big kids

There comes a time in every mama's life when her children are no longer toddlers at her knees nor babes in her lap. They are moving, growing (sometimes smelly) kids. Getting-to-be-big-kids & then just big kids. You remember when you were the mom at the playground sucking in a breath every time a big kid played around your tiny tot. You would glance around, hoping & praying, that their parents were tracking on them so that a collision could be avoided. As they climbed up the slide & over the play equipment clearly too large & loud for what the playground was intended for. Now you realize you've become the parent with the "big kids" at the park. You are receiving the silent messages from mom's of littles that you once sent out. Bittersweet as it may be there is nothing to be done. Infants & toddlers grow into preschoolers who emerge into kids.

When you awake one day & find yourself here don't be alarmed. It happens. And I hear they get even bigger (and smellier.) As a mom of an eight-year-old boy I am still not sure what makes him tick. It seems like an ever-changing delicate balance of push & pull. He gives a little information & I try to get a little more without pulling too much. I learned recently of the boys & girls in his second grade class who have "girl friends" & "boy friends." I casually asked with my a pit in my stomach if he happened to have a "girl friend?" My relief was probably obvious at his quick dismissal of the idea. He's not ready for that he says. I then just as casually (read as just as crazily) let him know in as much of a non-lecturing voice as possible that there is absolutely no rush. That he has his entire life to have a "girl friend" and that for now how about he just stick to liking Lego's & mud-thank you very much. By that point he was itching to get away from his casual crazy mom so our conversation came to a close.

But it reminded me of the times I've been told to be interested in the little things they have to say. Whether you are hearing about the Lego castles they've built for the 345th time or listening as they exclaim in great detail about who their favorite Pokemon is & why. Things that quite honestly we could care less about & almost always, always, come as we are in a rush to fix dinner or have just sat down for a moment of peace & quiet to ourselves. Apparently the moms who've gone before us say that if you actually listen to these ramblings & prattle that when they grown into kids & then even bigger than kids they'll keep talking to you. The conversations will shift from their favorite Star Wars character to who they have a crush on. No longer will they be talking about how good that Bernstein Bears book is but they'll be figuring out with you what college courses they're interested in. As difficult as it may be during some of the more difficult conversations we have with them-some easier to keep our crazy in check then others-the point is we need to keep them talking. And if they aren't talking we need to figure out a way to get them talking. I don't think that just happens. I think we have to try to cultivate an atmosphere that lends itself to dialog. Whether that means as we work side-by-side or as we learn more about or get involved with an interest they may have, or even sitting through an insufferable episode of Phineas & Ferb (anyone?) then our hope can be that if they see we are interested then the sharing & connecting & trusting will continue on through the years as we figure out this being-a-big-kid thing together.

It was & then it wasn't

It's occurring to me that when you shout from the rooftops that your going to be adopting a girl from Ethiopia & then suddenly your not that you should probably: A. Have never shouted said news in the first place (always a problem for me) or B. Shout equally as loud when plans change.  Even if said plan change is heartbreaking, embarrassing or just plain confusing.  If we invite people into our lives to share the joy we should be willing to invite them in just as much for the mourning.  That I'm learning is easier said than done.  Good, joyful news rolls off my tongue with ease. But sudden painful news sometimes gets stuck.  The words don't form as easily.  My shouting is more of a hoarse whisper.  Anyone?

When my husband & I decided that postponing adoption until our two boys are older would be best for our family , after the initial raw grieving, I went into hiding mode.  Of course we told our families and those who'd offered to financially support our adoption, those who were already planning a fantastic fundraiser, those who had wanted to throw us showers & had given us items.  But, from the rest of the world I hid.  I deactivated my facebook account, I deleted any mention of Ethiopia from Instagram or this Blog (I'm putting my previous posts back on now because that is part of our story & just deleting a draft doesn't make it so.  Who knows how this will all weave together in the story of our family someday.)  I know it sounds so immature but I couldn't bear it.  Something we'd been talking about & praying about for eight years was finally happening.  The girl we imagined we'd be welcoming into our family was all I thought about.  We prayed for her, we talked about her, we planned for her even though we didn't yet have a name or a face she was here, you know?  A check had been written, documents had been signed.  This was happening. And then it wasn't.  The loss was almost unbearable at times.  The tears ran with a fluidity I didn't know possible.

The past few months have held a lot of healing.  There is still confusion as to why we'd be given this compelling, lasting feeling if for not such a time as this.  There is wonder if sometimes it's really just about being willing.  There is wonder if we let fear talk us out of what would have been an amazing opportunity to grow our family.  There is curiosity whether this is really postponed or whether it's not.

But the one thing I know is that in the last week alone three dear friends have asked me for updates on our adoption journey.  They didn't know.  Because I didn't say so.  Because I chose to stay silent rather than share the hurt and confusion that hit me with such ferocity I didn't see it coming & when it landed I didn't know what to do with it.I have sat at this computer numerous times to try & share our new news, but I had no words.  Even now my words seem insignificant, but I wanted to share where we were on our journey with dear friends near and far.  I wanted to thank you for praying for our family & for all the excitement you've shown for us.  Your support has meant the world to us & we apprecaite you sticking with us.

An open letter to a bike thief.

Dear Punk person who stole our bike,

What you may have seen as an invitation to us was just an open gate.  Maybe we left it open in a moment of forgetfulness or maybe it was just naive to think we had to close it to keep people off of our property.  I wonder what you were thinking as you strode or drove down our driveway.  Did you notice the apple trees had been pruned?  Did you see the chalk drawings on the cement?  Did you notice the kids bikes also & considering loading them up in the back of the trike?  Were you hoping the neighbors dogs wouldn't bark? Were you surprised when the motion light came on illuminating the carport where our trike was parked?  Did you stumble on to it or did you know it was there?  I wonder what has happened in your life that  you are out in the middle of the night sneaking around people's backyards & taking things that don't belong to you.

What you didn't see were the memories we had in that trike.  The time my  70-year-old mom tried to ride it but it looked like it would tip over each second she was on it.  You didn't get to hear the laughter than ensued from that.  Nor did you hear the glee that my kids had every time they rode in the back & we were going downhill.  You didn't' see my husband painstakingly measure out & cut the back seat/trunk to specific specifications. You didn't see the glee he had when it worked! Nor did you see him sand it and paint it so that our kiddos wouldn't get slivers.  You didn't see my kids get their picture taken by it when my husband rode it with them to Bike-to-school-day.  You didn't see the blanket in the back or the fun we had with it.   You didn't see the Christmas my husband's mom gave it to his dad. You didn't see my husbands dad give it to him.  Fortunately for us those memories are for keeps.

You also missed out on seeing the fear in my kiddos eyes when we said it had been stolen at night while we were sleeping.  You didn't get to hear the millions of questions they asked all coming back to "why would someone do that?"  You didn't hear the panic in their voices as they asked if  you were coming back for their bikes.  You didn't stick around to see my husband striding down the street looking for you.  You didn't see the frustration in his eyes as he's hard a hard couple of days & this didn't help.  Nor did you see me snicker as I realized it had gotten a flat the other day & given how heavy that trike was I am glad it wasn't an easy getaway for you.

