I won't offer to change your mind, but I can sit with you in solidarity as there are days I also neither like myself nor my writing, so: SAME. But my offer to you is to follow me anyway so that one day you can go buy my book at a bookstore (or get it at a library) and read it and laugh hysterically about how bad it is and how ridiculous the publishing industry must be to have ever published it. And then you can still feel good about yourself too. Win win.

In the meantime, I will be over here, continuing to get up at obscenely early hours (and falling asleep mid conversation with the Man around nine pm every night) so that I can do something that makes me feel like myself and that hopefully will bring others joy or give a needed truth  or just a laugh at the right moment. Any of those would be a win in my book. 

On that note, may we keep making small choices together to encourage one another and to make our world (touched by our own small circle of influence) and our year (built moment by moment) a little better for all of us who live in it together.

Get After It

post-run coffee and inspiration

This morning, after my run, I sat down with one of the Man's motivational coffee mugs that informed me that I needed to "Get After It". I tried to convince the coffee cup that Getting Up in the morning and Getting Out for a run was enough Getting for one day. But no, the coffee cup informed me, my loyal readers needed me to step up my game and try for what has now become my once monthly blog posting. Said coffee cup also informed me that I should probably answer a couple dozen text messages I've been avoiding, finish the laundry, and homeschool my children (like a boss). Luckily for me, the aforementioned coffee cup was almost large enough to hold an entire French Press worth of coffee so at least it provided back up for its inspiration.

This kid needs no help motivating her way to crazy

Tiny showing the rest of us how to get it done
(also like a boss).

Here's the problem with motivational coffee mugs, though. They don't take into account actual real life circumstances. Like when you spend all day telling your kids to do the same things they have to do every day...and still have to repeat yourself five trillion times. Or when actually answering text messages just causes people to respond to your answers so that you then have to answer more text messages. Or when you're so tired that you have to take a cat nap in the trunk of the car between unloading groceries. Not that I've ever done that...

Bruiser's wild and wonderful imaginings.
Can't imagine what he would create if I gave him coffee...
Or a motivational mug...

It's in those moments that we chuck the motivational coffee mugs and give ourselves a little grace. Just make sure you drink the coffee first. Because then, after you have extended yourself some grace, you have the energy to try again to rise to the occasion. And take on the world. Or just, you know, Get After It. Side note: I'm no longer completely sure what that phrase means but it seems like something I should tell myself on repeat (in between repeating "Nothing should be in your mouth but food or your toothbrush" and "If you're done with that, put it away").

Littles was inspired to create pizzadillas last week.
Best stroke of genius ever.

Not sure what motivated me more to change this kid's diaper:
her absolutely adorable smile,
the fact that she brought me a diaper and the wipes unasked,
or the terrifying reek emanating from her hind quarters.

Today, though, I thought you'd like to help me create our own list of motivational coffee mugs, ones that are more grounded in real life and less in sounding cool. I'll get us started. Here are a few ideas that could help someone you know get through their day with more success:

• Just Say "No" To Socializing
• Read More Books. Ignore More People.
• Hide in the Bathroom
• Naps Are For Winners
• Coffee Gets Cold. To Do Lists Don't.

Feel free to add your own in the comments section. Remember: we want to inspire other people but not forget that they are actual human beings whose supply of chocolate and sanity may be running low. So go on now: get creative or just...get after it.

Another motivation mug message:
Kiss a Crabby Baby

Word Power

Words have power. We all know that. This time of year, especially, the focus is heavy on the messages we tell ourselves while we consider what we are grateful for (confession: I obviously drafted this before Thanksgiving).

Our family has been counting God's gifts to us by writing them on a Gratitude Pumpkin this week (that's about my level of holiday crafting). I've been surprised by how much the kids have gotten into it, although there has been a certain amount of naming off whatever random objects Tiny's eyes light on. I finally had to start asking the kids why they were grateful for things before sharpie-ing them onto the Pumpkin. I drew the line at writing on "TV stand".

The Pumpkin sits on our kitchen table the rest of the day, and the kids have fun spinning it around looking for their favorite items on the list. Bee wants to find her sister's name every time. Littles wants to find his entry for "moon songs" (it's a long story). And Tiny consistently wants whatever is written immediately next to whatever Littles is looking at so that they can fight over who gets which side of the Pumpkin. It's been fun to not only write out what we're grateful for, but then to get to talk about it as the week progresses. Fighting aside.

