Rainbow Tasha...Rainbow Tasha

Go where you want to go

Do what you need to do

Love will follow you.
Tasha graduated from Kindergarten today.
It was a beautiful day.

Q: Why does a six year old dump an entire bottle of baby oil on the bathroom mat and surrounding floor?

A (#1): Because she thought we had more.
A (#2): Because she was mad at her sister.

I remained quite calm, thank you very much. Calm enough to get from lame answer #1, to reality answer #2. Ugh.

Two Seconds Is Too Long

I had a nightmare that Payton drowned. Not like in a pool or a lake or anything like that. Not like a fluke accident. It was nothing but 2 seconds of water running while I leaned over to search for something I dropped on the ground. The exact situation could never happen the way I dreamed it, especially because he was an infant in the dream, but the reality of 2 seconds has really hit home. And the feeling of complete helplessness as I was trying to perform CPR on an infant whose lungs had already filled with water will probably never leave me.

Anyway... watch your kids around water! Bathtub, swimming pool, kiddie pool, 5 gallon water pail, dog dish... YIKES! I don't want to know anyone that loses a child in this manner.

NTS: Comfort Kyra More

This morning, while nursing Payton in the bedroom, I heard Tasha yelling at Kyra. Again. And again. And again. It's nothing new, and it pretty much happens on any given day at any given time. There is no rhyme or reason to it, and believe me (!), I have tried to figure it out. I have also tried pretty much everything to put an end to it and not much seems to work. There just seems to be no empathy in that little one. She just honest to goodness can't see/feel how her actions are affecting the other people around her. A friend of mine said that some kids you have to teach that to. That's my new quest- how to teach empathy.

Anyway, this morning I opted not to yell at Tasha, not to send her to her room, not to "talk" with her about it (because that usually ends in yelling and room sending), and quite honestly, not to deal with Tasha about it. I just went into the kitchen and kissed Kyra on the head. Then I hugged her, pushed her head up and gave her another kiss on the nose.

"What's with all the kissing and hugging?" Kyra asked.

"Oh, I just think you've had a rough morning. You've been yelled at a lot and I know that doesn't feel really good, does it?" I replied.

"No. It doesn't" (not in her pouting crying attitude or mean voice, just matter of factly)

"I just figured you could use some lovin' and I thought I'd tell you how much I appreciate you and how hard you try to please your sister some times," was my final word and then I walked out of the room to finish getting ready to leave.

Do you know what that little stinker Tasha did? She apologized to Kyra! The second I turned the corner of the room, she said, "I'm sorry I yelled at you Kyra." What a little $#@*!!! I swear to you, I will never figure that kid out. But if I do, you'll be the first to know.

WW: I Told Tasha to Go to Her Room, "'Til Your Father Comes Home!"

Things That Make Me Go- "HAH!"

I received a Mother's Day special from a diaper company. Just what every mother wants on her special day- diapers. Yeah actually, it is, if they are a good quality at a low price.



The idea of gluten-free, dairy-free macaroni and cheese. Yep, I'll say it again, macaroni (gluten) and cheese (dairy).



My 11 year old asked me "mom, doesn't hopes, wishes, blessings, and prayers all mean the same thing?" Pretty much, yes. She was reading off of a school flier asking us to create a "prayer flag" with hopes, wishes, blessings, and prayers for the school. I imagine if it used the word 'or' in place of 'and' it would make more sense. I just thought it amusing that my 6th grader was smarter than the 3 Waldorf certified teachers in charge of this celebration.



My mom will now send me 5 emails within 5 minutes of each other, each with a separate subject. She does this because she knows if there is one question in a lengthy email I will not respond until I know all the answers. (a question like, "when is the last day of school?") The funny thing is, if I answer 4 emails, I will try to find the answer to that last one just to say I got to them all.



Men. They are just hilarious. (When they are not being stupid. But really they are hilarious then as well.)

Calling In Sick

When I was working and going to school I often times would do both while sick. I'd lay my head on my desk while going through the motions and listening to the lecture. What did the teacher care, I was just a number and I attended class that day. I'd stand at my cash register sipping my Coke and eating crackers while dishing off most responsibility to the other employees that felt fine. They didn't mind because at least I was there and they didn't have to cover the things that I could do like ring up customers and answer phones. They were grateful for what I could give.

So what does it look like when you call in sick as a mom? Are we allowed to? Will life as we know it end and the home stop functioning properly? Will the children feel unloved and abandoned? Will our husbands fire us? And what is our job anyway?

I was listening to the radio last week and they said that if you added up all the jobs and responsibilities that a mother does in any given week, she would make well over $100,000 a year. Right on, I thought. Then I started thinking about what those jobs were and what I would actually get paid to do them. Janitor? I would have been fired. Cook? Average pay, I believe. Nurse? Eh, it's hit or miss if I have band aids in the house.

But who really gets paid the big bucks? The CEO's, the Presidents and owners of successful companies. And for some of those owners, is it really the pay and financial increase, or is it the reward of seeing something you've created from the ground up actually make a difference in the world?

I overheard a phone conversation at the library a while ago where a man was talking to someone that was trying to sell him something. He finally ended the call by saying, "listen, I'd like to make the decision here, but you're talking to the CEO. My wife is the President of this family and I have to check with her first." I hope his wife caught wind of that discussion and feels her infinite worth as a contributor to their family and society in general.

A friend recently posted that mothers and teachers are two of the primary wealth contributors to society. Right on, I'm both. But where's my wealth?

• It's in the eyes of my children as they laugh and play.
• It's the student that can read and his parents that are grateful.
• It's the youth that make my Wednesday nights delightful.
• It's the relationships that form and endure through the tough times.
• It's the inflection in my daughters voices as they repeat common sayings around our house and the friends that tell me how much they sound like me.
• It's seizing the moment to capture a good time.

And most importantly, it's today. The day that I'm calling in sick from most of my responsibilities, eating crackers, sipping on a Coke, and hopefully won't go under. I'd like to think that I've set up this business I like to call home in a way that lets the other employees take charge. We don't have to put up the "Closed" sign because the President isn't feeling well. The 11 year old can start laundry and cook dinner. The 6 year old makes a fine babysitter. And the CEO will come home and pull a second shift because he's just as devoted to this company as the President is.