Why I Can't Yell at My Kids

A few months ago my dad called me on a Saturday morning and said, "I'm just calling to tell you, 'I hope you get yours.'" Okaayy? He then went on to explain that they were trying to repaint my old bedroom and were having a hard time getting several of the glow in the dark "I love Jake" puffy-like paint symbols off the walls and ceilings. I just laughed, apologized, and wished them good luck.

Of course, I am "getting mine," and I'm all too aware of all those times my parents said something like, "I hope someday you have kids just like you."

Madison has been my wall/curtain/bed/toy writer. She still loves to write. I can't get too mad. . . because never mind the glow paint, I remember being 10ish and writing things on walls or books that said, "Ben wrote this." I know. . .what was I thinking? No one believed it was Ben for a minute.

Ammon has been dumping and squeezing out anything he can get his hands on. TWO bottles of biofreeze (I actually cried). They were up high, too. He just got a chair and it seriously took 3 seconds. But. . . I remember being quite young (4?) and finding a bottle of prescription nose spray at my grandmother's house during nap time. I slowly squeezed it all out and watched with wonder as it arched up and onto the floor. She got pretty mad at me for that.

Two weeks ago Madison and Grant were hiding and chasing each other through the house. Someone hid behind a curtain and it got pulled and the curtain rod got pulled out of the wall. I couldn't get mad. Because I once pulled several feet of wall off when I tried to show my babysitter how to do flips on the closet bar. And then I pulled the bathroom wall down while attempting flips on the handicap bar thing. Yeah. I was that child.

The best (worst) memory is hearing water running and sprinting into the kitchen to find Madison laughing and Grant (also laughing) on a chair with the kitchen sink spray hose and 2 inches of water covering the entire kitchen floor. Thank goodness it was travertine.

The next day Grant found a brand new bottle of spray sunscreen and he and Madison sprayed the entire bottle on each other and the floor (also travertine. . . slippery). I walked in and thought, "oh, something smells nice," and then realized what it was.

So I usually feel upset and we have a talk, but I honestly feel like I have no right to be angry because I know exactly what it's like to feel that wonderment and also that "uh oh"when you realize that something just went differently than you thought it would.

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BUT lest you think I never yell. . . evenings without Dad have been a beast this week. On Tuesday Madison said to me, "Mom, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm just wondering. . . when did you start yelling at us?" I just laughed and apologized. I'm glad they don't normally think of me as a yeller, and I'm super duper glad they are forgiving and love me even when my patience is gone. Every morning this week we've commented on how happy and nice we are compared to the evening before. Thank goodness for new days.

Also. . . It has started. We were picking up a friend for cub scouts and I was listening to the music from Wicked (for some reason singing it really loud has a calming effect on me). Right before we got to the house Logan asked me if I would "please turn off the music because it was kind of embarrassing." I see many more years of me unknowingly embarrassing my kids in the future.

And. . . I made it to lunch with Logan this week (I have to make up for my cranky evenings). The kids get to choose two friends to sit with them when parents come to lunch. He chose a girl! I actually know the girl because she was in my reading group last year, and she's the sweetest and cutest girl in the entire grade, so I don't blame him, but it was cute. I was a little surprised because he was upset at the beginning of the year because for the past two years they have been competitors for the top of the class and he was a little frustrated because it seemed like she was always a point or two ahead of him. Anyway, no teasing and I didn't make it a big deal, but I did want to make a note about it.

Survival Tips

So.... I wrote this list of survival tips and then almost posted but felt the whole time like it was monotonous and self-something. Not self-righteous, but definitely the nicer side of who I really am. So then I started thinking about a better list of survival tips for when G.I. is out of town (thanks for the nickname, Claire!).

1. Laugh all day long at the conversations you have with your kids. Like the one we had this morning about the best way to pass gas in school.... if you can't make it silent and blame it on someone else, you better ask to go to the bathroom.