Last week I also indulged myself in a little bit of artistic word power, by painting one of my favorite biblical blessings on our entry wall (which refuses to accept nails, screws, or any alternative ways to hang artwork). I enjoyed my time painting, but I've loved even more getting to talk to the kids about what the words mean and being reminded of what really matters as I go through my daily routines (specifically mounds of laundry and adventures in twin potty training). It is good to remind myself that God's peace is with me as I mop up pee puddles.

I've been thinking a lot about the narratives we tell ourselves since we found out I was pregnant again. After the initial shock, I felt the need to apologize and to explain. I hated that everybody "didn't know the whole story". It then became hard to let go of my need to tell everyone the Whole Story. One of the ways that I came to terms with our new reality was to reframe the narrative for myself. Instead of seeing baby number 5 as just another surprise baby, I started thinking about her as a bonus baby. In my mind, I told myself that this was similar to an opportunity for extra credit points on a project or the chance to work overtime for double the pay. For some odd reason, that made it more fun for me. We're having a Bonus Baby!

Regardless, I want to challenge myself daily to think about the narrative that I am telling myself and others. Does my story sound like this: I'm already floundering with four kids. How in the world am I going to handle another? Or like this: Our kids are so much fun, we get to have another! Am I allowing myself to stay in the frustrations of the moment or looking for the things for which I can say thank you? Am I letting myself by overwhelmed by the tyranny of the urgent or trying to remind myself of truth while dealing with those still definitely urgent items (there is pee on the floor here, people!)?

Our words may not change our reality but they truly can shift the way we deal with said reality. I hope that when I pick the truth I tell myself and others that I pick a truth that encourages and challenges over a truth that disheartens and weakens.

{The pictures of the kids are from July. I never shared them, and now months later, thought you'd enjoy them along with us.}

The Dandelion

Last week we raised the question of why dandelions are the official flower of the military child. Here's the answer for you:

source unknown

I'm calling the tie for Shirlee's answer: 

"Because a dandelion is exactly all those things, bright and bold to the eye, strong and resilient to the elements in which it is dealt, soft and tender to touch."

and McKinzie's:

"I'm guessing the wind blowing them has something to do with the dandelion as flower of the military child."

So, ladies, you get to pick my next couple blog topics! Speak now or forever hold your peace. Also, asking that I not blog at all is definitely an option (pick that one! pick that one!--then I'll take the week off and do nothing but read novels!).

Here's to our dandelion military children! Too many exclamation points!

Not Just When the Bee Stings

It's been a fun day (there were naps!), and I would like to acknowledge that by sharing a few of my favorite things. And then I have big plans to eat a bowl of ice cream, take a hot bath, and read--because it's Thursday night (which means it's practically the weekend) and half the family is out at a baseball game.

So, a few of my favorite things:

• The Sound of Music--duh. But not the part after "Sixteen Going on Seventeen" when Leisl says "Wheeeee!" because she looks terrifyingly witch-like.
• The new name for the Suburban. Do you remember how much fun we had trying to come up with a name for the suburban after we got it? For quite a few weeks it was the Great White Beast, but that always felt a little long. Then a couple months ago, Bruiser started referring to it as "The Burban"--and it stuck. The Man and I enjoy our snide little jokes about wanting to go get in the Burban after a long day, and it never gets old! We also like the looks we get in public when Bruiser pleads desperately to go get in the Burban. Parents of the year, I tell you!
• Mr Brown Can Moo by Dr Seuss--I know I write about children's books a lot--primarily because they are awesome--but this may be one of my all time favorites right now. Here's why: it's one of the only things in life that can get Bruiser to sit down and be quiet. I don't know what it is about Mr Brown, but when he whispers like a butterfly, miracles occur. Namely, the miracle of Bruiser using an inside voice.
• My library! I checked email on my way out the door tonight to walk the dog with the twins and found that the library had 3 books on reserve for me. I rerouted our walk, tied the dog out front of the library, and ran in and grabbed said books, sans ID because I'm there so often the library people recognize me before I even get through the double doors. It made me happy. So for the record, my library is one of my favorite things, but also Trigger who waited patiently while I ran in, and the twins who were very congenial about the whole thing even though they had no choice since they were strapped into the stroller and I'm the adult.
• Dividing and conquering: the Man took the boys tonight ,and I kept the twins. It was amazing. And I loved it. Twins sans big boys actually pick up their toys, cheerily. There is ten times less whining and hitting and screaming simply because there are half the children competing for my attention. I don't have to hold my temper with the big boys while I'm already holding it with the twins. Amazing, I tell you! The Man and I try to split up the kids fairly regularly so they get a little more one-on-one time, and every time we do: it. is. worth. it.
• April is the Month of the Military Child, and military children are one of my favorite things. I have four of them, and I've known hundreds. These kids are, for the most part, resilient, well rounded, selfless, and generous with their hearts. A large portion of them fall into a group of kids referred to as Third Culture Kids, who are also near and dear to my heart.  The military kid's official flower is the dandelion. If you can tell me why, I'll let you pick my next blog topic. Seriously.

