Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk!!

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. I didn't take a picture, so I'll have to create the scene with words instead.

It was late morning. The twins were sitting at the bar, finishing their school work. Since it is winter, and I'm feeling festive I offered to make everyone a hot drink. The orders were coming in fast a furious. "Cider- no, hot chocolate, with a candy cane!" "I want 6 small mallows in mine." "Honey, I'll take the Starbucks hot chocolate made with milk, please." Elyse was crying over her missed Spelling words, and the fact that she'd have to write them each 5 times, proclaiming that, no likes her she's in the 3rd grade and I can't spell! She was to preoccupied with her crisis to order up a beverage. I looked up from the weeping mass that was my 3rd grader, only to see that her younger sister had tied one end of a scarf to a bar stool and the other end to the Baker's rack, and was trying her best to Limbo under it without falling. It really was all I could do to keep myself from laughing, long and loud.

Meanwhile, my son was recounting for me that Ramon, one of the contestants on The Biggest Loser, used to order 20 Soft Tacos when he went to Taco Bell. Wanting never to miss a teachable moment, and because my sweet son loves numbers, I proceeded to tell him that a Soft Taco is $1.59 and that Ramon spent over $30, just on one meal at Taco Bell and that didn't even include his drink. Armed with that juicy nugget of information, his eyes grew wide as he declared that eating too much is really EXPENSIVE!

Then it happened, as I was chuckling at the chaos around me I heard a hiss and a sizzle. My milk had boiled over. Don't cry over spilled milk came to my mind, immediately.

Seldom, do I just embrace the mess along with the moment, but for once, I did. I let the scorching, curdling, white globs on my stove teach me a lesson. Messes can be cleaned up, but moments can never be re-captured.

I'm going to try to remember to live in the moment, especially during the holidays, when added stresses make me a little less likely to stop and smell the roses.

I'm going to try to remember to smell the Evergreen, relish the sights, savor the tastes, absorb the sounds and feel the warmth and goodwill that only this season can bring.

So, here's to merry memory making!!!!!!

Cheers...

"Mommy?"

One blurry eyelid opens, then the other. I roll over, to see the silhouette of my 5 year. She's standing with her hand outstretched, clutching a Kleenex. "I have to blow my nose." I sit up, squeeze one nostril, then the other, satisfied she goes back to bed, for 5 minutes. In the last 20 minutes, she's been up 7 times, once to blow her nose, once to tell me she's coughing, once to tell me that she thinks her brother is sick, once to tell me she needs another blanket, once to tell, me she thinks her tummy hurts, another to tell me she might throw up, and then again to let me know she didn't really have to throw up, she just needed to go potty. I appreciate her keeping me so well informed at 2:50 in the morning, really I do. OKAY, that was sarcasm. I'm now wide awake, with little to no chance of going back to sleep, anytime soon.

So, since I'm wide awake and my mind is churning I thought I'd write about what a privilege it is to be the go to girl in the middle of the night. If I choose to look at it the right way, the fact is, that I'm needed, wanted, and preferred. Who else could help my daughter blow her nose quite so expertly? No one.

As the mommy I get to know it first, the good, the bad, the curious. I get help my daughter not only blow her nose, but I also get to help her navigate through life's ups, downs, trials and joys. That is a weighty responsibility. Sometimes, I don't feel up to the task. At those times though, I have to ask myself, "Would I really want to leave the responsibility to anyone else?" Looked at in that light, what are few interruptions in the middle of dream time?

I'm finding, that like anything else, it's all in how you look at it... So, here's to Rose-colored glasses at 3 am. and as a personal side note, it really helps to have a sense of humor.

Happy parenting!!!!!

Even if....

I didn't have visible signs of it marked in my flesh you would still know. There is a thin, white, horizontal scar four inches below my navel. There are telltale dark circles under my eyes from broken sleep. There are the distinct set of lines in my Gabella from making the "You're in so much trouble!" face. All of these and many more physical manifestations, announce to the keen observer that I am a mother. Some people say that motherhood is a badge. I say, it's a full out costume that not only disguises your outsides but morphs and changes every aspect of your insides as well.

Becoming a mother means that nothing is your own. You have to make room in your heart, because it will be utterly taken over by the love you feel for your child or children. You have to make room in your house for all of the "stuff" children need. You have to make room on your bookshelf for board books about colors and shapes. You have to make room in your bed for those nights when your children are sure there are monsters in their closet. You have to make room in your thoughts, because you will never be able to go for 5 minutes without thinking about your child for one reason or another.

