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It's just that I am one tired foster mama
Who is also a language arts teacher
(Which means grading 120 reading and writing assignments
That make you want to put your face out with a campfire
Instead of grading them)
And just fights to stay up to 9:00 am every night.
Lots of blogs have been written in my head
But none of have been written down
And my brain is the worse for it.
There could have been a post
Just about
Every day my mom was in town.
The funny things the kids did.
How the kids reverted back to some old behaviors.
The things we did together.
But
Honestly.
I just enjoyed it.
All of it.
There could have been a post
Just about
Choosing Halloween outfits.
Ended up with a
Snow White
Dora Fairy
Tigger.
There could have been a post
Just about
Attempting to find holiday outfits
In October
With three days notice
For "family" pictures for the kids bio mom
And then the insanity of trying to get 3 kids
Two toddlers
To hold still
And all smile
In some manner
At the same time
With a photographer who had no personality
And how I resorted to getting them to smile
By burping
Loudly
In public.
Over
And
Over
And
Over.
There could be a post
Just about
An 8 year old who lives to be outdoors
An 8 year old in crisis
An 8 year old who is amazing
An 8 year old who is hurting
An 8 year old who can test my temper like no one in the world.
There could be a post
Just about
A three year old
A smart three year old
A hysterically funny three year old
A three year old who is more stubborn than anyone I have met in my life.
There could be a post
Just about
An 18 month old.
Yes,
18 month old.
Who is seriously the cutest thing ever
Who is talking/repeating up a storm
Who has developed a temper that boils up and out faster than you can blink
Who can erase all pain through a giggle and a pudgy arm neck hug.
There could be a post
Just about
Me.
My trying to deal with being a single mom
My trying to deal with the financial issues that brings with three kids
My trying to deal with the balance work (grading, grading, grading) with mothering
My trying to deal with my new found temper than arises in ways it never has before
My trying to deal with Christmas coming.
My trying to deal with scarred children with consistency mixed with love.
But
Tonight
I'll blog about prayers.
Yes.
Bedtime prayers.
(Heaven help me,
Meal time prayers hardly ever happen.
It's like chaos at the dinner table around here.)
Every night
I cradle Little Man
In my arms
And I pray over him.
And when I say "Amen"
He pops up,
Repeats
"A-man"
And then gives me a kiss goodnight
And I lay him in his crib.
I do the same thing with A-girl.
Cradle.
Pray in her ear.
And
Since she finally has stopped
2-second delayed
Repeating my words
Back into my ear,
Last week
I decided it was time
For her to say her own prayer.
I can't usually understand more than one or two words
Until she gets to the "Amen"
Until tonight.
And then I was trying
So hard
Not
To
Laugh.
Here is the prayer of a 3 year old.
God
Thank
Potty
M&M
Dora
Peppa Pig
No Super Why
Bath
Brush Hair
Brush Teeth
Go Sleep
Amen.
Let me interpret.
God = Dear God
(I usually open with this phrase.)
Thank = Thank you
(I usually thank God for something.)
Potty = Potty
(We are trying to potty train...sort of.)
M&M = Three M&M's
(A-girl gets three when she pees in the potty)
Dora = Dora the Explorer
(A-girl got a Dora Potty Doll for her birthday who sits next to her while she goes)
Peppa Pig = A British cartoon about a pig named Peppa and her family
(A-girl is obsessed with this short show and gets a 5 minute episode when she goes pee on the potty)
No Super Why = A PBS show she must watch at daycare
(She was mad tonight because I wouldn't let her watch it after her Peppa Pig clip)
Bath = Night time baths
(It is her and Little Man's favorite time of the day.)
Brush Hair, Brush Teeth, Go Sleep = Self-explanatory
(Literally the list of the last things we did before prayers.)
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| I kind of like Peppa almost as much as I like Kipper. (Seriously. British kid shows rock.) |
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| A-Girl can run the iPad like a pro. |
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