What you may not know is that I'm rooting for you.  I am hoping you'll have a change of heart.  That you'll know you don't have anything to prove & that you won't be one of the 85% of bike thieves in our county that strips bikes down for parts or tries to sell them elsewhere.  I am hoping that you'll bring it back that when I glance out the window I'll see it parked happily back in it's spot.  It isn't so much about the bike at all, but about how I want to my kids to know that a bad decision doesn't make a bad person.  I want them to grow up knowing that poor decisions can be made right again.  Maybe I'm being naive again but if hope is seen as naive then so be it.  Regardless we will get over this make no mistake about that.  It was after all just a bike.   You on the other hand I'm not so sure.  This may have been a first time for you or maybe it is a series of times that now has landed you on a path to bigger things.  What I wanted you to know was that it's never too late to turn around.  To trace back your steps & begin again.  That's why I'm rooting for you.

Sincerely,
The person you stole from last night.

Girls just wanna have fun.

What did I do last night?  Oh you know.  The typical mom thing.  Met up with some girlfriends & under the cloak of darkness went to the new playground in our town.  Complete with headlamps & all.  We went to try the new zip-line out.  For ourselves.  With no kids.  As I prepared to leave the house with my headlamp & beach towel (because let's face it I am a mom & the seat might be wet so we'd need a way to dry it off) my kids were protesting in the whole unfairness of it all as they readied themselves for bed.  My oldest couldn't figure out for the life of him why I needed to go to the park at all much less at nighttime?  It dawned on me that the poor kid doesn't even know that moms like to have fun too.  He has been just as perplexed with my annual trip to the roller rink.  I love roller skating but for some reason I  just go on my birthday.  Like for some reason since I am having a celebration it is allowable to enjoy myself.  For some reason I think roller skating isn't permissible for me any other time.  Anyone?  Maybe it isn't roller-skating or zipping at a kids playground for you maybe it's crafting or skiing or horse back riding.  Whatever it is why do we limit ourselves? Why do we hold back as moms content to create fun experiences for our kiddos or our families but when it comes to ourselves we hold back?  We dismiss.  We put-off.  Or maybe it's just me & you all have it figured out & are out having a ton of fun. If so, call me!

This morning after my kids had awoken I said "Aren't you going to ask me if I had fun?"  And instead they said "Was anything broken?"  They were much more worried about whether or not my friends & I had left their playground intact (we did) than they were about me having fun.  And I don't really fault them on that as I think we can all agree young kiddos do have a hard time seeing past themselves & they aren't used to seeing me have fun.  They are used to me running errands, taking care of things, going on walks, and reading & doing a few exercise videos here & there.  They don't see a lot of mom having fun just to have fun.  Sure I have foot races with them in the yard.  I roll down the grassy hills with them.  We have a ton of fun together...& I am not trying to take anything away from that or lessen it in anyways.  I am just saying maybe it's time to give ourselves permission as moms to have a little more fun?  Just because.  Because it's a good thing to model. Because it helps make you feel a little more alive.  Because fun can be thrilling & it can help us to dream & remember what we like to do apart from lovingly care for our families. It helps us to see ourselves more as an individual rather than just are role as mom . It helps our kids see that we are more than just a mom.  Being a mom is a big part of who we are & what we do.  But, isn't it okay for their to be a bit more?  Isn't it okay to take a few trips around the rink feeling the wind fly through our hair & enjoying the music just because?  Isn't it okay to holler in the night on the zip-line with your friends cheering because another friend went super fast?  I think it's more than okay.  I think it would help us to take ourselves less seriously.  And when I refer to "fun" I dont' mean take up a new insanely expensive hobby that requires certain clothing or equipment.  I mean lay on your back & notice the cloud shapes.  I mean go discover a new trail with your girlfriends.  Whatever it may be chances are that when you were a kiddo yourself you found it really fun.  Hula-hooping, bike rides, swimming, twirling in circles outside, we can still do these things.  (And I hear you friend who is sighing or rolling your eyes as you read this because the stage you are in with your baby or your toddler really doesn't allow for time away or time to yourself much less even going to the bathroom alone, but hear me when I say this is not forever.  There is a time just around the bend that although it may be hard to see it is coming & you will have free time again.  I promise.  Hang in there.)  For the rest of us there is  room in our full & busy lives to add them in.  They won't take away from anything & they might just make us better moms.

I'd love to hear what you do for fun or if you aren't doing it yet what would you like to do?

What's Next

It took me by surprise.  I didn't even see it coming.  I was clicking away eager to be done with the insurance inquires & to enjoy my quiet since my four-year-old was napping for the first time in years.  (It was sacred time if you know what I mean).  As I clicked once more I only saw the "Congratulations & welcome to the Ethiopia program". I paid no attention the the 10+ attachments or the long letter that followed. I simply saw that & I sobbed.  Like instant puffy face sob.  On the floor but trying to be muffled since said four-year-old was napping kind of sob.  I didn't have anyone to share it with.  I was able to savor it.  To soak it in.  To exclaim.  To wonder.  To Praise.  I actually said "Shut-up!" to the computer before I fell to the floor in a puddle.  I really didn't' believe they would accept us.  Whether was an act of self-preservation for my heart or I just really believed that I was utterly taken aback by their decision to allow us to move forward.

Once I collected myself & called my husband I was able to look through the attachments & the letter.  The forms to come, the fees to pay, oh my. I still don't know how it will all get accomplished.  I still don't know how it will all work out.  I still don't know if she'll love us right away or not.  I wonder about her favorite color. I wonder about her parents, siblings, aunts & uncles.  I wonder if she'll be so mad that we took her away from her country & her sights & sounds & smells that were familiar to her.  I wonder if she always be sad & miss those she's lost or who lost her.  I wonder where I'll take her to get her hair done & if she'll mind that I'm not very girly.  Basically I'm all over the place.  These are things I've wondered for a bit but haven't allowed my heart to go there.  I am free now to hope a little & plan a bit.

I try to explain to my boys that this could take a while.  A long while.  I fret that maybe they don't' understand what we are about to embark on.  Then I have to wonder, do I?  I have to remind myself of course I don't!  We've never done this before.  Sure we started & stopped many times but to actually be at this point is a first for us.

So what comes next?  Lot of paperwork.  Like lots.  We are in what the agency refers to as the "paper-chase" phase.  That leaves little to the imagination.  Then the home study.  Which I can't even go there yet or I'll get worked up in a tizzy.  Right now it's just best if I only do the next thing as I was already thinking of how we needed to make sure no light bulbs were burnt out because obviously that is a sign of a neglectful parent, am I right?  Oh my poor husband.  What he is going to go through as that approaches.  His honey-do list will have a list.  We would love to have you along with us on this journey.  I may over-share (fair warning) but your questions are welcome & your encouragement & prayers are crucial.  So I am off to buy a ream of printer paper (& some light bulbs) , settle in with my signing pen & do the next thing.

Hopeful.

It was a night I just needed a word.  Like a thirsty person in search of a well.  Anyone?  All day my head & heart had been a flutter.  Flutter may be too sweet of a word.  Maybe more like being hit over & over with a battering ram.  We've been in the process of deciding whether after talking about it on & off since 2007 if we are finally ready to proceed with adoption. Obviously we're a little slow.  Too many years of fears & feelings of inadequacy have side-tracked us making it easy for us to talk ourselves out of this amazing possibility.  We now know that you don't have to be any sort of super-hero, green lantern or otherwise, to adopt.  Nor do you have to be made of money although that would make the fundraising a whole lot more doable. You just have to be willing.  Willing to jack up your so called "comfortable" life.  Willing to see what loving others really means for you.  Willing to take a leap.  To lean in & trust.  We just don't want to talk ourselves out of it this time.