2. Look good. Last week we were at the playground (in my I love Star Wars shirt) while waiting for Logan's baseball game to start. Two teenage boys near me said something like, "Hey, you like Star Wars?" (I said yes because that's the easiest answer) Other boy, "We love Star Wars, too. It's a good movie. Girls who like Star Wars are cool." (yes, always yes.) The boys kept talking, and then one walked away and the other one walked over to me and said, "Hey, I just wanted to let you know that my friend thinks you are really cute." Um. THANKS? Hey, I'll take a compliment from anyone! And then I told Joe he better get back home because the boys were hitting on me. ;)

3. Go to a friend's clean house and then come home and lecture all your kids that they better get their rooms cleaned up because the house is a disaster. And if they don't--then threaten to throw all their toys away. That makes the evening end really well.

4. Stay up all night checking facebook and playing solitaire so that you can wake up at 5:30 the next morning and feel exhausted. Then instead of doing something productive during nap time take a nap yourself so that you can continue the zombie walk the next day.

5. And finally, you deserve to be comfortable. If it's 90 degrees outside it is worth your happiness and comfort to pay for the AC. Just check your thermostat frequently. . . if it feels a bit chilly it might be because a kid turned it down to 50 degrees when you weren't looking.



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original and more serious post


I know that a husband's occasional trip out of town is a drop in the bucket compared to the life of a single mom, or a military mom whose husband is gone for a year. But the fact remains--it is still hard! So let's talk survival tips.

Food. Everyone still has to eat. Find a balance between easy and still worthy of your taste buds and budget. My favorite this time around has been an amazing spinach and chicken salad with a good vinaigrette plus a Kefir smoothy drink (found in your Walmart fridge section). Actually, that is what I ate at Madison's school yesterday and several teachers told me that they were craving my lunch.

Plans. Make it fun. Movie nights, parks, games, etc. It helps to break up the time.

Friends. I have great friends who agree to do fun things with us (like meet at a park). We've been invited to dinner, FHE, and to play and chat (adult conversation is very important!). I am hosting a girl's night at my house--can't wait! I have a babysitter lined up so I can spend a few hours away--looking forward to that!

Sleep. Still working on this one, but I think it's really important!

Time. Use your time well. Clean during the day so you can enjoy your atmosphere (messes make me cranky), and then put the kids to bed early and do something just for you that is enriching and/or relaxing.

Attitude. A work in progress. I'm learning that I am the only one who can make sure these things happen, and that I am in control of my happiness. If I do the things above it helps me to have a more positive attitude. The kids have been prepped about the relationship between good behavior and mom's patience. :)

Let's Celebrate

Madison has been asking me to eat lunch with her. I started out the school year strong with the goal to eat lunch with one of the kids once a week. Let's just say that Christmas break really interrupted our schedule. So after a morning at the park, I rushed home and put together lunches for the boys and me and then hurried over to the school just in time to sit down with Madison for lunch. After we hugged and started eating I looked at my kids and realized that Ammon still had breakfast on his face, Madison's last minute ponytail was loose with hair hanging in her face, and Grant's outfit was a little crazy. Guilt raced through my head, "I guess I need to get up earlier so I can spend more time doing Madison's hair. And why didn't I wipe his face off? Oh man. . .and he waved and talked to the secretary. Big Fat Fail."

I realized that this is how Satan gets to me. Never mind that I have four kids, that my husband is out of town, that I got up and showered and made the kids' lunches and fed them a real breakfast (eggs, toast, and the orange cantaloupe that was still on Ammon's face). I rushed them all to school and immediately took the boys on a walk and then played with them on the playground. I made Madison's day by showing up just for her. And all day long I will be doing hundreds of other little acts of motherhood. . . . So I fixed Madison's hair in the cafeteria and wiped Ammon's face off in the car, and decided that today I will celebrate success.

Diary of Hair

Most of you have only known me with long hair. Many have suggested I try shorter hair because of my long, narrow face. I like short hair; it usually looks styled and is supposedly easy to do. A lot of people look cute with short hair (like my sister). I have tried it several times over the years, but for one reason or another. . . it just doesn't work. 

