“How old are your children?”

I am asked this question frequently.

“Neala is two. Lincoln is 18 months. And the twins are 7 months.”, I say.

I see them doing the math in their head and try not to grimace because I know what’s coming. After they’ve crunched the numbers, these are the typical responses:

“Oh my goodness, you have four children under three?”
Yes. Yes, I do.  I did not plan on having four children in three and a half years, all in a row like a baby factory. But the hospital was running a special on adorable newborns and I really wanted a collection of those large cups they give you after delivery.

“Wow. You must have your hands full.”
I want to kick them in the shins. But daddy says this isn’t kind. So instead of violence, I smile and tell them I am definitely busy.

“You are a supermom.”
Nope. Just super tired.

“Don’t you know how this happens?”
I want to just stare at them. Make it good and awkward.
But I don’t. Mommy does the right thing and forces out a courtesy laugh.
I tell them I mailed a letter to Santa asking for a baby and he just kept sending storks. Isn’t that how everyone gets a kid?

Neala, your third birthday is in 19 days. I am excited for the obvious reasons. Watching your eyes light up when you open presents, giggly toddler friends, eating all most of your leftover cake once you’ve gone to bed.
But the main reason I am so excited is because you won’t be “under three” anymore.

Now people will ask, “You have four children under four?” and I will proudly tell them yes.

Four under four sounds much more balanced and manageable. Then again, I change 14-16 diapers a day, so manageable might mean something different to me than most people.

When I was pregnant with Lincoln, a dear friend came to visit. She and her husband joked with me about “becoming a real parent” once I had a second child.  Boy, were they right.  Two kids are definitely more work than one.
If two kids makes you a real parent, then more than three should win some sort of award.

Four under four sounds like a new hit series on TLC. Or a best selling book.
If the show or book doesn’t work out, I feel at the least I should be able to wear a badge or medal.  It would read, “I kept four children alive today.”

Having four children under three is hard.  Stupid hard.

I cry often. I lose my patience. I battle mom guilt, wife guilt, friend guilt and all the other guilts.

But I laugh more than I cry. Your daddy helps me relax when I’m on the edge of crazy town. We have help from the sweetest ladies in the history of the universe. And even on the longest day, snuggles and grins from four kiddos is like pouring liquid sunshine in my soul.
I wouldn’t trade my four under three for anything.
Except maybe five under three.

#justkidding
#yeahright
#nothappening

Neala,

Yesterday you made mommy sad.
You didn’t mean to, but you did.

You went with me to the grocery because you are currently the easiest child to bring anywhere.  We only needed a few things, so I got the cart with the car attached. It’s a monster to navigate in and out of aisles. But you loved sitting in it pretending to drive, waving at all the other customers.

I let you “drive” the cart out of the store to the parking lot and I quickly loaded the bags.

“Sissy, it’s time to get in. Let’s go.”

Hesitation. Nervous smile. Fidgety hands.

I noticed your hands were trying to cover something up. Something you had attempted to hide in the rolls of your shirt.

And that’s when my heart sank.
You had stolen peanut butter crackers.

“Did we pay for those crackers?”, I asked.

You hung your head in shame.

I walked you back into the store to return the crackers. You were as quiet as a mouse, your face frozen in fear. I explained to the store employee that you had taken the crackers and we had not paid for them. You wouldn’t speak when I asked you to apologize. You buried your head in my shoulder and again my heart broke.

The drive home was painfully quiet. Normally we sing songs, or you tell me some ridiculously long, exaggerated story. I asked if you wanted to pray and asked Jesus to forgive you for stealing. You whispered, “Yes.”, and repeated a short prayer with me.

Once we got home and told daddy the story, you sat in time out for 2 minutes. The great thing about kids is, you seem to bounce back fairly quickly. Ten minutes later you were happily playing with Linky and the twins. Things were back to normal.

Only not for me.

While I assumed this day would come for most (if not all) my children, I did not anticipate this day coming quite so soon for you.

I felt so sad when I saw you trying to hide those crackers. My mommy heart was disappointed because you had done something wrong. Even though I know it’s not true, I felt it was a reflection of my parenting. As if I had done something wrong.

Like most people, I thought my kids would be golden. My children wouldn’t throw fits in restaurants or stores. They wouldn’t act selfish or bratty when they didn’t get their way. My children wouldn’t lie. Or steal.

Then I had kids.
I quickly realized no child is perfect. No child is the exception.
I sent an apology to all the parents in the universe I had ever glared at in restaurants and stores when their children acted “not so golden”.

I remembered a story from when I was a little girl.
I too, accompanied my mother to the grocery store. I too, stole something from the checkout aisle. Namely, beef jerky.

When my mother discovered I had taken it, she turned the car around and marched me back into the store.  I was older than you are, around first or second grade.  She asked for the manager and made me apologize. It was horribly embarrassing, and to this day I won’t eat beef jerky. I suppose the proverbial apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree, eh?

Neala, what you did was wrong. But it’s ok. One poor choice doesn’t mean you are a bad kid. Or that I’m a bad mother.

Yesterday I was sad. But I’m fine today. I realized this was the first of many teachable moments.

And not just for you.
Mommy was reminded how many times I make poor choices. Thankfully, we serve a God who is ever patient with us. He loves us and forgives us every.single.time.
Even when we are “not so golden”.

P.S. Yes, I did take a picture of you trying to hide the crackers. My phone was in my pocket and I quickly took it before kneeling down to ask you about them. I will need it as proof when you are older and insist you were my golden child.  😉