So back to the thirst.  I was just up to here with not knowing if we were doing the right thing.  Would it be financially responsible?  Would I really be okay if adding another kiddo meant no vacation ever?  Would I be okay with consignment store threads & goodwill finds?   Even though we'd already submitted our preliminary application to the agency.  Even though we were poised & ready for the next step.  To apply for the Ethiopian program.  Hoping they would welcome us in with open arms.  Even though I was still going back & forth & second guessing & wondering & figuring the figures.  Thoughts again creeping in of "Who do we think we are?  Why us?"  were just enough for me to wish we had a bottle of wine in the house or at least wish my husband wasn't working nights  so that he could be here to wrangle our two sons because I'd.had.it.  But there was no wine & no husband so alas my fellas & I sat down to read their bedtime story out of the Jesus Storybook Bible.  Best kid's Bible of all time.  I have learned so much from this sweet book which constantly brings it back to Jesus page after page.  I whispered in the quiet of my soul, "Lord, Please"  My son chose the story of Jesus feeding the 5.000.


  "But they were wrong.  Jesus knew it didn't matter how much the little boy had.  God would make it enough, more than enough." 

"And Jesus knew the One who in the very beginning had made everything out of nothing at all.  How hard would something like this be for Someone like that?"

Really?  Really?

Do you not love the times when you know?  You just know that you know that it was meant for you.  It puts it all in perspective.  Who am I to fuss over whether or not this is a sound financial decision or not?  Will I just trust?  What is another kiddo to feed to Someone like that?  Sound naive?  Maybe.  To me it sounds like trusting & believing & trusting & believing some more until our daughter comes home.

So here we go.  We are going to be submitting our application to the Ethiopia program & hoping it is accepted.  We'd love your prayers.  We'd also love your kindness if we forget to show up somewhere or if we double book ourselves (sorry friends) or if you run into us & we are all wild-eyed from being up to our eyeballs in paperwork & my hair hasn't been properly de-frizzed.  If your one of our friends who's gone before us on this adoption journey we'd love to hear from you.  You advice & your what I'd wish I'd known when...  But most of all we just want to thank the Lord for this opportunity to build our family a little bigger in this unique & special way.  We are beyond humbled & we are hopeful.  So let the journey begin.

I am a good mom. And so are you.

Are their any other mama's who are just weary?  Weary of believing the lie that we are failing at this motherhood thing?  Believing that we are a bad mom?  Just because our every-day-real-life doesn't live up to the pinterest worthy lives we think we should be living?  Or maybe it's because your kiddo isn't in enough extracurricular activities or you yell too much or get frustrated too easily or don't care that their homework is late or you let your baby cry it out or they never cry it out.  You wear them or you don't. Too much screen time. Not enough play-on-the-floor-with-them-time. You co-sleep or you don't even know what co-sleeping is.   Whatever it may be we might laugh & shrug it off  yet we buy into it.  We whisper to ourselves in the quiet of our hearts"I am a bad mom."  We laugh with our girlfriends "I am such a bad mom!" Yet somewhere along the line we started believing it.  We started holding ourselves as a mama up to a mirror that someone else held & no longer was it enough that we were given these kiddos to do something no one else could do for them.  No longer did it matter that they were our hearts walking outside of our bodies.  No longer did it matter that we were trying our best.  What mattered & what reverberated around our heads & our hearts were that we were  failing.

The other night as I was making a birthday cake for my son & I use the term cake loosely for what constitutes as a birthday cake at my house is a pan of chocolate chip cookie bars topped with frosting.  Pin that.  No crumbs & no weird soggy leftovers. Even though my kiddos love it & even though I love it for the lack of pressure & the presence of ease I felt inadequate.  Making the cake at 9 pm was the last thing I wanted to be doing anyways.   (Parenthood was going to be on later so as you can see I didn't even have a choice about going to bed early.)  It suddenly occurred to me as I was memorized by the blenders going round & round that my "cake" as ordinary as it was did in fact not make me a bad mom.   I don't have the gift for making elaborate character themed cakes.  Does that make me a bad mom?  Nope.  Not even a little bit.  Pretty sure no kid ever looked back over their childhood thinking that only if their mom had made them a millennium falcon cake for their 7th birthday than then everything would have been better.  Actually I realized that I'm not even a bad mom when I use my outside voice or my kids don't make their beds.  What is a bad mom anyways?  And if you were a bad mom would you even care?

How dare we cheapen this experience as being a mom with feeling lousy & thinking we aren't doing a good enough job.  How dare we belittle ourselves by thinking that other people would do it better.  How dare we lessen ourselves even a moment longer by thinking that by not doing insignificant things perfectly that it is somehow reflected in the kind of mom we are or the kind of children we raise.  Isn't that when we beat ourselves up the most...in the insignificant?  Being tardy to school.  Birthday parties.  Acting out in public (not us our kiddos) whether or not the excel at a sport.

What if we stopped talking to ourselves in such a way?  What if we said aloud " I am a good mom!" in order to replace those lies with some truth?  Simple, right?  What if we whispered it to the inmost part of who we are?   If we said it over & over would we begin to believe it?  Would we be able to reach out more & encourage each other more if what we saw in ourselves we recognized in others? Wouldn't that be something?  Would we be able to laugh at our messes?  To realize that the messy kitchen is actually something that no one else on the planet cares about?  And if they do then that's their issue not ours,  What if we just gave ourselves the grace we so desperately want to be able to extend to others?  Would we stop trying to create an experience for our kiddos & instead live the life before us?  These kids we have are not commonplace.  How much time have we wasted focusing on what's gone wrong instead of rejoicing on what's gone right?  Anyone?  May not change the world but it just might change our lives & the lives of those who call us mom.

intentional?

What are we the 6th day of the new year & already my "word" of the year is showing me up.  I decided a few years ago I was done setting myself up for failure so I would no longer do New Year's Resolutions.  They were so 90's to me.  I love hearing about other people's resolutions & rooting for them but as far as resolutions & I went we were just done.  Enter in a "word" of the year.  This seemed doable & there was less pressure & less disappointment if that one word didn't seep into every aspect of the new year.

It's gone fairly well the past few years.  Words have come & gone & admittedly I have even forgotten some years what my word was halfway through.  Other years I have been on top of it & kept a journal highlighting how the word was challenging me.  This year I chose the word "intentional."  I wanted to do everything with a purpose.  To not do more...to actually do less but that what I do to do with great intention.  I had hopes it would infiltrate many aspects of my life from my walk with God, to spending time playing with my kids & exercise.   Alas here we are on day 6 & yesterday I was too busy to eating an entire bag of Juanita's Tortilla chips to play with my four-year-old (but seriously have you tried those?!)  The other day I had a giveaway for a side business we have. Sounds awesome right?  Unless you consider the item that was up for giveaway we no longer had.  Who does this?  It had sold in June for goodness sakes.  Earlier today I asked people to follow my blog without ever having a "follow" option set-up.  Again, who does this?  I also poured the entire bag of triops into the tank instead of 1/2 like the directions clearly state & my eldest reminded me of just before I poured the entire bag in.  What are triops you say?  They are 200 million-year-old shrimp that eat each other & we get to watch.  My boys think it is the best Christmas present ever so thank you, cousins!