This bee didn't sting, but according to Bee, it was taking the pollen home for breakfast.

Sometimes we count favorite things "when the dog bites and the bee stings", and sometimes we count favorite things as an act of courageous celebration. These are a few of mine. Care to share a few of yours?

Cross Training

The Man sometimes worries that he's failing me as a running coach because he hasn't helped me implement any cross training. He envisions time for me on a bike (stationary, of course) or in the pool or on an elliptical (which is no fun because you don't see anything and you can't read simultaneously). I told him that I do cross train, and he laughs because doesn't this sound like cross training to you:

• Stairs while carrying between 30 and 60 pounds, 30 for a solo twin and 60 for both, plus whatever paraphernalia they are dragging with them (sippies! books! stuffed animals! cars that will slip through your fingers four steps down, land emphatically on your bare toes, and then trip you on the bottom step!).
• Walking all over base to chase an escapee dog while either pushing a stroller (60 pounds again) or carrying someone in an Ergo while breaking your back to hold hands with the other someones.
• Playing soccer with kid number 1 while carrying kid number 3 and simultaneously pushing kids number 2 and 4 on the swing. Balance, weight lifting, and aerobic exercise!
• Kitchen dancing--because of course.
• House cleaning. Remember back in the day when people just lived normally to stay fit because they didn't need to go to a gym and purposefully sculpt each separate ab in their six pack? Also, back then they didn't use machines to do everything. I totally hand wash my jeans so... yeah.  Lastly, my six pack wears stretch marks. Moving on.
• Speed everything: speed toy picking up, speed bed making, speed dishwasher loading and unloading, speed homeschooling. I have competitive children, and everything is a race. This should totally count.
• Trying to plank with children sitting on your back and then giving up because you can't stop laughing and then giving everyone horsey rides instead.
• Carrying a huge bag full of library books back and forth from the library at least once a week.

Anyway, it may not be the typical definition of cross training, which normally runs something along the lines of "training in two or more sports to improve physical fitness and performance" (don't quote me on that), but I definitely qualify motherhood as an extreme, full body, endurance sport that can also be qualified under "contact sport" and sometimes even "combat sport". It is not, however, competitive, which is lucky for me because I'm pretty sure having your kids bail on nap time two days in a row would dock points--and I really don't like losing.

Tiny--wearing a helmet at all times because did I mention "contact sport"?

At any rate, cross training: in our house, up for redefinition. And my version seems to be pulling its own weight at present. Either that or my runs are highly motivated by the promise of chocolate milk at the finish line.

Train Narratives

One of the things I've noticed lately is just how important the words are that we use to shape our narrative. For instance, when the Man comes home, I can describe my day as awful or challenging. Using "awful" as my descriptor leaves a bad taste in both our mouths as well as portraying me as the victim. "Challenging", on the other hand, is empowering and opens things up for a discussion.

To put it slightly differently, I can tell you I was a bad driver and once ran over a stop sign or I can engage you with a fascinating story about a stop sign (which is not a stationary object) that jumped out in front of my car.

The words we use matter. They shape our experiences, providing a frame for our narrative. They have an impact, not only on the listener and how they feel when they walk away, but on us as well. The words we choose to use (and it is a choice: it doesn't just happen) define who we are. They let us know what we truly believe and feel.

This week I've been thinking about that in regard to the train that goes by the base. The Little Man and I have been reading a lot of poetry lately so, as I was last week, I've found myself writing poetry while I run (and sometimes late at night when I'm trying to fall asleep). These two were both the product of such creativity and stood in such sharp contrast that I'd thought to share them with you. The subject matter is the same but the words used resonate in very different ways.

