Potty training, book review and the Gospel.

Oh what a week! I've literally fallen asleep earlier, faster, and more deeply then I ever have. This week has just been stinking exhausting. I've been potty training Lily this week. So that translates into:

-So much urine. So. Much. Urine. (yea I said urine on purpose, because "pee pee" makes it sound like it's less gross. It's not less gross when it comes from your own child, it's just less avoidable when it comes from your own child.)
-Juggling bored-out-of-their-minds little boys who are looking for some negative attention if it's all they can get.
-Cleaning, cleaning cleaning.
-Emotional energy to cheer Lily on, to congratulate her, and finding the balance between correction and emotional support when she has accidents. (Lord, help her. She is just like me, she HATES it when she doesn't do anything everything perfectly on her own.)
-So much cleaning, and yet never enough.
-Patience.
-Poop.
-No going out. AKA no having fun.
-Coming to the end of myself....riding the cycle of "I"m not a good mom" all the way back around to "Thank you Jesus for your grace."

I've been reading the book Glimpses of Grace: Treasuring the Gospel in Your Home by Gloria Furman. It has been the perfect week for her gospel reminders. I wish I could share all my highlighted quotes and passages from this book but a couple stand out and they have pushed me away from my week and into the arms of Jesus...so I think that's worth sharing.

"But something inside me said that controlling my circumstances wouldn't fill the void in my soul. You can't organize your way into communion with God." Furman, loc 928

This ^ was crazy convicting to me. Organization and tidiness in my mind are the keys to a meadow of happiness and rainbows. I LOVE a well cleaned kitchen like a pig loves slop. But I can't control my way into the presence of God and I can't scrub my way into His Peace. I can't earn His love with a million gold stars on a million charts. 

"We have opportunities every day to delight in God. We're surrounded by the circumstances he has ordained for our sanctification. God's grace to us in Christ gives us assurance to follow him where he leads, even when it's into awkwardness, hard work, and pain." Furman, loc 876

-Hard things are often the best things (or in the case of potty training...the necessary things). Always so good to be reminded to delight in God and to keep a grateful heart that He would desire to sanctify me.

So if this was a book review...which I guess it's kind of a potty training review and a book review oddly rolled into one...I give it the highest thumbs up. Well better put, this book is encouraging me in the midst of potty training, and that's saying something.

Unfaithful Swingsets

This morning we woke up to a flood. Our (at least) yearly backyard flood from the creek behind our house struck again! We've seen it sweep away our play/swing sets last summer, but it didn't matter a whole bunch partly because we were in shock and also the kids weren't really old enough to enjoy it yet. But this morning, I was just short of devastated when I saw that our swing set had disappeared and our little plastic climber thing was wrapped around a tree next door. Unlike last time, this time around I'm not so naive to believe that our plastic swing set could survive an upheaval of that magnitude unharmed. We were able to repair the swing set to a point of reasonable safety the last time. This time I just really doubt we will find it in one piece.

*shaking my metaphorical fist* Darn you stupid rain! Darn you stupid flood! Darn you...playset. You stole my heart in one hundred moments of swinging and imagination and you didn't have the gumption to stay. I know it's a silly thing to be upset about, not to mention both pieces were generously handed down to us by friends. We haven't lost any money on our end, the flood didn't seep into our home. But that little booger of a swing set...when it sailed away it broke my little mommy heart. I tried so so hard to remind myself that we have so much to be grateful for, that in the big picture of the Kingdom our swing set is of little consequence, and that God is even sovereign over Lyric, Lily, and Fletcher's childhood (even if it does have to be swing less and that seems like a tragedy to me). But honestly, it wasn't until my husband turned his computer screen toward me and my coffee which was becoming cold, that I felt better. He found a swing set that we can afford in the relatively near future  and looks sturdy enough to be loyal to the family that dadgum loves it and gives it a home. Tsk tsk old swing set.

I hate that flood.

 ~and by the way I hate how freakishly long thunder rolls are around here...it just splits the nerves of us gals from Tornado Valley...at what point in world's longest thunder roll do I decide that wait...that is actually a tornado and I need to scoop three children from their beds upstairs and go hide in the basement? Oh wait....I would have been Dorothy-ed by that point. So. Annoying.~

But I've been relishing today's temperatures in the 70's on the first day of July and the sweet smells that permeated the air after the rain fell. I also finished a wonderful book today (the second one in two and half weeks, that's a record for me!) called A Broken Kind Of Beautiful. So today has had it's ups and downs. Now excuse me while I go hunt for a mangled swing set. 