Aargh!  How difficult can it be to be intentional sometimes?  I think of how easily I can get frustrated with my kiddos by their lack of anything with intent & who am I to do that?  I clearly am not leading by example as I flit from one thing to the next.  Never really settling until one thing is finished.  I sometimes unload only part of the dishwasher at once.  I come back to do the rest later.  For real-life.  (a saying my 4-year-old has taught me by the way.)  I get laundry out.  It comes to rest in the basket in the living room or kitchen.  Sometime later I pass by it again & fold it.  Sometime later I will take it to the appropriate room.  At yet another time I will put said laundry away, maybe.  Is this just the life of a mom or that of a crazy person?!  How much more efficient & effortless life must be with a little intentionality sprinkled in there.  

The thing is maybe I will never do the laundry all in one sitting.  Maybe I will continue to do the dishes in multiple steps just so I can show the dishwasher it isn't the boss of me.  Is that the worse thing that can happen?  Certainly not, but would it be so bad to try something different?  To see if it frees up some more time for doing things I can get joy out of or to just spend with my people?  What if these people who do certain chores each day of the week & have charts & checklists what if they really have it going on?  What if in their being so intentional about what has to get done they are unlocking a sort of freedom that I'm not even aware is out there?  That is what is so great about new starts like having a "word" for the year.  Even though it's showing me I have a lot to learn on only the sixth day in it is also saying I have 358 more days to try again.  

Do you have a "word" for the year?  What's 2015 saying to you?

really?

The other day I said to my eldest, "Come on you & I are going for a walk."  You would have thought I had just suggested he maim himself in some way by the dramatic reaction he had.  Falling to the ground saying " A walk?!  A walk is the worst thing ever!"  Really?  Really?  If a walk is the worst thing my son had to deal with on that gorgeous December day then I'd say his life is pretty fantastic.

Fast forward to an hour later upon our return from said walk when he admits that it was actually pretty great.  Ha!  I thought with great satisfaction. You see!  If only you'd not be such a punk when something is put before you.  You know it typically is good for you & has your best interests at heart  So there.  Oh.  Crap.  Maybe it's just me but I am pretty sure I throw a mean fit to whenever Something catches me off guard or is out of my comfort zone. I may not be weeping & wailing (at least as far as you can tell) but I can stomp my foot with the best of them.

Isn't that the way we are?  We hear that still, small voice.  It asks us to initiate something with someone or to put ourselves out there.  But, we don't want to so we throw a tantrum in our own way by being busy or ignoring it until it is harder & harder to hear.  We throw ourselves into other projects or relationships without a backward glance.  We may be missing out on the very thing that is for our good & has our best interests at heart but not even know it.   Unless you all are much more mature then me & it's just me who does this.

Sometimes Most times what I hear myself say to my kids as I am parenting them is something that I myself need to hear.  Be Kind (as I say through gritted teeth)  Don't yell ( as I shout it down the hallway)  Be sure to share (as I check my creamer situation out carefully wondering if my husband "snuck" some.)

Encouraging my kids to be open to situations & what you can learn from them is no different.  That is something I need to be reminded of even as a middle-aged woman.  Yes, middle-age there is no sense in denying it any longer.  Baah!  Being middle-age is awesome!  There is so much freedom in it.  You wan't to wear your walking shoes with your jeans?  Do it!  Your feet will thank you.  You think to yourself, but that's a mom thing.  Newsflash you.are.a.mom.  No shame.   Same goes for mom jeans & mom cuts.  Which I don't  even know what a mom cut looks like or if that's even a real thing, but I recently heard a hair-dresser laugh saying no one had ever asked for a "mom cut" from her before.  Dude.  If you are a lady & you have kids & you have hair you have a mom-cut.  No way around it.

All that to say the next time my kiddo has an all-out-fit about something new or different I think I have to wonder if that is something he is learning from me.  Does he sense my foot being stomped every time there is something new afoot?  Does he notice that I drag my feet when a new opportunity is put before me?  Maybe.  Or maybe kids just come this way.  Either way it will do us all a lot of good to slow our responses & be encouraged that it may just turn out to be pretty great after-all.

wouldn't that be something.

I've spent the morning delivering Christmas presents to people I don't know.  I've peeked past a barely opened door into a dark & smelly apartment.  I've stood just beyond the produce section at Fred Meyer crying & hugging a young mom.  When  you are put in a position to really see people it can be a sobering thing; read as I have been sobbing all morning (which isn't helped by the fact that I'm hangry because I'm trying to be better about portions & snacking which basically just means I'm starving all-the-live-long-day but that's really besides the point.)  I realize how insignificant it is to get frustrated in the drop-off line at school just because the parent ignores the rules & gets out of their car to hug their kiddo one last time before they go  off to school.  When have I ever done that? Taken the time to give one last hug even at the cost of upsetting 100 other drivers behind them just because my kiddo may need it?  I am more of the slow & roll kind of mom.  Making sure my kiddo unbuckles & is ready to jump out the moment of approach.  The thing is I don't know the story of the mom who is getting out to give her kid a hug.  I've no idea what transpired at their house that morning anymore than I know why the mom in the dark apartment with downcast eyes is so sad.  It is so easy to talk the talk about everyone having a story, but to truly live like you believe that in every single interaction you have is another thing all-together.  What if?  What if we truly lived it?  What if our kids grew up knowing no different?  What if they knew you gave everyone you came into contact with grace because that's just how it's done?  What if they knew you just looked for a common thread with people because that is how connections are made. Sound a bit out of your comfort zone?  Mine too. But what if there's a chance that if we slow down & see those around us we may be surprised to learn they aren't so different than us after all? Wouldn't that be something.

Christmas time is here again.

Christmas time is here again & for some that can mean life gets a whole lot harder.  We know, because the past few years has been trying for my husband & I.   We had started to dread that sure-to-come question "So, are you guys all ready for Christmas?"  While I know it always came from well-meaning people who were full of anticipation for the season it fell upon our ears as another reminder that we weren't going to be able to provide gifts for our kids.  Having been in lean financial times( for what seems like forever) Christmas gifts just weren't a reality for us.  We were more concerned about keeping the lights on & the heat going. When our kids were really young we didn't give it much thought.  We knew kids that age were more into empty boxes than the actual item inside so we just considered ourselves minimalists (read as that made us feel better) & chose to focus more on what the season meant & less on the stuff.

Fast forward to when they were a bit older & thanks to some truly AMAZING people.  Two different years two different groups of AMAZING there were gifts under the tree for our kiddos.  We were surrounded by such kind & generous & loving communities that loved on us & our kiddos & turned what could have been a really hard time into a time of joy & thanksgiving!  It was never about the stuff or the lack of stuff.  It was about the joy & anticipation & excitement that any parent wants to be able to provide for their kiddo.

