let them be little

Let's talk in cliches for a moment. How many times have you heard that "this is the time of your lives" or "your children grow so fast, enjoy every minute of it", etc?
So thinking about those pithy sayings, I still on occasion have a hard time letting my kids be little. (As if I have a choice.) The spills. The tantrums. The whining. The poop. The barf. The littleness.
Occasionally I dream blissfully of the days of quiet mornings, nursing a cup of coffee, reading my Bible, cleaning a house that stays clean for more than 15 minutes, spending less time trying to get stains out of little laundry. Some days I just want my kids to grow up. And I know they will. They are.

Still...
One day Madeira managed to fall out of the van when I was in a hurry to leave, of course. (The van was parked, FYI.) She was taking a bath one day. I went in to check on her and found a turd on the bathroom rug. Even she can't handle her own fecal matter. Another time she pooped on the carpet and told me she put the goods in the toilet. After I got done cleaning up the smears, River stepped on the poo that she'd hid under some doll clothes. She likes to empty her pee into the toilet herself. Commendable but there is often spillage on the floor... OK, I may be tired of the potty training process. Also she's two.
But then she redeems herself. Like the time she was accosting Finn in his walker and informed me, before I intervened, that "the poor kid is fine." She is a first rate snuggler. She LOVES to take showers (I can't even remember the last time I took a shower alone. Sniff.); she sits on the shower floor, folding and petting a washcloth. She will try just about any food. She doesn't like pop. My girl.
Thanks to the terrible twos, the boys actually seem like a cake walk right now. River tends to not take a nap, but he keeps himself pretty well entertained while the others are sleeping. I actually love his age. He sleeps by himself, pees by himself, does lots by himself and yet, he is still a gentle, kind hearted little guy. I love to watch his imagination at work - his jawbones, plus plus toys, army men, legos, playmobil, etc keep his attention for hours. Awesome.
However, when it comes to learning, he has the attention span of a gnat. And I'm going to blame this on his dad, but he's tends to fall to pieces when he thinks something is too hard. Even Jeremy admits he was probably like that... One of these days, I'll be a good cheerleader.
Finn is just a fat, sweet little chub. He doesn't sleep all night and probably won't until he's one or close to it, like the other two. I have made peace with that. A long time ago actually. However, he does not seem to have the necessary skills to suck on a bottle. He needs to learn as his bottle feeding days are swiftly approaching...
As a tween or thereabouts, I thought my mom was well on her way to insanity. This post might explain why I'm well on my way to insanity. A thousand times a day, your mind says, I love being a mom. I should have like 5 more kids. The next minute, you realize that motherhood has kicked you in the pants, and you have no idea what you're doing. This happens about 100 times a day.
The kids are good. They are bad. The kids listen. They are stubborn weasels. The kids play like angels. They fight like demons. See? God must be giving us just enough to take heart and just enough to remain humble.

 I need to better disciplined about getting up early in the morning. But at the risk of sounding like a whiny heinie, it's kind of hard after a night of interrupted sleep.

 He is all about taking an umbrella when it rains. But we live in the prairie. Rain is most frequently accompanied by violent winds. Thus the destruction of the umbrella...

And for the truly insane thought - when I look at the last two pictures, I realize I would have more kids. After all, when it's good, it's so good, I forgive and forget all the bad.