It rumbles,
Roaring like a timpani,
The sound rolling out to meet me:
Get out of my way
Move.
Move!
Moooooove!
I'm faster than you!
But it always trails off in a whimper.

Or

My heart hears the train in the night
And it's lonely
Lonely
Lonely
And the cars on the track are hurried
Yet hesitant
And the whistle in the wind wails wild.
The dark wraps around with its silence
Solid
Steady
While my heart hears the train in the night.

My heart hears the train
And it's lonely.
My heart (lonely, lonely)
My heart (lonely, lonely)

And still...

One last thought on words: if we ourselves have trouble deciding which words to use in order to frame our narrative, and we pick carefully because one day we want to project strength and another day softness, shouldn't we make the assumption that others are making those choices too? And perhaps give them a bit of grace on the days they pick the wrong words to express the soul within?

One morning the train sounds brash and bold, the next it's lost in loneliness. We've all been there. Choose your words wisely, and give a little grace.

I Haiku While Running

This week, Littles learned about the haiku. We have daily poetry reading (because--did you know?--I am Mom), but finding a book about a cat named Won Ton that so happened to be written completely in haikus was just a lucky happenstance. We had fun reading the book about Won Ton, whose real name is Haiku, and talking about how we could write our own haikus.

Then, this morning while I was out for my run, I decided to rise to the (not very large) challenge. Running always encourages my creativity, and the haiku is short enough that I can remember the parts I want to keep and tweak the parts I don't. I would not, however, advise writing your own epic poem simply because then you'd have to stop running to write it down--which kills your run--and is challenging to do if you, like me, are running in the rain. Paper and pen plus lots of water and no sun up yet equal death.

Side note: another poetry form compatible with running: the limerick.

Working on something creative while running made my run go by faster, and then Littles and I had something fun to talk about while we were stuck in the hospital waiting room and he had "accidentally" forgotten his book bag full of school work. But these are little gems that occur when you ceaselessly plunder the hidden depths of your library and get your body and mind moving.

At any rate, here is Tiny holding Won Ton:

And here is my haiku:

Morning rain running
(Trigs doesn't like deep puddles)
Splish--in we go--splash!

Now go forth, get some exercise and create something fun! But if you write a limerick, don't start it with "there once was..." or I will make fun of you. And you will deserve it.

Also, can we please have a moment of applause for all the cute book models I keep finding around the house? Seriously now... Their dad provided some excellent genes.

Learning the Meaning

Happiness is Bee on a swing. And Bruiser in the Man's jeep.

Community is our neighbor buying said swing while we provide the rather sturdy oak tree. I feel like we came out on the better end of this deal.

Euphoria is lapping the two super fit dudes at the track.

Humility is when they finish warming up and start running for real, and you realize you weren't as cool as you thought originally.

Sore muscles are when you take the kids for a walk the same day you did intervals...and Not-So-Tiny and Bruiser park themselves in the stroller while Bee decides to ride on your back.

Snaggletooth is when playing tetherball, your final front tooth (that's been "hanging on by the skin of its teeth") gets knocked out...and you look like this.

Persistence is looking for said tooth in the grass of the back yard in order to make sure that it came out in one piece and also: tooth fairy.

Going above and beyond is when your awesome neighbor is the one who actually finds it.

Defeat is when your cat decides that its a good idea to spend the majority of her day sleeping on top of your newly planted cuttings. I hope that aloe vera stabs you in the eye.

It's also occurs when you finally conquer the unconquerable wall that bends nails and breaks drill bits by using adhesives... only to have your pictures fall off the wall two days later. Is it sour grapes to say that I didn't love it much any way?

Sadness is getting sent to time-out.

Sadness is also pretty much anything that occurs after a really bad nap time.

Leadership (or maybe just being a big sister by 8 minutes) is the words, "Hold my hand! Brother, hold my hand!" and the resulting capitulation.

Art is risk. Like painting over a picture you didn't really love in the hopes that you can make something that will actually spark joy in your life. Maybe.

Art does not, evidently, include editing any of my pictures. At least not this week.

And one more, back to happiness, it's books (for me, always) and holding on to hope and hopping on a swing myself and going on dates with my boys (especially the one I married) and making the choice to look and see the good that is there, the good that is always a gift, while trying to understand that the hard can be a gift too depending on what our goals are.

