never stick to your guns.

Zack was a pill yesterday. Granted, he's a million times better than he used to be. His terrible twos almost did me in. He's not so much of a human tornado anymore (praise the Lord!) but he has an attitude 8X the size of his little body. Yesterday, he insisted on wearing a zillion costumes throughout the day. I wasn't exactly surprised because the child has lived 3/4 of his life dressed as a superhero. Problem was, he wasn't willing to put away his mess or get real clothes on when it was time to play at a friend's house in the afternoon.

Five minutes before I left to drop off Ben and Luke, I made the mistake of telling Zack that if he didn't put his piles of costumes away, then he would have to stay home with me and help me mop the floor. Sometimes threatening him actually motivates him to do what I say. This time it didn't. He flopped himself on the floor and whined about how there were too many costumes for him to pick up. Ben and Luke offered to do it for him and I said, "Absolutely not-- no way--over my dead body!" which turned Zack's whining into a full blown sob-fest.

Despite the crying, we piled into the car and drove the 5 blocks to our friends house. As Ben and Luke got out, I noticed that Zack was taking off his buckle-- as IF was going into play! I laughed at him and said, "Not so fast, buddy." Over his screaming, I calmly explained that not only were the costumes still on the floor in his bedroom, but he was currently dressed as Batman- which is not even a costume. (It's an old, faded pair of Ben's pajamas that have holes in the most peculiar places.) He was NOT allowed to go and play with his brothers who wear normal clothes -in public- and who clean up after themselves when they make big messes. Instead of playing, he was going to come home with me, put away all the costumes himself, get dressed in a decent outfit AND THEN help me mop the kitchen floor. If he did those three things, I might allow him to ring the doorbell when it was time to pick up his older brothers.

When we arrived home, I went upstairs with a sobbing 3 year old and eyed him as he slowly cleaned up his mess, one costume at a time. Then I watched him flop his body into a pair of shorts and a striped tee. Instead of putting him down for a nap (which is really what should have happened, but that's letting him off the hook too easy) I made him come downstairs and help me scrub the floor. It made the process so much longer, but when it was finished, I felt like Supermom. I even thought about wearing one of Zack's red capes while I vacuumed. By the time we picked up the older boys, Zack was finally back to his cheerful self. He skipped to the door and happily rung the doorbell. While walking back to the car, he exclaimed that he cleaned up all by himself AND helped me mop. I don't think his brothers were listening to word he said, but I was definitely smiling. I was really proud of myself Zack.

An hour later, the kids were playing together upstairs and I got out ingredients to make cookies for our low-key Friday night. The phone rang and I went into the dining room to answer it. The tile floor had long since dried from our mopping party-- but I didn't realize that Zack used lots and lots (and lots) of water to "mop" under the dining room table. As I walked passed the table, my bare-feet hit the puddle and my pregnant body went flying. It was a really hard fall. Luckily (I think) a dining room chair was close enough to catch me. My right armpit landed on the back of the chair and it came down on top of me. Like I said, I think I was lucky-- I could have hit my head on the tile or landed on the baby, etc. Instead, the solid wooden chair scraped my entire rib cage and bruised my armpit. I literally laid on the ground for a solid 2 minutes trying to mouth the words, "I've fallen and I can't get up." I was too injured to cry. All I could do was concentrate on breathing in and out. I never did answer the phone. I guarantee you, it was a telemarketer.

The baby doesn't seem to be hurt by the tragic event. He was moving ALL hours of the night. Sleeping during pregnancy is terribly uncomfortable... without a bruised rib cage. I spent hours just looking at the dark ceiling, cursing. Not because the baby was kicking-- I am grateful for that, but I couldn't get in a comfortable position to save my life. Every time I moved, I felt like sobbing. Motherhood really sucks sometimes. Why do we have to sacrifice SO MUCH? What do MEN have to go through that is even comparable to motherhood? Not fatherhood, that's for sure.

Anyway, while I was wide awake at 3 am, I was thinking about how much happier I would be if I just let Zack have his way. Who cares if the costumes didn't get cleaned up? I should have sent him to the neighbors, just grateful to get rid of him. Kids never learn the lessons you try to teach them, anyway. Trying to be a good mom is just NOT worth it. No matter what you do, how hard you work, your kids will always find a way to punish you. It's never easier to stick to your guns and try to discipline. In one way or another, THEY will sabotage you and win in the end. I am only writing to prove to future generations, that I did at least try. Chance are, Zack won't turn out to be a successful human being who contributes to society. But it's really not my fault. I did my best for almost 4 years. And now I must surrender.

Looking at the bright side of things, we have a busy Saturday ahead. Aaron has a tennis match this morning which means that I have the privilege of lugging all three boys to the Dr's office- (just a routine baby check up, not to see if one of my ribs is broken.) After the appointment, I get to stop at a school supply store to laminate some things for Zack's preschool class. THEN the four of us will go shopping for supplies for the ward BBQ (tonight) that I happen to be in charge of. Yeah! If that isn't enough to look forward to, let me mention that it's supposed to be a cool 103 degrees today. That's icing on the cake for an already hot, sleep-deprived pregnant woman. But don't worry about me, dear internet friends. A Walgreens just opened two blocks from my house. I will be stopping there before I do anything else---

** Saturday afternoon update** the dr. appt (technically, it was with my midwife) went well. The baby is definitely alive and well despite yesterday's fall. The kids were excellent and I gained 4 pounds this month... which officially makes me the heaviest I have ever weighed in my entire life. still 9 weeks of pound-age to go.

After the appt, we ran a few errands in the heat. The kids' heads were so sweaty and I felt terrible for dragging them around (but if we're getting technical here, it was Aaron's fault. I specifically make my appointments on saturdays so I don't have to lug the kids with me....) Anyway, they were total troopers. I told them if they were good, we could go to Wendy's. After we picked up our frosties, I parked outside the airport and we watched the airplanes take off. Zack decided he was finished only after a few spoonfuls of his ice cream-- and thought it would be a smart idea to give it to me while I was on my cell phone. But instead of handing it to me, he poured it on my lap. I was wearing a white skirt. We decided to can the last errand (buying all the supplies for the BBQ) and head home. This is again Aaron's fault.

After lunch, I had three options: swim, watch the BYU football game or take a nap. I decided to swim because who knows how many more afternoons I will get to relax in the sun. And also, I can lay on my stomach while laying in the pool. My bed is not so comfortable. I can't lay on my stomach, my back or my bruised right side. So swimming, it was. When we arrived at the pool it was sunny and warm. After 20 minutes in the water, dark clouds rolled in and it started to rain. Just my luck today. We packed up and headed home. Now I need to shower the chlorine out of my hair. I am sending Aaron to the store to pick up everything for the BBQ. He owes me.

ps. GO COUGS!