So today, I present to you: a diary of hair (with background). Indulge me a little, because I do realize this might be a bit pretentious. Also a bit (Grant would say, "lil-bit") embarrassing and quite personal. I question my sanity for leaking this to the world, but part of me thinks it's funny, part of me wants to journal it, and part of me says I am a grown up and can look back and be happy. 

circa 1988? I think second grade. This is my kids' favoirte picture of me. . . because they think I look like Wendy in Peter Pan.

3rd grade. A friend's mom gave me this haircut at a church campout. I liked it and got a lot of compliments.
Also, Logan says this one is an ok picture. 

My mom believed in perms (she still does). This is the beginning of those awkward years. . I knew it, too, and and I asked my mom to cut my hair like it was in third grade, hoping it would help me exit the awkward years. 

It didn't. In fact, if I remember correctly, I showed up with this haircut on my 12th birthday--also the day of my class field trip to Niagara Falls. My boyfriend (haha, I was in 6th grade) dumped me and he and his friends called me bald eagle. I was so humiliated that I wrote and signed a contract stating that I would never have another boyfriend again--my friends Meghan and Jennifer were witnesses and cosigners. I swear this is all true.

After some tears and lots of embarrassment, I agreed to let my mom perm my hair in the hopes that I would be less awkward. Again, it didn't work. And I swore I'd never have a perm again. This is a contract I have kept, by the way.

Then came the painful growing out stages. My dad scanned and sent me all of those pictures, but I am going to save most of them for another day. They involve big glasses, braces, and bang growing. 

Here is one of the bang growing out process, and the beginning of what I will end up looking like for the rest of my life (as of now, which has been roughly 18 years). 

This is the first chronological picture that my kids say I look like me. 

Senior picture, 1999. This has pretty much been my look since then. 

This is in the wrong order, but blogger won't let me move it. Read picture below, then this.
81/2 months pregnant with Madison in the middle of July with no air conditioning. I was fat and swollen and feeling ugly, so I did the worst thing possible: got a haircut. The terrible thing is the the girl who had been cutting my hair had moved, and a friend told me she had had good luck at a hair college where haircuts were only $8. So I went and asked them to cut a longer a-line (like pic below). The girl cutting asked if I wanted it stacked in the back. I said no, because I wanted it longer--just above my shoulders. She then cut it right below my ears--straight across. I was shocked, but too nice to say anything. So I paid (and gave her a tip--what???) and went to the law school, where Joe was watching Logan. He saw me and made a surprised look. I started bawling and told him I was never going in public until my hair grew out. I taught piano lessons at the time and a student's mother said to me that night, "Oh! You got a mommy haircut." I waited until they left and then spent an hour sobbing, after which I made an appointment with a salon and had them stack the back (so short they used a razor on the back of my neck!). That was the second time in my life that I promised to never have short hair again. Skip two pictures down.

Shortly after Logan was born I needed a new look. . . the baby transition was hard! I got a longer a-line and actually thought it looked ok.

This is the fixed a-line and my little Madison. Doesn't Ammon look like Logan?

Since then I have always had varying lengths of long hair (always ponytail-able, just in case). The most daring I have been is to cut bangs that are easy to pin back and grow out.

My most recent big change--forehead bangs (instead of side bangs). They are growing on me. And growing out. I haven't decided whether I'm going to keep them or not. 

So there ya go. More than you ever wanted to know about the history of my hair.

Today

A few captured moments:

Madison read Grant and Ammon a book. That went well.

I suggested Grant and Madison put a giant puzzle together. That did not go well, and ended in me yelling at them to get ready for bed and then me tearing the puzzle apart and throwing it in the box.

A friend gave us some corn muffins. They were good. Ammon got frustrated that the crumbs were falling off and then more frustrated when he couldn't make them stick back in the muffin. I finally had to pull his screaming, frustrated body away from the table.