This year marks the first year we are able to buy presents for our kiddos.  And we are excited! Unless you've never been able to you may not grasp the excitement but let me tell you it's on like donkey-kong! As we started thinking about Christmas & our kids & bringing them a bit of joy we naturally thought & talked about the prior years & how we were so loved on.  It got us to thinking how much more difficult this time of year must be for people who don't have a supportive community around them.  Maybe they don't have anyone to admit through a tear-stained face how hard it is.  Maybe they don't have anyone to let in & share how alls they really want is a matching pair of Christmas pjs for their kiddos.  Maybe they can't get over the pride of how hard it is to tell someone it's hard.  You live & breath it the last thing you want to do is to hear yourself talk about it. We knew we wanted to be able to do a bit for one other family, but realistically we also knew we couldn't do much more than that but maybe, just maybe, their were families like ours who wanted to do something for other families.  So with these families in mind....The ones who are working, but it's never enough.  The ones who are working & in school & raising their babies on their own.  The ones who lost jobs & are new in town & just don't have anyone.  With them in mind we launched our 1st Gift for Kids Program.  And as per usual I dived right in.  Spread the word with out really thinking it through & without having lined up people to help provide gifts to be sponsors or donors or what have you.  So then I panicked & thought this will never work & asked my friend (who knows how I dive in without thinking all.the.time.) to please pray because I had names of kids coming in who needed to be  matched with donors & whatifnoonecameforward I didn't want to ruin anyone's Christmas & I should have just kept my mouth shut & who do I think I am to help anybody anyways?! Sheesh.  She prayed. I prayed. Names came in & people wrote it saying they wanted to help & how could they help & could they please help.  Seriously.  It was beyond me.  The entire thing came together so effortlessly I didn't need to do a thing except show up to turn the computer on.  I remember telling my husband shortly before launching the Gift for Kids program that I would be stoked if at least one family was matched with another.  You know what?  Enough families came forward wanting to bless & were matched with 21 kids who's families are struggling & who admitted it's hard.  A.ma.zing. Some of the names came from the moms themselves & they brokenly shared a bit of their stories with me.  Some of the names came from other people who nominated them (for lack of a better word) because they knew it was hard.

 Now the gifts are starting to trickle in.  I keep thinking how excited I am to have my kids apart of delivering all these gifts to the families who are trying so hard.  So that it would be a good reminder to them to be thankful & to think of others.  But...Let's be real the reminder is for me.  It's so easy to get amnesia about letting people in, about finding joy through being thankful & about thinking of how to love on others. The thing I didn't know when we were on the receiving end was that not only did my family feel the love but those who acted out on the tug of their hearts they got to feel it too. Thankful for these brave families who by letting people in a bit are in turn making all of our Christmas seasons that much brighter.

Old yeller

We had one of those mornings up in here.  You know the ones where you make at least one of your kiddos cry, you cry, & then your late to school.  And being late to school is a real feat for us as we literally live just down the street.

Some mornings are just like that.  Your kid says they aren't having fun & why are you being so mean to them.  That makes you even more frustrated because all you did was nag them for the 40th time about getting dressed even though they have a chart and the whole point of the chart is to.not.have.to.nag.  Yet some days the chart doesn't cut it.  Your kiddo should be able to get dressed in a timely matter since this is what you do five-days-a-week.  Over & Over.  Yet some days it's like they've never even been in this situation before.  Get dressed?  What is this you speak of?  School?  Hmm...not sure what you're talking about.  For.The.Love.  It is enough to make this mama go cuckoo.  Or go out of recovery & let a yell out.

I have been on a journey to not yell as much at my kiddos for what seems like forever.  I know that can't be because typically you don't have much reason to yell at a newborn. Could you imagine?  "Stop sleeping so much!"  "WHY ARE YOU SO ADORABLE?!"  No the yelling for me came a bit later.  Once they began to reason & be defiant & be you know  thinking for themselves. That is when I lost it.  That is when I became a crazed mama who could loose it at the drop of a hat.  Or lego or army man.  Whatever.  I would loose it quick.  I would feel them not complying with me & feel the rage start creeping up. There wasn't typically anytime (or so it felt) to squelch it before it came spewing  out in a loud & angry volcanic rush.

I've prayed, I've cried, I've put my head in a freezer.  Because really who wants to be a yeller?  Especially at their kiddos who they love & longed for. Pretty sure not one mama ever played with her dollies thinking how she couldn't wait to grow up & have kids of her own so she could yell at them.  Yet it happens.  All the time.  Maybe not to all of us (lucky) but to a lot of us.  We try & yell in pillows, or count to 10, or walk away, or breath deeply. We lock ourselves in garages & bathrooms & closets.  Yet still we yell.  It isn't something we can will away.  It isn't something we can quick-fix.  We can call it our "outside voice" & yet a yell is a yell.  It isn't pretty & it is totally humbling.  It often ends in an ugly cry.

So even though this morning was a re-lapse into yelling for me I am not going to let that define me or even my day.  Even though my kiddo said through a tear streaked face " I thought you weren't going to yell anymore" I am done calling myself a yeller.  Being a yeller isn't who I am it is something I do. (Maybe. Sometimes.Not as often as i used to.)  Not every day here is going to be one the Walton's would be proud of nor is it going to be totally terrible.  We are aiming for mostly good.  And on the not-so-good days where it is glaringly obvious that mom messed up those are the days I squat down look at the tear stained face & ask for forgiveness.  Those are the days I admit to being a human & show my kids that when we mess up we own it and we ask for forgiveness & we try again.  We talked about just how he is learning to always be truthful I am leaning how to use my "inside voice."  I don't think its the worst thing for them to get a glimpse of our fragility & our struggles.  I think maybe, just maybe, it may take the pressure off of them a bit.  At least that is what I am hoping they glean from all of this.  Wouldn't it be a great thing for our kiddos to grow up & go into the world knowing how to extend grace & seek forgiveness from the people around them? To know that messing up isn't the same thing as failing-it's falling.  To know that when you fall you can always get back up.  You may not be able to do it on your own.  You may need a hand.  But you can get back up & try again.

To fear or not?

As a mama who has two little ones, which means my heart lives outside of my body, there is so much to fear.  The world is full of Ebola, school shootings, kids being snatched.  As a parent it is difficult to live a day without having something that could cause fear to well up inside of you. Then there are the everyday kind of fears like will your kid fall off the monkey bars?  Not doing the monkey bars mind  you but literally fall off the top of the monkey bars?  Since your lil' monkey has decided he must climb & conquer the tallest point of the playground.  Will another kiddo do or say something that will make your kiddo cry or feel bad about themselves?  You fear that until it happens & then your mama-bear instinct kicks in & you hope the perpetrator other child starts to feel the fear (maybe it's just me.)  In this day & age when there is so much reported how are we to respond if moving your family to the Alaskan wild where your biggest concern is where you should relocate your outhouse next spring isn't a possibility?  When actually making your kids live in a real bubble is frowned upon?  How to insulate them from all the negative & how to do so without your own fear being a burden upon their childhood?  How to protect them & allow them to still have some freedom & adventure?  Honestly, sanitizing cart wipes are a necessary evil & I use them every time, but how limiting is it when we can't even walk freely into a grocery store without first stopping & preparing before moving forward.  Not much of an adventure there.  Do kids even get to ride under the cart anymore?  I know I have gotten a look or two when I even just allow my kids to ride holding on to the side of the cart.  Because, you know, they could fall off & be squished.  For the love.

This whole fearful living thing doesn't come naturally to me.  Growing up & in my young adult life I was kind of void of fear.  Spontaneity beckoned me & I typically answered without much thought or concern of what could or couldn't happen.  I hitchhiked, I went on solo trips across country (all with out a cell phone.)  I threw myself off of cliffs into the water below just for the thrill of it.  Now I get nervous & clammy driving over high bridges or when my kids get to close to the edge of a ledge over looking the water below.  Even though said ledge towers above them & there is literally no foreseeable way they could fall in.  Still clammy.  Still sometimes hold onto the hood of my youngest least a sea creature from down below leaps up & decides he'd make a tasty treat.  Okay maybe not that last one so much but you can see how easily it is to ride the train of "what-if's" (no ticket required.) And these are just for the run-of-the-mill fears.  Not the life threatening "what-ifs" about contracting a life-threatening disease or coming into a life-threatening danger just eating lunch in the school cafeteria. It really does make the kid-in-a-bubble thing sound not so bad.