Indoor (Survival) Activities

So being a writer who can't look at a computer screen is problematic. It's kinda frustrating, but out of my fear and trembling of another migraine I will not look at another computer screen today. I can tell my brain is still...tender. So I'm sitting here audio recording my next blog like a dweeb. Yes, a dweeb because nerds have become cool and I really really don't feel cool right now. But nevertheless, I've been thinking today about what indoor activities I do with my kids. A friend asked me recently to make a list and post it, and after my poor husband had to be stuck inside alone all day with our three littles I thought it might be a good time to share a survivors guide to indoor activities with little kids.

Stories: The Tale of The Many Mini Candy Bars

 **This is a funny story. If you find yourself in a deep in reflective place, you’ve gone too far and missed the turn.

We used to do this ministry thing in the apartment complex where we lived in our early days. Basically, we planned and carried out events for our complex with the intention of building relationships. I was pregnant with our first, Lyric. But for the sake of this story you should know that I was almost equally pregnant with a very large….sweet tooth. A sweet tooth like no other sweet tooth, this sweet tooth could send me into tears at a moments notice until I was driven to the nearest self-serve frozen yogurt establishment. Cushioned atop billowing swirls of delightful vanilla and chocolate yogurt with an occasional strawberry ribbon, were carefully selected peanut m&ms and chocolate sprinkles. Ah the delight! Oh the satisfaction! The initial sweet crunch of victory followed by the cool embrace of delicate dairy.  Uhh..err…pardon me. Back to the story.

I had a part time job, and Austin had a few part time jobs. This left me with ample time in the apartment. So I planned a Halloween event for our big monthly shin dig. We made food and I got the high school small group I led to help me make like a million black foam bats to hang around the apartment office along with egg crate spiders. (This was pre-pinterest, people. This is craftiness you actually had to work for, no one handed it to me on a silver platter of cuteness.) I put together a myriad of fun games and a costume contest, put the flyers out for the party and hit up Costco. (Oh Costco, how I long for you. You are the superior bulk shopping store.) No…wait…I was distracted by my bias for Costco vs. Sams Club. I did not buy the candy at Costco I bought it at Target. And yes, that detail does matter. You will need to have an idea of the approximate size of the bags of candy I bought…and I have a sweet tooth, but not quite at the Costco level. Anyway. One of the nice things about our apartment manager was that he asked that we only buy name brand products. He didn’t want the events looking janky. (janky: homemade but not in the good way, unprofessional, pieced together, makeshift. Pronounced: jane-key) So I arrived home with four, count them- four variety bags of name brand candy. The afternoon of Halloween we set up our adorable party and waited for the party goers and trick or treaters to come by on their way out for a night of fun. And we waited….and we waited. And then our two couple friends who lived in the complex came by. Then thankfully a really sweet family with a really sweet toddler came by (we could always count on them). And then…the occasional resident paying their rent would notice our party and grab a little candy while they waited. Seven. Seven people and one dog. Seven people, one dog, and four bags of candy. Nine people if you count Austin and me. We waited it out for the painstaking two hours that the party was scheduled for and then packed up and went home.

Maybe it was the pain of event failure. Maybe it was the pregnancy. I’m almost sure it wasn’t my utter lack of self-control. Whatever the reason…that candy haunted me in the days following the party.  One bag of candy had been left in the office, one bag of candy had been prematurely opened in anticipation of a big turn out for the party, and two bags remained unopened. It made perfect sense that we would save that candy and use it at future events. In fact, now that I’m writing it out…I think I might have actually stolen that candy by technicality, since it was for our residents. So in my weakness I started treating myself to a little lunch time mini candy bar or two. Then eventually that became a lunch candy and a mid afternoon candy. Then, before I knew it, I had found the bottom of that bag. I needed more. So I dove into the next bag of variety candy. It was the good stuff people, Kit Kat, Snickers, Butterfinger, M&M’s. I quickly realized that Austin would never approve of the complete and utter gluttony I was entertaining. So I did what any good wife would do when she is faced with the decision between her man and her sugar. I hid the sugar. This kept my man in blissful ignorance and my sweet tooth satisfied. I would give this marriage advice to anyone. We had a ridic-U-lous kitchen with the best storage EVER. It was so easy to hide that candy. All wadded up in the back corner of the lower cabinet beside the pantry, I can still see it. When I started eating more than two four six candies a day…I began to hide the wrappers between different trashcans or bury the wrappers under at least three other larger pieces of trash. As you can see…it was a problem. And that problem came to (some) light one fateful prenatal appointment. Like any good dad with a weird hodge podge of jobs, Austin came with me to every appointment but one. At this appointment I was supposed to gain between one and two pounds. I gained at least six. And that’s when my wonderful, Christian, cowboy, fatherly, doctor told me blunty in front of my still newly wedded husband, that two pounds of my weight gain was for my baby and the rest was just me.

That’ll get ya.

So I finished up that bag of candy and then decided that I wouldn’t buy more. Wow, I can just bask in the light of that discipline and wisdom. I mean really, that took guts.