Then we went and played the piano together. He usually plays his own song while I try to play mine. Today he sat on my lap for about 15 minutes, calming down, and really listening to the sounds and watching my fingers dance on the keys. I wonder if he is going to be my musical genius.

Logan got home from scouts and sat in my lap like a little baby for about 5 seconds. When did he get so big???

2 Things

1. I have noticed a pattern over the last week or so: only minutes after tucking all four children in, either Madison or Logan is up to go to the bathroom. After about 10 minutes we are calling upstairs, "Put the book down! It's almost 9:00! Go to bed!" Tonight this memory resurfaced: 10 year old me (12? 15?) passing through the living room to get to our only bathroom with a book hidden in the elastic of my pajama bottoms, stomach sucked in to hide the blocky bulge. They get it from their mother.

2. It is an eerie feeling to look into the mirror and see my father's chin, my dead brother's smile, another brother's eyes, my mother and sister's crooked mouth smirk. With age comes the wonderful realization that I am connected to each of them.

we were laughing so hard!

picture blog fail

So I've had this great idea to write about--the funny one I promised--but it involves a lot of pictures, and every time I get on iphoto it freezes up on me after about 30 seconds. I'm not sure if that means I have too many pictures or what, but the result is that the funny blogpost I planned will have to wait.

Instead I'm going to write another serious one. Sorry.

Last year about this time I read and blogged about a concept I got from a Linda Eyre book, A Joyful Mother of Children. Sharpening the saw. Because of holidays and sickness I have gotten out of the habit of sharpening my saw. (I just reread the post--you can too if you click on that link--I did start a book club last year and it is still going strong-yay!) Taking care of myself for about 2 months meant me being flat on my back for hours at a time, getting up to do a few things that had to be done, and then getting back on my back for another hour so the pain could calm down. I was unable to exercise or play the piano--two things that make me feel like I'm actually an individual person. Then I started feeling better, but it was hard to get back into a routine of taking care of everyday things (I'm finally feeling almost caught up!). I've been throwing myself a lot of pity parties. . . watching mindless T.V. shows, writing Joe texts that said things like, "blah blah blah. blah blah blah blah." I knew I needed to be like Nike and just DO IT, but it's hard to get that motivation circle started. Please tell me I'm not alone!

Joe has been very helpful in encouraging me to get out and regain my personality. :)

I finally did it! and have been riding my bike for about 30 minutes almost every night for the past week. Because of the time change it has been staying lighter longer. . . so when Joe gets home we eat and then I say, "I need to get some exercise. I'm going to ride my bike." And he gets the kids ready for bed while I ride for about 20-30 minutes. I'm so thankful for his support, because I know he's tired at the end of the day, and it's really kind of fulfilling to ask for something for myself--even if it's just a 20 minute bike ride. Hopefully soon I will be strong enough to get back to carrying the boys in the bike trailer and will be able to go during the day, but I'm still working on strengthening my back and arm/shoulder.

What a difference it has made! I have more energy, more motivation, and I'm happier. I'm not sure if it's the added endorphins or the fact that I'm doing something for myself. Probably both. I wake up ready excited to play with the kids and clean the house. I have also started playing the piano every day. I can play pretty loud, and the kids love it! Logan came to me the other day and said something like, "I feel happy when you play the piano." The kids are more willing to practice and do lessons with me when they hear me playing. Madison and Logan are planning to try out for the school talent show in May.

I just finished a book called The Power of Habit: Why We Do What We Do in Life and Business. I highly recommend it. It's not a self-improvement book, but scientifically explains why and how we make habits, the habit pattern, how the habits affect our lives (socially, in business, personally, etc), and how to change habits. Anyway, almost every conversation I have had since then, and so much that I do, reminds me of things I read in the book. SO GOOD!

