My High Horse has Gone Missing

Before I had kids, I knew that my kids would be little angels. I knew this because I knew exactly how I'd parent them. My children would never throw tantrums in public or disrespect me. They would always be polite, kind, and obedient because I would be the perfect mom.
Never in my worst of nightmares did I see myself being at a big church event with my daughter throwing an Exorcist-worthy-tantrum. Surely, I would die before I'd be THAT mom walking her child through the crowds of people while her child writhes and screams and attempts to bite her mother. I would NEVER allow my child to scream until she was blue in the face and nearly passes out in a public place. Not me! I would be the mom with the kids who walked in a cloud of light because they came straight from Heaven...HA HA HA!
I can't even write that while keeping a straight face. It's humorous now to think that I thought that way back then. To think that I supposed I could maintain any shred of dignity is laughable.
Why? Because when you're Maia Belle's mommy, humiliation is the name of the game. There is no room for pride when your child throws the king of all temper tantrums at a big church event (my place of employment). There is no place for dignity when you walk through crowds of people you know while your writhing screaming child is attempting to bite you only after your table of friends watched your daughter scream until she was blue in the face.
My lofty hopes of maintaining my pride and dignity while being a mom are long gone. They have been replaced with a heaping serving of humility by means of humiliation. It's obvious that I needed to come off my high horse, but little did I know that I also needed to be stomped six feet under ground as well. I would venture to say that I will never have a problem with pride or narcissism, my daughter will make sure of it!


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Third-Child-Hazards

Hi! I'm Malakai Kade Murray...why are you laughing? See, this is why I am writing this blog. I want everyone to know why being a third child is hazardous to your health.

Exhibit A. Every time I have this pacifier in my mouth, people laugh at me, and I just can't figure out why. I think my parents want me to have a complex.

Exhibit B. Instead of coming to rescue me from eating a leaf which could potentially give me a stomach ache or make me choke, my parents take a picture of me, eating said leaf.

Exhibit C. I've got some older siblings who are just slightly older than me and can't really handle my weight, but my crazy parents will do anything for a picture of them and I together so they ask my siblings to hold me which means my insides get smooshed, my shirt gets shoved up into my face, I can't see because the sun is in my eyes (my mom says that is the best lighting) and my belly is showing for everyone to see. Seriously, mom? So embarrassing.

(Mom finally comes to my rescue after I start crying and I nearly get dropped too early by my sister).

Exhibit D. These are the crazy people who raise me! Don't they just look like they could be hazardous to my health?! It's amazing that I am still alive to write this post after all the third-child-hazards I've survived!

Maia's Vocabulary

My precocious 3 year old has quite the vocabulary. She is so advanced, in fact that she teaches me new words on a regular basis. Here are some of the words she has added to my vocabulary...

"Chicketating"-" When you feed the chickens."

This came on the tails of a conversation explaining the differences between the words INTERESTING and IRRITATING. She had combined them into one word "interrating." After defining these two words for her, she matter-of-factly informed me that there was also the word "Chicketating."

"Turnupenlater"- "The red and white things that close when a train comes and stay up when the train is gone."

Maia has since changed this to "Turnenlater." Apparently, she has the freedom to change the words as she sees fit. This is used on a regular basis as we drive over train tracks quite often.

"Fluffy"- "When someone is changing your diaper and you get all crazy and turn around and be naughty, that's called when you're being 'fluffy.'"

She was observing me struggling to change Malakai's diaper when she was inspired with this word.

"Crack-a-doo-dah"- as in "You're being a crazy crack-a-doo-dah"

There is no rhyme or reason for this one. It just is what it is because that is what Maia says!

The Kid Table

This weekend is pure chaos. Ricky was in a wedding on Friday evening which means we attended the rehearsal and dinner on Thursday evening, then Sunday my brother is getting married, which means we attended the rehearsal and rehearsal lunch today. The kicker is that we've had all three kids with us at every single event and they are all sick...and so is Ricky. It's been quite adventurous, but the most humorous moment for me so far was Thursday night's rehearsal dinner...

My kids are all coughing violently throughout the rehearsal in spite of my attempts to drug them with cough syrup (which I am not supposed to administer to my young children...but I was desperate...don't judge me). I was getting interesting looks as people came to coo at Malakai and noticed his nose covered in snot. And, I was so overwhelmed in the process of getting everyone ready and out the door on time after a full day of work that I forgot to bring snacks and so my children were complaining about how hungry they were. I searched through my purse for some old piece of fruit that may have still been semi-fresh. Instead of finding food, I littered the floor of the church with grocery store receipts that some how never make it out of my purse. After, cleaning up that mess, we found a spot in the foyer with toys! Hallelujah!

We spent the entire ride to the rehearsal dinner location, listening to whining and trying to bribe our tired and sick children to not embarrass us at the dinner. At this point, you may be asking what would possess us to take our three children to this event. Well, you see, the bride and groom informed us that "everyone" would be bringing their kids and so we should bring ours. It turns out "everyone" was one other couple with a very quiet newborn. When we walked into the room, I prayed that they would have arranged it so that we could have our very own table, but to my horror, I realized we were placed with an unsuspecting, lovely, pre-children couple plus the "special" uncle. I apologized for them being placed at the kids table as soon as we bombarded the table with all of our children, and our luggage. Then, as if choreographed all three of my children begin to cough up their lungs simultaneously. I quickly covered their mouths with my hands and then without thinking introduced myself to the table guests offering my germy hand. Bad move.

Anyways the night continued to be comedic as the "special" uncle scared my kids, my kids insisted on using their sleeves as snot rags, and the coughing became background music...not to mention, I went up and gave a "speech" during the open mic session with a sleeping baby in my arms and my kids running wild in the adjacent conference room. I really did have meaningful things to say, but my speech sounded nothing like what it sounded like in my head. Maybe it was because I caught a glimpse of myself in the window as I was walking up and noticed that I had sweat glistening on my forehead, my hair was all messed up and hanging in my face, and I had a sleeping child in my arms who had drooled all over my shirt. This sorry reflection of myself must've thrown me off a bit!

All of this to say, that I felt terrible for those poor people who got stuck at our table and had to be coughed on all night by my children. I really hope that they have strong immune systems.