My husband & I constantly go back & forth over whether the times we grew up in (the 70's if you must know) were actually safer than now or whether it's just that we instantly hear all of the bad news right when it happens now.  The statistics would show that things are actually "safer" now but even if that's true it certainty doesn't feel like it.  As a young kiddo myself I would ride my bike miles to the store to get some candy unattended & out of sight.  Fast forward to know & I have no idea when I will be comfortable enough for my sons to ride a bike unattended & out of sight (never.)  The very idea of it sounds preposterous because I know all the possible outcomes of what could go down & yet I'm also supposed to raise them so they will have confidence & be capable to go out into the world on their own.  Speaking to a woman the other day she was telling me how her child starting riding the public bus system all around town by herself by the time she was 10.  She said she didn't want to raise a "tea-cup" child.  Someone who goes off to college or out on their own & breaks because they don't know how to care for themselves.  You guys.  This is a thing.  Teacup parenting.  I thought we only have to be concerned if we were a helicopter or free-range parent but now we can be raising tea-cups that may break too.  For reals. It's too much.

It's all too much.  There is too much to fear & there is too much that could go wrong.  But if we let fear win then we are going to miss out on too much joy. Too much love. Too much spontaneity & too much good. Life is hard enough as it is that we don't need to be saddled down by any additional weight of worry. What is a mama to do other then to spend time on her knees & trust the One who gave her these two who cause her heart to live outside of her body.  Living each day one day at a time.  Not looking too far ahead but rather just soaking up the moment and the gift that it is.  Easier said than done?  Yep.  A little too naive?  Maybe.  But I don't want fear to get an inch more than it deserves.  It has it's place & it is a good emotion to have when say you run into a grizzly bear (say should you relocate to Alaska.)  But day in & day out I want my emotions  to know that I'm in charge.  They can just take a seat & stop running around on me all nilly-willy or is it willy-nilly?  That kid who climbs atop the highest point of the playground?  That is incredibly brave.  These ones we are raising up are going to need all the braveness they can muster.  And maybe it's just me but as far as I can tell they take a lot of their ques from us.  They look to us before they have a reaction.  They cry harder if we gasp when they fall.  They look more triumphant after seeing our smile.  They need to know that we think they got this.   They also need to know that we've got this.  That we will keep showing up.  That we will cry out for the courage & braveness & peace  & love needed to keep the fear it it's place.

not scary at all.

As I sit here on Day 1 of summer vacation I have a trillion of thoughts swirling through my head : thoughts about summer activities we should or shouldn't do, lazy days, wondering why it isn't sunny out today, will the weather be nicer for our swimming lessons in the outdoor pool, how many times is reasonably okay to eat smores in a few months time, how I am so glad both of my kiddos are here together, how I hope I feel that way all summer long, how I am ecstatic that there were no alarms going off this morning, how it feels awesome & lazy at the same time to still be in pj's at 9:52 a.m., how it is kind of strange that we haven't yet ventured outside, but also I am glad we haven't walked down the road & back to school, so on & so forth.  I hope to be able to block some of these random thoughts out and reflect back on the past year.  On the first year of public school & having my eldest away at kindergarten.  Back in August of last year I was feeling a flood of  emotions & really had no idea of what to expect sending my son forth out in the world ( literally only 2 blocks away) so I am talking about more of a under influence of others leaving his safe bubble sort-of-a-way.

I have learned that there are a ton of germs swirling around the school (shocker!)  If there was anything we could get we did get.  Flu-check twice survived the puking-off-the-top-bunk in the middle of the night episode.  Colds-check more than I could count one even won us a trip to the x-ray room to see if it had developed into pneumonia.  Pink eye-check.  Two cases, Well one, but in each eye so I am counting that as two because it was just as gross in each peeper.   The only thing we didn't get a chance to enjoy was lice.  Not that we didn't get an opportunity to have it's presence around us we just didn't personally have it as an unwelcome guest in our home.  Super thankful for that as I was a wee bit paranoid (read totally obsessed with any preventative measure I could get my hands on) Tea-tree shampoo, tea tree oil (applied generously to the scalp, coats & back packs on a semi-regular basis) coats thrust into the dryer on the highest heat possible immediately after entering the house after school.  And the creme de la creme of paranoia was the spray my dear friend gave me called "Lice knowing you" Love that stuff smells good & makes me feel like a real lice warrior.  This would liberally spray hoods, coats, & backpacks on a regular basis.  And no I didn't read the ingredients don't even want to know.  Point is I think it works.  So I have a pretty good system down & am guessing it will need to be repeated for only the next 11 years or so.  Then the kid is on his own.

I learned that my sometimes shy kiddo doesn't need me around to facilitate conversation.  He was constantly coming home to tell me that he played with so & so or he talked to so & so about this & that.  These were kiddos not even in the same class!  How in the world did the kid who used to & sometimes still does hide behind my legs & turn a shade of pink when spoken to how did that kid become mister social at recess time?!  How I wish I could have been a fly on the err... soccer ball or monkey bars for those initial introductions.  " Hi."  "Hi."  "Wanna play super-hero ninja warriors?"  "You're it!"  Boom.  Instant friends until the next recess.

I am thankful for the new experiences he has had, the amazing (2!) teachers he was fortunate to have been placed with, the new friendships ,that I know as I am still friends with a dear one I went to kindergarten with, may last a lifetime, the conflicts he had & the choices he learned to to make to help come up with a solution for those, the appreciation he found for his little brother whom he missed being around each day, his feelings that were hurt so that he knows what it is like to be on the receiving end when a big first grader is making fun of your soccer skills (or lack of let's just have a moment of honesty here.  But, the kid can THROW a baseball.  Isn't it kind of a disservice to our kids to make them think they are awesome at everything?  Maybe?  Still trying to figure out how to finesse that whole thing. ) so that next fall when he is the big first grader he will hopefully recall that & extend a little more kindness to the kindergartner who is being brave out on the field, the books he was exposed to, the writing he acquired, the different languages he heard, the different shades of skin he sat by, the music he sang & danced to & the thirst for knowledge that continues to grow.

All in all it was a pretty great year.  Not nearly as scary as I thought it would be.  Isn't that the way though often the things that are unknown to us seem so scary, but once we step out & see what we are dealing with it isn't scary at all.  We often even end up enjoying it & always seem to learn something from it.  Now the trick will be to remember that when my youngest starts pre-school in the fall thus beginning a new season of time.by.myself. which is something that sounds thrilling & scary unknown to me all over again.

being a mama

Never have I been more humbled than on this journey of parenthood.  Whether it is walking out of a restaurant with your kiddos poopie undies in the pocket of your hoodie (yep did that the other day) or coming face-to-face with some less than desirable personality traits reflected back at you it is a non-stop-always-and-forever-learning process.  You revisit things time & time again. You forgive & are forgiven.  You cry out & are constantly cried at.  Most nights you can't wait for bedtime & then other nights you go in their rooms after they are asleep because you miss them & want to watch them sleep.  You basically feel like a crazy person all of time because you can't remember anything & you are being pulled at talked at all day long.  You clap with excitement over lego creations & then curse later as you step on them.  You long for a night out with girlfriends & then spend the time talking about your little ones. You can't wait for free time & then when you get it you don't know what to do with your bad self.  It is all this & more.  It is nothing at all like I thought it would be.  It is terrific & sometimes terrifying.