In essence there is no escaping the life altering, phenomenal changes that accompany the introduction of a child into your life. I would never want to escape any of it. Each line, each grey hair, each body part, permanently changed, it's part of the package, the package that makes life so much fuller, sweeter and more complete.

I will, however, welcome the day when I no longer find hair bows, fruit snack wrappers, and dried out wipes in my purse. At this very moment I'm chuckling because in the pockets of my robe there is; one penny, one glue stick, a yellow crayon, one marble and a piece of paper with scribbles on it... Even if I didn't have physical markings of motherhood, all you would have to do is go through my pockets and you would know the circumstantial evidence is overwhelming.

I am a mother.

They Say That Breaking Up Is Hard To Do....

The Carpenters said it best, perhaps they knew all about messy relationships?  If you've lived long enough there's a chance you do too.  Good Bye, isn't easy, whether you're letting go of a significant other, a friend, lover, spouse, co-worker, parent, child.....

Fortunately, I'm not letting go of a meaningful relationship.  Unfortunately, I prying my fingers lose from a dream, a way of life, a chapter of my story that I don't feel done writing yet.

I came to this place full of expectations.  It was Spring, Spring naturally lends itself to new beginnings.  I wont say that it was love at first sight, but there was certainly promise and hopefulness in our meeting.  In the six and a half years since I've lived here, the Little Yellow House on the Prairie has been the place I've truly felt at home.  It's not been a house, or a place to lay my head, it has been my home.  Put simply home is defined as a place of residence, or refuge.  For me, home is a feeling, not an actual structure with Dry-Wall and carpet.

In coming here I brought my desire for space and room, room to move, a quiet place to nest, and reflect, to nurture and tend, and that is exactly what I got.  The sky is big here, the view is breathtaking, the quiet is soothing, and there is openness everywhere I look.  I've never felt claustrophobic or confined here, sheltered maybe, but never confined.

This is the place that my oldest child will remember as her first home.  It's the only home my younger children have ever lived in.  Manning Road has been more than our address it's been, a frozen pond in the Winter where my children ice skate.  It's been an open Soccer Field, where kicks are practiced, goals are scored, balls caught.  A veritable treasure trove of outdoor experiences have been shared here.  From Bike Paths,  to rigged Water Slides created from Swing Set parts, Easter Egg Hunts,  Fourth Of July Bashes, Birthday Parties, Mud Fights, countless bon-fires and s'mores....  Over time I'll try to feel and relive my favorite of the sweet memories that I've had here, and I'll smile a  bitter sweet smile, and wonder if I will always look back at my time here as the "Golden Years" of my family's life.

It seems fitting that I should be leaving this place in the Autumn, a time of beauty and change that ushers in an end known as Winter.  I'll only drive the winding road along the river a few more times.  There wont be anymore Early Morning Runs around the loop.  I doubt I'll get a chance to bid the Elk farewell, because there are still a few boxes to pack and a few to- dos left on my list.

The melancholy wont last too long.  It's not in my nature to pine endlessly.  Soon I'll be excited about the next stage and the next chapter that is yet to unfold, yet to be written.  I don't know what lies in store, or where our path will lead us next, but in truth, there is a big part of me that I'm leaving here...

I really do hate good-byes!  For me, breaking up is VERY hard to do...

Congratulations...... Twins!!!

My husband prayed for twins.  I prayed that God would have mercy on me, and ignore my husband's request.  Obviously, God likes my husband better!

Our twins will be five tomorrow.  I find myself wide awake at this insane hour contemplating their brief time here on this earth, reliving some of their finer moments, wondering about their future and so on....

Honestly in my early 20s I had no interest whatsoever in having children.  I didn't like them, they didn't like me, and I was perfectly content with the notion of never being a parent.  Then, I met Steve, who had wanted to be a parent since he was in the 5th grade.  Before we got married he made me promise that I would at least consider the possibility of having children someday.  I conceded.

After four years of marriage I'd experienced a complete change of heart.  I was suddenly willing, to not only consider children but to start having them.  Three long years later we met Elyse, our firstborn.  We had spent years observing our friends who were parents.  We had read countless books on parenting, attended conferences, listened to sermons, and still nothing could have prepared us for what life would be like with her.

