Category: Mara-Speak

Bedrest Moments I’d Just as Soon Forget. . .

Posted on by Becky

Although I’m a long-time MckMama and Stellan follower, I’ve never before participated in “Not Me! Monday.” But now that I’ve been on bedrest for a month and a half, there are some blog posts in which the only way to save any remaining dignity is to participate in this meme.

It seems almost impossible for me (as a mom of a 3yo and 19 month-old) to coordinate (from my “manager’s office” in bed) everything that needs to be happening for this young family. And we are blessed with the best of help.

But life happens. So for now, stuff continually falls through the cracks. I’m desperately trying to be okay with that, for my own sanity, and so my family can stand to live with me.

Which is why I need to be okay with my son wearing his shoes on the wrong feet or wearing a shirt too small, with sleeves that barely reach his elbows, or pants too long that continually drop to the floor. . .

And why I have to be okay with snowy footprints people have tracked in on the hardwoods (I can’t mop) and crumbs all over the dining room floor after lunch (I can’t sweep) and toys everywhere (I’m not supposed to squat or bend down)!

But, despite the fact that in the moment this stuff seems so overwhelming, when I stop to really think, it’s actually rather mundane–not incredibly blog-worthy–just part of bedrest life.

So while I want to say ‘not me,’ I really just need to “Deal!” as my three-year-old tells me.

Last week though, I experienced a genuine “Not Me!” moment. The kids’ baths have been falling through the cracks. This is one I have trouble dealing with. It’s basic toddler hygiene, you know. And one of those things they just can’t do for themselves yet.

One morning, from my bedrest post on the couch, I caught a whiff of my three-year-old daughter and called to my husband (from the living room to the kitchen). “Daniel! Mara stinks—like poop! It’s been six days since the kids have had baths now!” I’m sure my voice was a bit edgy, since I was already annoyed about the whole bath thing. As soon as I said it, I knew I had made a big mistake.

My poor poor child looked completely dejected and deflated, as she spoke in a hushed voice, “I don’t ‘stink–like poop’.”

Then Mara picked up her phone to call her imaginary friend (Tosta) who apparently sleeps on the twin bed in her room, when there are no guests staying with us.

“Hi, Tosta,” she said. “My mom and dad say I ‘stink like poop.’–I don’t ‘stink like poop’! . . . I need your help, Tosta. . .  Please help me. Bye.”

She pressed the button to end the imaginary phone call, glancing at me with hurt in her eyes.

I did not know what to do or say. It was true! I wished I hadn’t said it, but now I couldn’t take it back. So I just hugged her and told her she would have a bath today, and she would smell nice after her bath.

Then I walked into the kitchen and collapsed (crying) in my husband’s arms. . . .

Surely I’m not the mom whose kids went six days without baths.

Surely I’m not the mom who yelled through the house in front of her daughter that she stunk like poop!

Surely my daughter isn’t the one who has to call her imaginary friend for support when Mom insults her . . .

A definite “not me” moment.

Random Mara Quotes

Posted on by Becky

Even though I haven’t really had time for blogging during the past two months, I jotted down a few Mara quotes now and then. Quotes I wanted to remember. Here are a few:

After we picked up my sister (“Aunt Mary”) at the airport, Mara burst into the house with more enthusiasm than I can describe, exclaiming, “Daddy! Do you want to meet Mommy’s niece?!?!?!?!”

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I’m learning that she picks up on a lot of the things I say, and repeats them.  One day, while my family was here, Mara told me: “Today my day is horrible! My house is not cleaned yet. It is horrible!”

Yikes. Maybe I should be re-defining “horrible” for my daughter.

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Mara’s toys were spread all over the floor, and as she tried to get through, she said, “Excuse me, beads. Can you move along?”

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Recently Micah has been blowing “raspberries” all the time. For some reason, this really irritates Mara. (She calls it “beeping,” as in ‘Micah keeps beeping at me!’) So while she was on the phone with Daddy (who was at work), she said, “I don’t want Micah to be spitting at me and beeping at me. Micah needs to get a spanking. [There was silence on her father’s end of the line]. . . Daddy? . . .  ANSWER me!”