October Kick-off

It's been five weeks since I wrote last, and it's time to get back on the horse. Or wagon. Or camel, depending on what book you've been reading lately.

Initially, I had this brilliant plan to get back in the saddle (there's another way to say it) by doing 31 Days again, which would've been rather sink or swim of me. But September left our family and me especially a little fragile, and to be honest, it's not just the writing I'm trying to get back to. It's a lot of things that have been put on pause for the last few weeks, good things, necessary things that need to be added back to our normal.

So I'm reminding myself of a lot of cliches, that slow and steady wins the race and that I don't want to be a flash in the pan and other such fun thoughts, all of which boil down to the fact that 31 Days will not be a part of my October. But if you happen to be sitting around with a ton of time on your hands and nothing to read, you should go by the 31 Days Challenge and browse through the topics.

However, should you hang around here this month, I plan to continue writing about my usual hodgepodge, but I thought I'd give you a few teasers for what the next month might hold at Ink Blot Coffee. Naturally, I will still be providing book posts, which should be interesting considering that my library is closed for renovations this month, and the regular funny kid stories, but I also thought I'd give you an update on my thoughts regarding my word of the year and I've had some ideas about light and stained glass hovering around the corners of my mind that may make it out before November shows. We'll see.

In the meantime, since I've been dwelling in deeply thought provoking proverbs lately and they say (drumroll) a picture is worth a thousand words, I thought I'd share a few from the last few weeks that haven't seen the light of day (by which I mean neither the blog nor Facebook--shocker).

My parents came by for a visit in September.

Good times were quite obviously had by all.

I love these crazy twins.

And this heartbreaker.
And his older brother who doesn't show up for another few pictures.

While Mom and Dad were here, the Man and I offloaded the kids...

And went to Seattle!

All the artsiness made me very happy there.

But we came back soon before this guy decided to
grow up and leave home.
Seriously. Make it stop.

Side note: is he cute or what?

I tried hard to get a picture of my parents and all four kids--
and I promise this was the best one.
The other five shots were epically worse, if that's possible.

Anyway, October is here now, and it rained this morning. Yesterday the kids and I ate pumpkin bread on the front porch. Today I am sitting down to write. Tomorrow we finish out what actually looks like almost a complete week worth of kindergarten. These are small steps. Sometimes the smallness of them frustrates me, but we are walking back towards normal slowly but surely. So I'd like to close by saying simply, both to you who are reading but also to myself, welcome back.

Family Mottos and Over Reacting

Does anybody remember this clip from The Office where Andy loses his temper and punches a wall?

Who am I kidding? Everyone remembers that part. I'm pretty sure the Man watched it on repeat one week, laughing until he cried. Since then, it's become a catch phrase in our family.

So this week when I had to change Tiny's diaper and he dissolved into a puddle of tears while screaming hysterically, I turned to the Man, lifted my eyebrow, and said, "That was an over reaction." And we both had a good laugh. Which was nice, because sometimes Tiny's three year old-ness just makes me want to pull my hair out, not laugh. And that's not good because honestly, there's not a lot of hair left on my head thanks to Bruiser. That kid has grabby hands.

Then a couple hours later, when Littles stubbed his toe and screamed bloody murder, all the Man and I had to do was look at each other and we knew that the other one was thinking: That was an over reaction. And nothing makes me happier than an inside joke with my husband, so that was nice too.

It worked again when Bee pitched a fit over not getting Tiny's germ infested water bottle. Tiny has a stomach bug--I would prefer him not to share said bug with anyone other than Bruiser, who gave it to him originally. Bee doesn't care. All water bottles should be hers, except for the one I actually gave her.

And then when I lost my temper at an unnamed child for flooding the bathroom and busted out the classic "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!?!" before I remembered that three year olds don't always really think, I thought, "See? That was an over reaction too."

And then when Bruiser shrieked hysterically because he wanted... oh, I don't remember, but something, which is typical... I realized that almost everything in our family is an over reaction these days so...

All that to say, our new family motto is: That was an Over Reaction.

Other people can have more sophisticated family mottos, you know, family mottos that actually inspire a family to greatness or kindness or spiritual growth, but for now, this works for us. All we need is the ability to laugh and regain perspective when what we really want is to pack the kids in a box and mail them to Nana.

Which would be, as you know, an over reaction.

I think I'm going to cross-stitch our new motto, possibly accompanied with a made up family crest, and hang it over our imaginary mantle.