And so was the tale of the many mini candy bars. A couple of YEARS later, I confessed to Austin. And it went something like this “Remember how I mysteriously got so huge with Lyric and with the other kids I haven’t had that happen? Well…..” And to this day I have to take extreme measures to keep my addiction under control. If you follow me on instagram, you are almost guaranteed to see a picture of my three self allotted Halloween candies. I’m already excited! I love you, candy.

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Where Do I Put My Hands?

Baby number 3 is born! Fletcher Colby Tullos was welcomed into our lives at 12:09am Tuesday, February 19th weighing 6lbs 12oz and 20 inches long. The last three weeks have been wonderful. Fletcher is the most perfect chill baby. And for all the people who say that bringing the third one home is the easiest, they were totally right. Austin and I are both secure about who we are as parents and that has made all the difference in bringing home a newborn. But regardless of how wonderful the past three weeks have been, there have still been some major adjustments.

First of all--lets just address this with a little humor shall we? I'm sure we can all think up like a million things that are harder or more chaotic about life with three. Let's just let all of that go without saying.

1. Where do I put my hands now? I was just at a wedding and while I was standing there catching up with friends I had a super awkward moment when I felt like my hands had morphed into huge Mickey Mouse cartoon glove hands...and I had no where to put them. Minus three months, I had been pregnant for almost two years! No matter how tiny your belly is, when pregnant, your hands get to rest on your belly, or rub it, or hold your lower back for extra support. It's one of the perks of pregnancy (which still does not make up for the fact that you can't have any sushi for nine months). Not having a baby in the ole uterus is forcing me to retrain my whole posture and learn how to stand and talk like a normal adult again.

2. How much caffeine is too much caffeine? I don't know. When I stop and ask myself this question, I have a cup of coffee and think it over. Then I decide that was a stupid question.

3. What day is it?

4. I have got to stop forgetting when I am watching a recorded show on my DVR during a late night feeding. When the weather man says "Several more inches of snow expected tomorrow!"...that doesn't really mean actual tomorrow. Calm down.

5. The biggest adjustment I've had to make since bringing Fletch home is a mental and emotional one. I was so totally unprepared for all the joy and all the love and all the goodness. And yep, it's harder and crazier and busier--but all the joy and all the good stuff just overshadows it all so much. It's just not a thing. I mean...it's a thing and it's real....but come on...no one who has lived it would trade it and there is a reason. I know I'm only three weeks in, but what I'm lacking in experience can be counteracted by what I'm lacking in sleep. So I think I have ground to stand on when I say I really do actually love our crazy 3 under 3 life.

Now excuse me...my daughter is licking the hinge on our back door....got to run!

Please have a laugh at my expense, please

So if I have to be in total annoyance and discomfort because our daughter refuses to get a move on....I'm going to share a story about it! (And no...I'm not past my due date, I still have two days before I hit week 40 but I'm not good at waiting!)

So first of all I need to give mad props to Hannah Slay, this girl brought over Chili's queso and salsa with a 12 pack of decaf Dr Pepper yesterday for a Galentines day of sorts while our hubbies worked. It was fabulous. A pregnant woman literally could not ask for more. While I was shuffling in the queso I told her where I'm at. I think this sentence pretty much sums it up for me. "Literally every moment that I'm not in labor I'm annoyed." Those who know me know that I tend to be "animated" (as I like to call it) or "dramatic" (as some of you like to call it). Either way I am still happy at the core and very joyful...but also...I mean come on...its annoying to wait! It's especially annoying when you are tormented by the memory of labor and delivery being the most painful and difficult thing you have ever done, but also excitement of the best reward and the highest high on Earth when your child is "out."

So the second thing you need to know is that Austin, my amazing husband, has become quite the sleep talker/mover in the last 9 months. Maybe its a sympathy thing? I'm pretty positive I'm the one who is supposed to have weirdness when sleeping. Anyway, about a week ago Austin had this very sudden "twitch" or something in his sleep and I guess his hands were over his head and he hit our headboard so hard. I woke up terrified and he immediately calmed me down and explained that it was him. In that moment when my heart was racing more than it has in the past 7 months (give or take) I thought to myself "good grief I think I might get scared into labor." But alas...we were not so lucky.