Later in the same conversation: “We are sinners! We have sin in our hearts. . . I am reading the Bible, so don’t talk. . . We need GRACE! Come ONNNNNN!!!!!”

Wow.

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My dear friend Stephanie gave Mara her book A Pocket for Corduroy. In the front cover she inscribed, “To Mara Joy. From Kathryn Kuchle [Stephanie’s daughter, who is a year older than Mara].” Whenever we read, A Pocket for Corduroy, I read the inscription.

Yesterday morning Mara was going around saying “I’mmmm Kathryn Kuchle! . . . Remember the nice lady that gave me Corduroy?” So I told her that actually Kathryn was a little three-year-old girl, almost the same age as Mara.

Ironically, that day’s mail brought the Kuchles’ Christmas picture! So I showed her Kathryn Kuchle and her little brother Tyler. Mara carried the picture around saying, “Look! It’s Kathryn Kuchle!–She’s cuter than me.” And then she would ask random questions, like, “How do you spell ‘Kathryn Kuchle’?”

Then a couple weeks later, I overheard Mara telling Daniel, “See this chair? It’s from Tyler’s mother. And not Kathryn Kuchle’s brother Tyler’s mother. It’s from the Tyler down the street with the father named Bo.” . . . I just had to laugh, because she doesn’t really even know my friend Stephanie, or her daughter Kathryn, but she still includes them in conversation regularly (even more than I do!). 🙂

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Also, this should be obvious, but never tell a toddler about a surprise.

Mara to Aunt Mary: “It’s your birthday! And we have a surprise for you! And we’re going to have CUPcakes!” [It actually wasn’t her birthday. We were just going to celebrate while my family was together. So much for the element of “surprise.”]

Mara thought for a minute. She is going to be three on Christmas Day, and she equates “birthday” with “Christmas.” So she asked the logical question, since Aunt Mary is clearly old than three: “Will you be four at your birthday on Christmas?”

Some Evidence that Watching TV Makes You Stupid

Posted on by Becky

A lot of times when a 2-year-old quotes you, she’ll get the quote just right enough for you to understand what she’s referring to, but just wrong enough to be amusing.

The other day Mara said to me, “Daddy said I couldn’t watch too much TV because Bugs Bunny makes you ‘tupid! [stupid]”

I think he probably said something to the effect that she couldn’t watch too much Bugs Bunny, because watching too much TV makes you stupid. I tried to clear it up. I’m not sure if she really understood or not.

But here’s a picture from last night, that just confirms watching too much television makes you stupid.

Here they are watching Clifford.

(Note especially the one in the middle!)

WatchingClifford

SOMEbody Has To Keep Us in Line

Posted on by Becky

After Hubby Dear got home from a long-days’-work the other night, I was sharing with him all my aches and pains, pregnancy woes, and trauma the children had inflicted on me in his absence (okay, so I was dumping on him) and suddenly Mara piped up:

“Mommy? You’re not really. . . crying, but you’re being kind of . . . whiney,” my 2-year-old informed me in the most gracious tone you can imagine with a statement like that. “And big girls don’t whine about a thing like that. So you should stop whining.”

After her soliloquy, she stood silently waiting for my response. Once again, my two-year-old had rendered me speechless.

As you might imagine, my husband was smirking with amusement and hesitantly remarked, “She has a point.”

But Mara also keeps Daddy in line.

For instance, she saw that he hadn’t finished the lunch I sent to work with him. So when he came home, she said, “Daddy? You didn’t eat your chicken. And when you don’t eat your chicken and you leave it sitting out all day, then it goes bad and Mommy has to throw it out. So you should really eat your chicken.” She nodded, for emphasis, and added: “You should eat the lunch that Mommy gave you.”

It’s tough being responsible for parents like these when you’re just two years old.