Anyway, I've decided the #1 thing I can do for me and for my family is to go to bed earlier and to get more sleep at night. The problem is that I put the kids to bed and I feel like I have to stay up all night to enjoy some time alone with Joe and some time to myself. Basically, the pattern is: a craving, the habit (routine), the reward. According to the book, to effectively change a habit you keep the craving (that's hard to make go away) and the reward, but change the habit. Does that make sense? I'm still trying to figure out how to change the routine habit part....

So basically, right now sharpening my saw means that everyday I:

• exercise 
• play the piano
• read
• spend 15-20 minutes talking to Joe, in addition to the time spent talking about kids and daily mind-numbing tasks. Preferably alone without kid noises in the background. 
• Eventually I need to get to the gym and start strength training in order to prevent future injuries. Anyone want to go with me? 

What are some of the ways you sharpen your saw?

Truth

I had some of the best English professors in college. I also had some of the greatest English classes. One class--in fact one day--changed my life. Sounds cliche, I know. But it is true.

My Victorian Literature teacher would give us quizzes where we would walk into class, draw two questions from a hat, and then we had about an hour to write and print two essays answering those questions. The question that changed my life went something like (paraphrasing here because it's been 10 years!): Discuss how Charles Darwin and Gerard Manley Hopkins are similar and different.

You see the genius of the question, don't you? You have to know what they wrote and know about the authors themselves to be able to answer the question. And if you know about either author you know that they they don't really have a lot in common.

So I started writing about the authors and their works. I wrote for about 20 minutes (I had an estimated 10 minutes left for this essay). And then it hit me:

They were both searching for the truth.

One found it in science and the other found it in God. Both were absolute in their beliefs. Both wanted to share--convince--others of their truths.

Then it double hit me:

WE ARE ALL SEARCHING FOR TRUTH.

That is what we hunger for. That is why we do what we do, whether we are searching for true happiness, true love, the meaning of life, health, science, math--you name it.

That began my hunger and my quest for truth. I started researching the relationship between truth and light. And even now, everything I read either confirms what I know or makes me question what I don't know. I love conversations that challenge my thinking (though I know some of you think I am the crazy lady who likes to argue).

I have learned a lot, and I am still learning.

Recently I listened to this talk about truth. It reminds me about my own feelings on the topic and my own search for truth. You should read it. And then we can talk about it. Or any other topic. Politely, of course. :)

In case you were wondering, I got an A on my both my essays. Actually, if I remember correctly, the professor read my truth essay to the class. Yah, I'm bragging.

Anyway, like Charles Darwin and Gerard Manley Hopkins--we have some similarities and many differences. That's ok. We can still be friends. 

Playing Catch Up

So many memories to remember, so little time!

• My back is feeling much better. Yay!

• Grant turned 5 and Ammon is almost 2. NOOOO! Where is the time going? Pics to come.

• Logan is in baseball and Madison is in gymnastics. Let's just say that we are in it for the experience.

• We went to Houston and New Orleans for Spring Break. You know what I love about Joe's job? He has some say over his hours, his practice pays for his business trips (and we can tag along), and he has the ability to take business trips and still work while he is gone. 

• Life is good.

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Now for a laugh:

Table Talk part II:

A week or so ago we were eating dinner and for some reason Madison asked me about women getting IV's when they have babies. She was very disappointed when I said, yes, expect to be poked when you have babies. (P.S. Joe was working late.)

Logan: So Mom, I've been thinking. Boys are kind of dead ends.

Me: Huh? Dead ends?

Logan: Yeah, you know, girls can have babies and continue the human species, but boys are just dead ends. You don't need them.

Me: No...... Women do have the babies, and that's really cool, but they have to have a man in order to make the baby. You need both of them. Boys and girls are equally important.

Logan: But the mother makes the baby, carries the baby, and gives birth. You don't really need a guy.

Me: Logan. . . do you remember how babies are made?

Logan: Yeah. I mean no. I just don't understand how it happens.

Madi: Me either.