Elyse and I had fun.  I'd throw her in the jog stroller and we'd go the the park everyday to swing.  She'd sit in my lap and I would sing to her,  this was before she could talk and voice a protest about my singing.  We read books.  We went for walks.  We traveled.  In fact, I had so much fun being a mommy to Elyse that I was sure she needed a sibling to add to the giggles and good times, and Steve, the one with the great Kid Karma, was all for it.

As is typical with us, we decide something, like, "let's have another baby" and then it takes years for that something to come to fruition.  I'm not sure why that is?  Perhaps it's to teach us patience, or build character?  Who knows?

I remember the day I realized I was pregnant again.  I'd started craving celery and Tomato Juice.  I was short of breath over the slightest exertion, and I'd acquired a metal taste in my mouth, all telltale signs of pregnancy, for me.  I was thrilled when the little stick confirmed what I already knew.  However, when my friend and fellow sonographer Justina said "um.... I see two heartbeats!"  My first reaction was to scream, and not with elation!!!  Actually, I think I may have even uttered an oath or two.  I knew all too well the danger of carrying twins, the added work and sleeplessness that two babies simultaneously, would bring and I wanted NO part of it.

In short, my twin pregnancy was wretched, my twin delivery was nearly fatal, and my first 6 months as the mommy of twins and a 4 year old, was so awful that I've completely blocked it from my mind.  But, that was then, and this is now.

 Now, I watch my two little, five year old people, and I can't imagine doing anything differently.  They are like night and day.  They are eachother's biggest fan, and biggest foe, concurrently protective and abusive.  They laugh, play, run, scream and get into all sorts of mischief together.

For the record, I forgive God for giving me twins, I even forgive my husband for praying for them.  And if I'm really honest, I could never again, imagine my life without them!

Happy Birthday, Snoofola Poofola and Yoni Baloney, I love you all the way to Heaven and back!!!!

The wheels on the bus go round and round....

round and round all through the town, and my children aren't on it!

 I have been enjoying all of the pictures of children dressed up in their new digs, with back packs slung over their shoulders and enthusiasm written all over their faces.  The various comments from parents who are sending their children off for the first day of school, for the first time, or the 10th, have also been fun for me to hear.  Some parents cry, and some parents sigh with relief when it's time to go 'back to school' shopping.  I do believe there is something fresh and exciting about starting all over again,  the air is vibrating with anticipation for what the new year will bring.

I remember watching my oldest child stand at the window on a frosty, dark, morning last school year.  She was gazing out at the flashing lights of the school bus that was stopped in front of our house.  She turned to me with a look of genuine empathy etched on her 7 year old brow.  "Mama, I'm glad I don't have to go stand out in the cold and wait for the bus.  I just got out of bed!"  It struck me at that moment that some small part of her felt fortunate to be staying home with me.  I know, however that I am, the real lucky one!!

I'm lucky enough to be the one to experience the thrill and frustration of learning new things with my children.  Watching the light go on when they've mastered a concept, or seeing the pride in their faces when they've done well at whatever they've put their hand/mind to is truly one of my life's greatest satisfactions.  Curling up on the couch with books, a cup of tea and an eager mind is pretty satisfying as well.

Home Schooling isn't for everyone.  It's hard.  It is filled with pits of angst and frustration.  There is monotony mixed in with the glorious-ness!  For now though, I can't imagine putting my children on a bus.  I'd be missing out on too much.  At some point I may send them out into the unknown, just not yet!   I'm going to be selfish and keep their preciousness, at home, with me for a little longer.

To all of you fellow parents, here's to a new school year, lunch boxes, the smell of erasers, brand spanking new shoes, and boundless opportunities for learning, for us as well as for our children.

Cheers!!

Do as I say, not as I do!!

In general I disagree with the premise of not practicing what we preach. However, every now and then my mommy-hood-ness gives me license for things that I don't allow my children to do, for instance BITING!

The rule in our house is no hitting, no biting, and for pity's sake, keep your hands to yourself!!

Some rules are made to be broken. This morning I was standing in the kitchen and Jonas, my early riser, wandered all sleepy headed from his bedroom. He looked so deliciously rumpled that when he came over for his morning hug, I couldn't help but chomp on his neck a few times. There is something about the way that boy smells, tastes and squeals in protest, that makes my heart sing and my spirit feel light. Nuzzling him is the equivalent of drinking in all of his goodness.

On the off chance that you need permission, or motivation, let me encourage you to nibble on your children today, or someday soon, I guarantee it will make you and your child happy!