I wrote last year about Lincoln being my favorite child. It was one of my most popular posts, and if you missed it you can catch it here.

More than a few people have asked if Link is still my favorite. I feel it’s only appropriate (and fair) to update the “favorite” status.

Lincoln is NOT the favorite anymore. I mean, he’s two. Which means one day he loves chicken and noodles and the next day he’s stomping his foot screaming “Don’t wan it!” It also means hiding veggies in sister’s Barbie car while mommy is feeding the twins.

Emmy is the tinest and messiest human disposal I’ve ever met. No matter what she’s eating, she will smear it all over her face and hair. Later when we change her diaper, she’s managed to shove some food in the back of her diaper. Little noodle butt doesn’t even have a shot at favorite.

Jack is much neater when he eats. Mainly because he is the pickiest eater on the planet. (Yes, I have met every picky child on the planet, and they all pale in comparison.) He will quietly and calmly throw every.stinkin.piece.of.food on the floor while we aren’t looking. Then proudly grins as if he’s done something grand. Despite our efforts to discipline him, we could feed a fifth child with all the food he continues to drop.

Neala. Sweet, helpful, big sister of the tribe. Since turning three, she has really matured and her quick wit and sarcasm makes us laugh every day. She’s also bossy and can drop an attitude bigger than Texas. Here’s a recent conversation:
“Neala, you need to lose your attitude.”
“You need to lose yours mommy.”

Nope, she ain’t the fave.

If you’ve done the math, I’m out of children.
Truth be told, none of my children are my favorite right now. They are all snotty and messy and needy.

I’m the favorite because I do most the work.

That’s right, I said it. And I’m not ashamed. I could be wrong, but I feel like all the mamas are nodding right now?

Because you do too. 

Ironically, the ones who care for everyone often put caring for themselves last on the list. I know I ain’t the only one on day two of dry shampoo.

Here’s my unsolicited advice to all the mamas:

Buy the shoes.
Or the shirt. Or whatever makes you feel fabulous. When you have some extra money, spend it on yourself and NOT the kids. They’re probably going to stain any clothes you buy them anyway.

Stop eating last.
If you’re like me, you usually end up eating lukewarm food at the end of the meal. Someone needed you to blow on their hot noodles. Someone wants more. Or someone had a meltdown because they’ve recently decided they only want sugar for dinner. Your kids won’t starve if you sit down and eat while it’s hot. And no one will dehydrate if their sippy is empty for a few minutes.

Sneak the snacks
Guuurrlll….ain’t no judgement here. If you want to hide in the pantry so you can eat an Oreo, I proudly support your decision. You are keeping tiny humans alive. Chocolate is necessary and deserved. You are still a good mother if you inhale a few each day, then change the hiding place so your children (or husband) can’t find them.

Get out of the house.
Put yourself first at least once a week and feel zero guilt about it. Schedule time away from your family and come back a better person. When I’m trapped in the house with my tribe for too long, I turn into a sleepy toddler. Irritable and whiney. Everyone and everything becomes more tolerable after I’ve had a break.

Now ya’ll can say you don’t have a favorite child and you treat all your children the same. But I can’t say that or my nose will grow like a wooden puppet. My children have all taken turns being the favorite and they all enjoy it because I tend to favor the favorite.

When I decide to take a turn at the top, I feel guilty and selfish. I worry my husband will be angry and my children will end up in therapy. Thankfully my guilts only lasts about 2.8 seconds. Once I start taking better care of myself, (aka-sneaking snacks and meeting other mamas for dinner) I become a better version of myself.

Join me in first place mamas.
It’s ok to be the favorite today.

Have you ever tried to reason with a two year old? How does it work out for you?
Yeah…doesn’t work for me either.

My middle child has recently fallen into the dreaded pit of “terrible twos”. He wants to eat watermelon or popsicles for dinner. We offer something slightly more nutritious and he howls like a wolf and manages to push out real tears.