It is real, messy, sometimes so beautiful & in-your-face you can't stand it, it makes your blood boil, and you love with both a fierceness & gentleness you didn't know existed.  You want to protect them & allow them to make mistakes all in the same day.  That and track on their sugar intake.  How is this possible?  How is it possible to train, parent, guard, love, cherish, discipline & enjoy all day long? Sometimes I just need to take a moment & reflect on the magnitude of being a mama. It is so much more than making sure we have milk & super-hero band aids. It is more than making sure the blankies are clean & the bedtime routine isn't forgotten.  It is more than platitudes & greeting cards could ever capture.  Moment by moment.  Day by day.  Step by step.  Then we wake up & start again.  Full on joy & mess coming at us the moment we arise.  It is more than words can say.  It is a feeling all to it's own.  It is being a mama.

Feeling like a fraud.

Maybe it's just me, but have you ever felt like a total fraud?  And then once you become aware that you've been a living life as a fraud you can't fake it anymore.  The blinders have been removed & no longer can you be oblivious or ignore the fact.  That is how I started to feel a few months ago when I considered how I "loved" others.  Sure I loved my family & friends.  Those were the easy people to love, but how did I do with the less-desirable peeps?  The ones you see on the corners?  The ones you hear about going to cold-weather shelters on a winter's night because you know THEY. LIVE. OUTSIDE.  The people who look a little different, smell a little different, make a little less,
sound a little differnt & have made some differnt choices than me.  I started to wonder if how Jesus talked in the Bible about loving others, taking care of others, feeding & clothing those who didn't have it & how everyone was made in the image of God (therefor deserving of the dignity & respect I showed my loved ones) what if all those weren't just feel-good words to take into consideration?  What if we were actually supposed to take them ,like,  literally?  What if we were supposed to live like we believed them?  Would I then need to become a radical & sell all I own & move to another country? Would we need to start a mobile soup kitchen out of the back of our minivan? How would that even work?  Do people at T-ball games even need soup? Seriously what would people think?  Would they think we've let a whole lot of crazy out or would they recognize the desire on their own hearts to do something?

Our family started to think that maybe for us it meant a little more than just sending a monthly check to World Vision for our sponserd girl in Myanmar.  Maybe it also meant we sashay a little into some uncomfortable situations so that others might benefit or at least so we could try to figure out what it meant for us to love others.  Maybe it meant we give our sleeping bags away so that on that very night someone may be a little warmer regardless of what we would do come summer time & our annual camping trip.  Maybe it meant that instead of getting upset with our boys & fretting about their sense of entitlement when it came to goldfish crackers or fruit strips at snack time that we take a pizza to some homeless people so that our kiddos might gain a bit of a different perspective.

Being a mom of two young boys I know a bit about imperfections.  How the ever present crumbs on the table & the floor can be enough to drive you cuckoo-bananas or it could be just enough to remind you that life is being lived right in front of you.  So can the needs you see & hear about in your community.  They can appear so huge that you are immobilized into doing nothing just frozen by their sheer greatness.  Or you can choose to see each one bit by bit as a tangible need you & others can meet.  The homeless drop-in center for teens wants board games?  Great, haven't ever played that cribbage game stuck in the back of the closet, like ever.  Some working poor people need some sensible shoes?  Great, I have a pair that would work.  Wait.  Am I crying about getting rid of them because they are a pair I like & are pretty cute?  Give yourself some grace.  Just because you are shedding a few tears doesn't mean that you are a selfish or self-absorbent person (at least that is what I told myself). It may mean you just came face-to-face with the realization that you have a choice.  Each time  you reach out, you love others, you see others you are choosing to put yourself a little lesser. There are some growing pains in that as it doesn't come naturally to us.  It is the opposite of everything we see & hear.  But, although it may hurt a little or be a bit messy there is beauty in it. I am starting to learn that putting yourself a little lesser is how we find some of the freedom we all long for.  When you start seeing others first you can almost hear the chinks as the wall you've built around yourself begins to crumble.  The light filters through & you wonder how long you've been in this solitary confinement you built up around yourself.  You breath in the fresh air you see the blue sky & you step out taking one messy, beautiful step after another.  Choice-by-choice.  Encounter-by-encounter.  One smile or kind word or action by another.    Probably won't get it right every time but then just try again. Slowly I hope to feel like a little less of a fraud & more like one who takes those words to heart & learns to live by them.

Imperfections-My Messy Beautiful.

Sitting in my kitchen.  Early morning drinking my first cup of creamer coffee for the day I look around in disgust.  The sink is full of dirty dishes.  The kitchen table has crumbs galore scattered all over it.  Are those from yesterday's lunch or dinner I wonder?  Did I really not wipe them off?  There are milk splatters, evidences of marker gone off the paper, scratches, indents & the table is just looking warn.down.  I am sure the table always looks like this, but this morning as the sunlight filters in just so it seems to highlight all of these "imperfections".

My husband & I bought this table when we were living in Minneapolis getting ready to host our first Friends Thanksgiving.  We realized that as our guest list grew our options of seating were dwindling.  So one day,while I was working, my husband & a friend of ours scoured The Cities for a table that would suit us.  They ended up finding a brand new table which I have to say at that time in our lives was a novelty as we were still in the mismatched, used, hand-me-down furniture phase. The table was less than $300 & the great thing was that it had a leaf that folded in to the table & when fully raised it could accommodate up 8-10 people comfortably. We were set for our feast! The not-so-great thing was that it didn't come with any chairs & our budget was used up at that point.

Thus our first of many Thanksgiving dinners with friends began with everyone bringing their own chair to sit in.  It was a mismatched & imperfect gathering of chairs, but it was a full & joyous gathering. That is the thing I seem to need perspective about so often in this season of mothering young kiddos.  Without it I can easily get amnesia.  On the mornings that I look around my kitchen in disgust I typically either shift into guilt mode: "Can't believe I let it get like this.  What a slacker mom I am that I can't stay on top of it.  I hope no one stops by."  Or I shift into To-Do list mode where I can't stop to play with the boys much less slow down long enough to answer a question they may have.  I get obsessed with the items on my list & crossing them off.  I also write things down I have already done & then cross them off to make myself feel even more efficient. Anyone else?  Seriously try it if you don't already do it.  Makes you feel a ton more productive.  There is no shame.   Don't get me wrong about the lists & accomplishing things & even cleaning  those are not bad things at all.  We are grown-ups and have grown-up things that need to get done at times.  Just for me those "things" can sometimes get in the way of living life.

Will my kids remember that we had a jacked-up table or will they remember making the messes & the memories that came along with it? Will they remember always having a full cupboard of clean dishes or will they remember me saying "Can't right now I have to do the dishes"?  Even though I am no domestic diva I can at times let the to-do's prioritize me rather than me prioritizing them.  Sometimes I see the crumbs & dirty dishes as my failings rather than as evidence of lives being lived in my home.  I see the "imperfections" as a negative & not as the obvious in-my-face reminders of how amazingly full my life is.  I am hopeful that when my boys grow up & reflect back on their childhood that the memories they hold closest to them will not be the cleanliness of our house, but that it was just dirty enough to be a happy home.  And I am hopeful that I will not get amnesia about the "imperfections" as often & will instead look around & be thankful for the beautiful mess that is my life.

tricky.