(reminder: Joe supposedly had this talk with Logan at the pet store)

Me: (looking at Grant and trying to decide how to continue this conversation) Well... how are boys and girls different?

obvious answers

Me: Well.... (scientific explanation)

EWWWW!!

Grant: Mom. Be. APPROPRIATE!! (sounds like "appofiate")

Madi: Did you and dad do that?

Me: Well... that's how I got here, grandma and grandpa, you, Logan.... every single person.

EWWWWWW!!!

Me: Guys, it's not gross. It's good, that's just how it is--that's how we have families.

Logan: Well.... I guess people sacrifice in order to have families. You do what you have to do, right?

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I love family meal time!!

whinefest part II

You know you need help when someone asks you how you are doing and instead of the traditional, "fine thanks, and you?"....you start sobbing.

Yeah, that's been me the past few weeks. After some encouragement from some friends who got to see my ugly cry, I asked a chiropractor in our church if he would take me as a patient. Normally this would be really awkward and embarrassing because dang it! I hate feeling like I need help. . . and it's someone that  I know and I hang out with his wife. But at this point I just needed someone to make the pain go away.

And unfortunately, it might be a good while before that happens. Somehow I have a second degree strain between my spine and my right shoulder blade. Basically--I tore a muscle. I am right handed, so it hurts to do anything. Brush teeth, brush kids' teeth, wash dishes, fold clothes, sweep, vacuum, mop, drive, move. Sit. Sleep. Constant pain. I was told 8 weeks to heal, and I've read as much as 3-4 months before feeling completely normal.

That is a long time.

I'm not supposed to be doing repetitive motions (sweeping, etc) or picking up kids. Tell me how that works when you are a mom?! My family has been awesome. The kids are constantly asking about my back and praying that mom will feel better soon. Logan and Madison are in charge of 2 of the bathrooms and other various chores, Grant is doing the vacuuming, and besides picking up a lot of what I usually do during the day, Joe even came home a little bit early last week and cleaned our bathroom. . . that hadn't been cleaned in 3 weeks. Still, the house is not up to its normal standards, and we won't be inviting anyone over anytime soon.

As a result of mom's "laziness," Ammon has had a little more freedom to get into trouble: squirting out tubes of toothpaste, pulling everything (usually food that spills/scatters onto the dirty kitchen floor) off of the counters, dumping milk all over the floor, squeezing hair gel all over his hair. . . and everything else within a 2-feet radius.... just to name a few off the top of my head.

Also, I dropped my 2-month old iphone 5 on the floor. That thing has been dropped and thrown probably 100's of times...but this time the glass shattered. It still works, so I'm not going to pay $200 to buy a refurbished phone....but I'm stuck with it for the next 2 years. :(

OK, so things I am grateful for:

• A husband who is willing to help out around the house, even when he's been at work all day.
• A husband who loves me and makes me feel attractive even when I have greasy hair and mascara smudges on my face.
• Kids who feel empathy and compassion and are willing to help around the house and with the younger kids.
• Kids who are old enough to help out.
• My dad, who told me last night that it was ok if the house was a mess. 
• Books.
• Friends who ask me how I'm doing and are ok when I start crying. 
• Friends who offer to help. 
• The 70 degree weather we are supposed to have all week.
• Prayer. I'm no longer asking that the pain will be taken away, but that I can deal with the pain.
• Walking. It feels good to stretch and move, and the movement of walking (in this great weather) helps to take my mind off of the constant pain. 
• Despite his ability to get into trouble, Ammon is pretty cute. His new word is "ugly." Today I asked him what his name was, and he said, "Ugly," and started laughing. I did, too; he most definitely is NOT ugly!! 

Here's hoping that February is a happier month than January. :)

doggy paddling

First it was the flu. Then it was the general feeling of un-wellness. After a few weeks I got tired of feeling awful and went to the urgent care to find out what was wrong with me: strep throat and a sinus infection. Who knew you could have strep without a fever? It was worth the $200 to get diagnosed and get started on my $4 amoxicillin.* And then 3 days later, just when I was feeling good enough to fold the heaps and heaps of clean clothes that had piled up over the sick weeks, I took a 15 minute nap and woke up with a sharp pain in my back.