When we put him in timeout for kicking the twins, he begins a succession of high-pitched cries. Only after a few seconds, he’s not really crying. He’s just making noise. Unbearable noise. His punishment becomes our punishment.

I kneel down to his level and explain why he’s in timeout. He can’t hear my reasoning because he’s screaming. Even after we release him from timeout, he continues wailing in short bursts of annoying ridiculousness.

Timeout is normally a chair in the living room. The other day, in a moment of desperation my husband decided to change things up. Our rotten beloved son was having an epic meltdown, and we couldn’t take it one more second. He calmly walked him into the sunroom, AKA the room with a door and excellent sound barriers.

Admittedly, I was not a fan at first. The hubs assured me it was fine because the door was glass, and he could reach the handle. I noticed within seconds the ear piercing cries stopped. He didn’t get worse or bang on the door. He didn’t try to come out. He stood there completely content, as if nothing had happened. Wait…what?

A few days later I tried it for myself. I could feel his emotional tornado gaining speed. I held his sticky hand and led him over the magic threshold into the sunroom. Abracadabra…it worked again. My sour kid turned sweet before I could close the door. Crazy how they shut it off so quickly, right?

Now, I’m not trying to go all Mary Poppins on you. I don’t really think our threshold has magic powers. But I do think there is something to be said about resetting.

This evening after I used the magic threshold for the 85^th time, I said a prayer. I asked God to help me remember to cross over and reset. When I’m overwhelmed by housework and needy children. Or when I feel lost in the busyness of my schedule.

I can’t physically go into the sunroom. (Ya’ll know the kiddos would just follow me.) However, I can stop and imagine myself crossing the threshold emotionally. Crazy how quickly my attitude changes when I let God take me by the hand and calm me down.
When I cross over into His presence, my problems start to shrink. Sure, the kids are still sick, and the bills won’t pay themselves. But stepping over the threshold changes my perspective. It changes my attitude. It changes me.

Join me today in crossing over. Reset yourself. You’ll be glad you did.

(Now if I could just find a magic threshold for potty training…)

I have a serious problem…

When it comes to housework, I’ve created a sticky situation. I complain when my husband doesn’t help with housework. Then I criticize when he does. Am I the only wife who repeatedly asks her husband to load the dishwasher, only to rearrange everything five minutes later? Poor fella can’t win.

Proverbs 27:15 tell us, “A quarrelsome wife is as annoying as constant dripping on a rainy day.” Since I’m not very quarrelsome, obviously this verse doesn’t apply to me. I’m not actually picking a fight. He should be happy I’m showing him a better way to do what he’s doing, right? Wouldn’t you be glad if someone showed you the best way to fold a towel?

But then I read further. . Verse 16 says, “Stopping her complaints is like trying to stop the wind or trying to hold something with greased hands.” When I read this I think of our littles getting out of the bath. Those first few minutes when they’re wet and slippery. We’re trying to get them dressed, and they just want to run around naked yelling, “Booty, booty!” Some nights it’s funny. Other nights it’s frustrating and feels like trying to hold something with greased hands.

A different version of these verses smacks me right in the face.
“A nagging spouse is like
    the drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet;
You can’t turn it off,
    and you can’t get away from it.” (The Message)

My husband is an incredible husband and father. If you knew how much he helps around the house and spent time with our children you would shame me. Yet, my OCD tendencies make me gravitate toward the way he does things, rather than the help itself. Drip, drip, drip…

The irony in all of this is our kitchen sink started dripping last month. So irritating. If you don’t push the handle to a certain spot, it runs or drips, wasting water and money. We keep saying we’re going to replace it, but don’t. It’s only getting worse, so repairing or replacing it is inevitable.

Like my dripping sink, I’m wasting time and energy by complaining. I keep saying I will do something about it, then I don’t. But enough is enough.

I’ve made a goal to replace my drippy droppy mouth with a mouthful of gratefulness. For an entire month, I’m not going to complain. I will appreciate everything he does. Instead of criticizing, I will thank him.

I’m hoping this lasts longer than an hour and a half.