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Please, sweat the small stuff

Yesterday was a busy writing day. That means I didn’t read very much. Maybe that’s why I’m dwelling on one of the few blog posts I read? It was one of those typical posts an Experienced Mom writes to a New Mom where Experienced Mom tells New Mom to not sweat the small stuff, like crumbs. Then, I began writing a post, in my head. I called it A More Experienced Mom Gives Advice to an Experienced Mom Giving Advice to a New Mom.

No, no, no, take those crumbs seriously!

Not potty-trained by age 2? Guess what’s under that wedding gown?

Fingerprints on the wall are not charming.

For all that is good and pure, don’t buy the chocolate syrup.

Yes, the minivan is lame. Everyone is staring at you while you drive it.

Your stretch marks aren’t tiger stripes. They’re broken bands of protein.

The debate between canned and frozen green beans isn’t going to solve itself. Stay up at night worrying about it.

Screens. Everyone in your entire family looks at them far too much.

So, please sweat the small stuff. You need practice. Keep those pores open because by the time you have teenagers, a veritable Hoover Dam of sweat will strain your capacity. It needs an outlet—keep that angst flowing, lady. Don’t get the chocolate syrup because a decade later, it’s still chocolate syrup, only they add it to a half-gallon of milk and drink it in under 5 minutes. Without the chocolate syrup? It takes them at least 7 minutes.

Sweating Ollie's cup positioning, as it will lead to a lifetime of spilled drinks and dehydration.

A One-Boy Twelve-Drummers-Drumming

It’s the twelfth day of Christmas and Archie’s 5th birthday. I can hear the sound of a dozen drummers with 24 sticks striking in unison. It’s time to march to the beat, maybe high-stepping a few laps around the living room because January birthdays are usually inside affairs. By the time you get to this point in the song, you’re a little winded.

I guess I could say by the time you get to your seventh child, you’re a little winded, too.

This isn’t a bad thing. It makes you appreciate the seats offered. When Archie offers a seat, I take it.

He’s sweet. He’s more Eeyore than Tigger. He’s brave but worried about starting kindergarten in the fall. He takes huge delight in learning new skills. When he wakes in the morning, the first thing he does is get dressed. He’s the only person in our family who does this. There isn’t a tech device he can’t figure out.

Archie makes me think, makes me ponder my words, makes me a more gentle mother. Twelve drummers don’t have to shatter your eardrums or rouse troops into battle. They can create a soft beat or roll the signal you’re about to be surprised. Suspense is heightened. What’s going to happen, drummers, standing in your row?

As his new year as a new 5-year-old starts, I hold his hand. Let’s find out.

Archie, carried by Ryley

Saturday Siblings ~ Brother’s Keeper

Tommy and Ollie had just come down the slide when Ollie’s shoe popped off.