The Worst Hour

Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour.
--from "The Children's Hour" by William Wordsworth

This poem was written by Wordsworth to remember the special time he spent with his children each day. I am not a poetic scholar, but this poem, which I used to teach in my classroom, crosses my mind quite often.
Our family has a "children's hour" of sorts after showers are taken each night. The boys can pick if they would rather play with us or read books. Because of their early bedtimes, time does not allow for both. I look forward to this time every day when we can play and be together with them. It will be nice as Teresa gets older and can join us, too. She likes to start her beauty sleep at 7pm most nights, which is usually when I am just finishing the dishes.
But--there is an hour prior to that which is not at all poetic like Wordsworth's. At precisely 5:30pm the boys start to chase each other around the house, Teresa gets fussy, toys start to fly, & the screaming starts (from both the children and myself) all as I try to make supper. It is the "Worst Hour." It does not matter what kind of day we have had. Worst Hour is a given. Every Worst Hour is much the same and usually ends with the boys being banished to the basement until their dad comes in the house.
It is not just my children who are affected by this time of day. I feel it, too. At that time, the main work of the day has been completed, it is too late to start any projects on the kitchen table, our favorite TV shows are over, and I am ready to see my husband again. We are all trapped together with nothing better to do than get on each others nerves as the minutes slowly crawl toward 6:30pm.
I wonder if Wordsworth's wife had Worst Hour, too. If she did, I would like to read her poem . . . .

Picking Up

I watched a documentary on hoarding last night while I walked on my treadmill. The topic always intrigues me--probably because the people with that disorder are the exact opposite of me. While they need things to make them feel organized, clutter makes me nervous.
They interviewed Melodie, a woman who is completely overcome by this disorder. She can't work and therapy has been unsuccessful. Her apartment has barely a path to walk through and even organizing one shelf--with a counselor's help--overwhelmed her. At the end she was being evicted because of her many fire code violations.
Well, maybe the counselor couldn't help Melodie, but she sure had me examining my living space. Why was that shirt still lying on the chair? Why wasn't that laundry put away? I could hardly wait to finish my mile before I put those things away that I had become blind to. I then moved on to the kitchen and picked up more odds and ends before heading to bed. Of course, most of those things have been replaced with other things today since since five people do live here, but it made me feel better to have my house looking put together until morning.
Thankfully, hoarding is not one of my problems (except maybe when Bath & Body Works has a great sale). But, I do have a tendency to become blind to the things that get scattered around the house on a daily basis. And then there are the things I never do, like scrub my stovetop or clean my oven. I am blind to that until my mom visits and tells me I really should do those things once in a awhile (or she cleans my stove for me). Thanks again, Mom!

Girly Girl

Let me start by saying I would not trade my boys for anything. That being said, I also REALLY like dressing up my girl!
When she was just a few hours old I realized with great excitement that she only had a pack of 3 pink sleepers to her name. I had SHOPPING to do!
If a Clearance/Sale Rack/Thrift Store mom can be out of control, I am afraid I might be. As with the boys, I buy for Teresa a year in advance. Christmas dresses are pretty year after year--in fact, they are even prettier at 50% off full price! I was giddy as I bought her first pair of white patent leather shoes last Easter . . . and when I bought the black ones for this past Christmas.
Now that she is getting a little bit of hair, I have started investing in barrettes and, most recently, tiny hair elastics. The result, of course, is the "Pebbles Do."
Until she is old enough to choose what she wants to wear, this mom is having the time of her life.

Nater

Although I always find the naming of our babies one of the most fun preparations for their birth, I make sure David and I follow two rules. My first rule is that we show up to the hospital with both a boy and a girl's name. (With the exception of Nathan in which an amniocentesis confirmed without a doubt that his mapped out genes said BOY.)
Parents expect a baby for nine months. There are only two possibilities of what it could be. There is no reason why they cannot not sit down sometime in those 270+ days and choose 2 possible names. It always floors me when babies are Baby Boy or Baby Girl for a day or so after birth. Were those parents secretly hoping for a puppy? I don't get it. But, anyway . . . .
While choosing, I am always careful to pick a name that (hopefully) won't be immediately shortened into a nickname. It's not that I find shortened names bothersome for other people; I just have a thing with having my children called by their entire given names.
Before giving Nathan his name, we considered Nathaniel, but knew there was no hope of using that long name all of the time. So, Nathan it was--on the condition that we would NOT call him Nate. We don't. We call him NATER.
When Landen was 2 1/2 and Nathan about 7 months, we took Landen to his first movie in a theatre--"Cars." It was there we met Mater the Tow Truck. Somehow we decided that our bald, blue-eyed baby boy should be Nater. And so it stuck. He has been answering to Nater ever since. In fact, his cousin Carter only calls him Nater. We use it probably about 50% of the time at home--the other 50% of the time he is "NATHAN DAVID, LEAVE YOUR SISTER/BROTHER ALONE!" It really is no wonder he prefers Nater.
I didn't realize how much this nickname has stuck him until we recently started practicing for Preschool Screening. I know, I know, Preschool Screening does not require practice, but I'm a teacher--I can't help it. Besides, I only made it to the very first question. I started out easy and asked him his name. He said, "Me Tater." So, I tried again. Next he was "Jesus Loves Me, This I Know" then "Jingle Bells". Finally he was adamant--"Me Nater Melius" and that is that!
Despite my best intentions before his birth, I fell into the nickname trap with my second born. I should have seen it coming. What do expect from the daughter of "Butter"?

A National Holiday?

Since we were in the Keys on Inauguration Day, the TV/radio sports show "Mike & Mike in the Morning" asked callers what sports-related law they would want the President to approve. One caller said that the day after Super Bowl should be a national holiday. I think that's a great idea. I bet teachers would especially like this law. Not only are they tired, but the students are grouchy from staying up later on Sunday night, too. At least I know my little boy was Grouchy (with a capital G) this morning. Sorry, Mrs. Lindhorst.