Did I mention that I really dislike going to the dr?

So instead of going to the chiropractor I decided to try the 20 min of heat/ice rotation. Surely it would go away on its own?? That was Wednesday. I think the pain is actually getting worse. It's like I'm being stabbed between my spine and my shoulder blade. It burns. 

I'm tired of trying to stay afloat and I'm ready to get back to my normal routine. Ready for clean bathrooms and crumbless countertops. The kids are now used to sifting through the piles of clean clothes in the playroom each morning as they look for something to wear to school. I'm ready to get back to my treadmill during nap time. I'm ready to stop taking naps! I'm ready to be the mom and wife I want to be. I'm ready to feel healthy.

Ok, whinefest is over. For today. 

*Can I tell you that I AM incredibly grateful for modern medicine and antibiotics? 

Anxiety

Everyone says my kids look like Joe. Even Grant--the one who I think looks most like me (it's the nose and white skin). But if there is one thing that the kids got from me. . . it's worry (except Grant, ironically). I worry. I think I'm getting better--only because I make a conscious effort because I want to live a full life, and you can't if you are fearful or worried about everything. Not many people know this, but I was diagnosed with anxiety about a year after Joe and I got married. I've learned a lot about how to deal with anxiety over the past decade.

Anyway, this wasn't supposed to be about me.

Here are some examples:  

Madison may be one of the only girls around who has absolutely NO interest in getting her ears pierced. Why? Because it involves a sharp object going through her ears. The other day she asked me why I didn't just get it done when she was a baby and couldn't think or remember it. (I, for some reason, do not fear pain. I wanted my ears pierced so badly that I did it myself with a dull earring.)

Logan (probably the most anxious of us all) is afraid of dogs. We went on a family walk and there was an unattended dog in a yard. It started barking and big-eyed Logan backed away in a panic. (Grant, on the other hand, walked towards the dog. He is fearless. . . mainly because he thinks he is a super-hero. Seriously.)

Logan has been especially anxious over the past three months. In September he ran into a fence while playing ball at school and he had to get some stitches in his bottom eyelid. I held him down while they inserted the gear necessary to put him completely under. The nurse blew something like 4 veins trying to get that needle into the boy (who was kicking and screaming). He miraculously held still for the plastic surgeon while the sutures were removed but the idiot doctor failed to remove the two that we found two weeks later--sticking out like blue eyelashes. Now almost 3 months later, after several canceled appointments (on their part) and one failed (on our part), and also after Logan had fasted 3 Sundays, said numberless prayers, and received a blessing from his father, we were excited for the final appointment where Logan would theoretically sit still while the doctor removed the final stitch. Well, Logan did his part, but it had taken so long that the suture had grown into the skin. The doctor informed us that he could get it out by injecting numbing stuff into Logan's eyelid and then recutting the injury in order to remove the suture.

WHAT!!

Well, we tried. Logan tried. But not matter how much he wanted to sit still, he couldn't do it.

Our initial response was to be furious. "Just sit still and let the idiot doctor finish this once and for all!!!!" 

It wasn't happening.  No threat of burning Pokemon cards or canceling the celebratory Chucky Cheese dinner was going to do it.

I've been told that he was screaming out, "NOOOO! Why was I playing ball? Why am I friends with those people? If I wasn't friends with them I wouldn't have been playing ball and then I wouldn't have run into the fence! Why did I have to run into the fence!? That is the worst day of my life!" 

A few hours and many tears later I've come to this conclusion:

He's nine. And he's got some anxiety issues. We shouldn't be angry at him because of something that isn't really his fault. 

I still don't know what we are going to do. I mean, does it really matter if he has a tiny dot of plastic in his eyelid for the rest of his life? 

And Logan and I. . . we'll continue to work with the anxiety.