It is a tricky thing to be a mama & have your heart live outside of your body.  You want what is best for your little ones.  You don't want them to have their feelings hurt or to feel disappointment or loss.  You want to protect them from all of it.  Yet, the tricky part is it would be a disservice to them if we did that.  If we shielded them from all of the emotional threats that may come their way & insisted they live under our bubble of protection how would they grow into effective & healthy adults?  How would they be able to function with all of the hurt, disappointments & struggles that come along with all of the adult stuff?  How would they know to turn to a savior to find their comfort & to place their burdens?

That being said it is no fun at all to have your little one come home & say "So & So doesn't want to be my friend anymore."  When I heard that it was literally like someone sucker punched me.  Why wouldn't anyone NOT want to be friends with my kiddo I asked myself?  This amazing, fun, creative kid?!  Then I reeled myself in & started wondering what my kid did to the other kid in order to garner this response.  Then I started thinking about how much more awful things kids could & do say to one another.  Then I wondered if my kid took it out of context or if the other kid even really knew what he was saying.  I didn't want to go all mama bear like I did when this same kid would get pushed down as a toddler at the local park I just hurt for his hurt.  I could feel his sadness & disappointment & I wanted to make it all better with hugs & words & maybe some ice cream?  Okay not ice cream, but wouldn't that be awesome (maybe not for our waistlines) if a scoop of cookies & cream really did make everything better?  I would have a freezer full of the stuff if it actually worked.

 So instead of passing on my emotional eating issues to my 6-year-old I did the only thing I could do.  I asked him how it made him feel, we chatted & I prayed.  Prayed about not letting my relationship "junk" become his issues, prayed about the friends to come, prayed about how thankful I was that God will never leave my little guy & how He is the best friend my kiddo will ever encounter & I am so thankful.  I gave my son  & his relationships over to God & I have a sneaky feeling this will be something I will have to do over & over & over throughout his life.  Amazing how resilient little ones are as he was over it in a second & just wanted to know if he could go play.  I imagine eye rolling & sighing will be interjected into future like conversations, but for now I am just thankful he trusted his little heart to me & thankful I didn't get an ice cream headache from stuffing my face with some cookies & cream.

sick days.

Mama said there be days like this.  Where one sick day turns into many.  When you are sequestered in your home with sick kiddos.  When plans are cancelled, birthday parties are missed & weekend overnights & no longer a reality.  Sick days might just be the mortar that holds the family together.  Yes, there are other things that bond: game nights, great conversations, cheering from the sidelines, but at night when all is quiet & the meds have been given, the prayers said & still their feverish selves racking with coughs can't find relief there is none other than their mama who brings comfort.  It is our mere presence that makes them feel better, it is our comfort they cry out for.  Would we climb out of bed over & over in a single night for anyone other than our kiddos? Seems like a constant learning process to me.  It is churning us over & over working the selfishness out.  Teaching us to put others before ourselves.  Wiping their nose before our own.  Make sure they get the last of the OJ.  Watching hours of Jake the Neverland Pirate (will I ever be rid of that song in my head?!) because it acts as a distraction to their discomfort.

As I sat here this morning thinking how this whole sick week has had it's benefits & that surely I must be growing from it, because who would want it to all be for naught, the next thing you know I was pretending to be asleep on the couch so no.one.would.bother.me.  Gah!  Imperfect progress.  I don't think I will ever have this motherhood thing figured out.  But I guess that is one of the benefits of this vocation.  You are constantly learning & those under your care don't look down on you if you don't have it all together.  Rather they cheer & take delight in the unexpected.  They find you "asleep" on the couch & tell you it's okay if you want to go to bed.  They are on your team & you are on theirs.  Even when said team is covered in snot & coughing in your face.

memories.

Many a times in the last few days I have sat down at this computer & started to write.  Nothing has come to completion, but it has all had the same subject matter. My dad.  He has been on my mind so much lately.  I have had so many memories come to mind that at random moments I will laugh out loud.  Just today that happened as we were in the car & my youngest asked what was so funny.  How do I explain to a 3-year-old that I was laughing about a man he'd never met.  One whom helps to make up who he is, but that he'll never have the chance to know?

My dad passed away five years ago.  On Valentines day.  Seriously?  Worst holiday ever to loose someone on.  Everywhere there are candies and hearts and balloons and flowers.  Meanwhile there are a few of us who reflect on the man who was.  Not that we wear black or don't celebrate the day.  Maybe at first it felt a little off to be doing so, but if you knew my dad you would know he would guffaw at the thought.  He never cared to be the center of attention.  He felt most comfortable behind the video camera not on the stage in front.  It is strange to think of how much has changed in the time he has been gone.  At times it seems he's been gone for decades due to so many new memories that have been made that he is not a part of .  Other times it seems only yesterday that he would be leaning on his & my mom's kitchen counter cracking himself up with his own corny jokes.

When I think of my dad I mostly recall the last few years of his life, the last week specifically, sure there are countless memories of road trips, arguments (he & I were a little too similar), fishing, guitar playing, golfing, card games & football watching, not to mention the times he busted me for coming in after curfew or the looks he would give me when he saw a new tattoo or hair color,  but what left the biggest impression on me was how he suffered so the last few years & yet never once did I hear him complain.  He lost the ability to do so much he loved & so much that we all take for granted.  He was no longer able to go hit a few balls, go out to lunch with his retired work friends much less go down stairs or walk from one end of the room to the other without totally loosing his breath.  He couldn't go into the bottom level of his house.  His skin bled & tore easily.  He HAD to have his oxygen to do any little movement.  I am sure there were many more ailments he had that I wasn't even aware of.  Maybe that was just between he & my mom who cared for him so tenderly.  Yet, he was on this earth two years longer than the doctors predicted.  He got to meet all of his grandchildren, but one, he saw all of his children mature into capable adults.  He knew when the day came for him to leave this place that he would be welcomed into Heaven by those who'd gone before him.

I think it is totally okay to take a few days & sift through the memories of someone who has passed away.  Something I've learned is that when you loose a parent no matter how near or far of a relationship you have with them you loose a tiny bit of yourself as well.  I remember confiding in a friend a few months after he had passed that I missed him.  Her reply saddened me & made me probably swear in my head at her (just being real) she said "Really?  You didn't even seem that close."  Now I know that typically people just don't know what to say when they come face-to-face with someone else's grief.  Grief is something we will all experience, but it is something we all deal with a little differently.  And unless you've gone through it yourself there is a chance you may say some insensitive things to those who are in it.  Don't feel bad though we have grace on you in the moment & then when the time comes & you go through it yourself we will be there for you.

All this to say I miss him. I wish my boys would grow up with knowing him as one of their grandpas.  I wish they could play hours of catch with him.  I wish he was still here laughing & clapping his hands together when he was trying to convince you that a shot of whiskey out in the garage is what would cure that sore throat.  But I think that it has taken him being gone for me to learn to appreciate the father he was & the wisdom he held. I wish I could say that we had an amazing father-daughter relationship & that when I think back over our lives together that they were conflict free &  that he was always loving & that I was always respectful.   But we people are messy & so are the lives we lead.  Although it was far from perfect it was ours.  And I am going to take it.  I am going to embrace our story & keep adding to it.  So that one day when my boys are talking to their children they will be able to share stories about Grandpa Wil & how he lived the life he'd been given.