So...last night Austin passed out asleep on the couch (something which I should disclose...NEVER happens) so we headed to bed early. Since I wasn't too sleepy (and still annoyed that another day had passed, but really happy because one of my best friends did get to welcome her baby boy into the world) I killed time playing on my phone---ouch...ouch...dude my belly is rock hard---ouch....ahhh, relief. WAIT! That was a contraction! Started in my back and moved forward-check. Started gradually and got worse and then tapered off-check. Lasted about two minutes-check. Rock hard uterus-check. HALLELUJAH! I'll wait for one more before I start writing down times. tick tock tick tock...18 minutes later--ouch ouch...rock hard belly...ouch...relief. YES. 10:18pm. Eighteen minutes of "flood it" games on my phone later...ouch ouch-rock hard...ouch...ahh. YES. Then only ten minutes...then I started drifting to sleep. I was so tired, and I knew that the next one would wake me up and until then I really needed to rest. It took me ten minutes to settle my mind down and fall asleep again...but by that point I was so tired that I didn't fully realize that since I wasn't in another contraction yet, I was probably not going to be. Anyway, after finally falling asleep after listening to Austin sleeping so peacefully for over an hour....I was dead asleep and then ...OUCH! But no. NO. Not that kind of ouch. The kind of ouch where someone just punched me in the butt. I thrash my head very dramatically to look at Austin and he is still sleeping. Ok, this is ridiculous, but I guess he is sleep...punching or something. Whatever. Close my eyes....OUCH...another punch and then "BOO!"
Yea "boo"...are you freaking kidding me?! You are really doing that whole if-I-like-you-I'll-be-mean-to-you-flirting...in your sleep?? Oh Austin. I sit up and say "What....(dramatic pause) are you doing? Wake up." Austin (as cute and innocently as can be) "I'm scaring you into labor." Me: "Are you awake? You had better not be awake." No response. (I should add that it is typical for him to respond with something ridiculous in the moment and then not remember at all in the morning and think the whole ordeal is hilarious.) Me: "You had best not remember this in the morning." (aka you better be sleeping, cause that and only that can save you.)

Words cannot describe how mad I was. And of course this morning my sweet husband tells me good morning and offers to bathe Lyric for me. First, I take him up on it and tell him good morning. Then I ask if he remembers last night. Of course he doesn't. And once again he thinks it's hilarious. He then proceeds to blame me, that perhaps I dreamed it. But then incriminates himself by adding "that's weird though cause a couple of times before bed I thought about trying that while we were watching TV."

I don't know if anyone out there can relate to this waiting game, or if anyone thinks that this is remotely funny. But it is ridiculous, so I had to share it. Please get a good chuckle out of our ridiculous-ness. And if you have any labor inducing tips...use the comment box!

Oh Poo

This post is mainly written for my sweet and sassy friend Adrienne. She once confessed to me that she secretly (sorry Aige, I guess the secret is out) wished little mishaps and misadventures on me because she loves reading and/or hearing my over-dramatic and ridiculous recounts of them. 


So recently I was changing Lyric's diaper, a very poopie and fully loaded diaper, and it was just like any other changing--at first. Like any other changing because Lyric squirmed and half-rolled over as I attempted to clean and re-diaper him, as usual I had to put a toy right on his chest, forcing him to lay straight on his back to play with it. All went well...a diaper change success! Then something happened (and I don't say "something" because I am trying to build your curiosity, I honestly don't remember what exactly happened) I must have gotten a phone call or had to answer the door or sign for a delivery....something that required me to quickly wrap up the dirty diaper, abandon it, throw up the baby gate, and walk away briefly. After what could have only been 30 seconds, I walked back over to Lyric and saw him sitting up and so alert, cutely playing with a toy with all his concentration. At first I couldn't see what toy Lyric was playing with because of an ottoman thingy that was just barely disrupting my line of vision. Then, as I walked up close to Lyric and the presumed "toy," I was horrified. Lyric had unwrapped the dirty diaper (ok, yes..I know, at this point you think I am both a disgusting individual for leaving a dirty diaper on my floor and a horrible mom for leaving the diaper not only on the floor, but within reach of a child....try to push past those feelings), not only had he opened it, but he had discovered his very own homemade creation....poop. At this point he had two fistfuls of poop that he was watching himself squeeze and mold like play-dough. Oh and I should mention that our dog Max was totally in on the action, but he was much more concerned about the diaper full of free...food. Thank you God, Lyric had not thought to taste his new play thing. I rushed over and picked Lyric up carrying him outward and trying to hold his hands away from his mouth. Immediately went to the sink to wash the poop out and off of his hands. I hesitated...what would be worse? Switching venues thus delaying Lyric's hygienic needs for a moment and going to a bathtub or at least a bathroom sink to rinse away poop...or to take care of this where I am, the kitchen...a place where food is prepared and cooked but allowing me to clean my son as quickly as possible??? I choose the second, and found that washing the hands of a 7 month old who doesn't want them washed is near impossible. I must have washed his hands 20 times before I got all the poop out of every crevasse. Then it was my turn. And then back to the carpet and the dog.

We recovered and none of us got worms from our poop interaction, which...now that I think about it, is probably a miracle of sorts. So... I will leave you with this sentiment. No matter what comes up, no matter what distractions, no matter what emergency, always ALWAYS throw the dirty diapers away first.