Ridiculous Gifts

Our children woke up excited and eager to see what wondrous treasures awaited them on Christmas morning. This made me think about the different types of gifts that are given, especially this time of year. There are gifts of practicality, like a new pair of shoes or clothes. There are gifts of pure pleasure, like that much wanted video game, or that precious new baby doll. There are gifts for the whole family to enjoy, like a weekend away, or a new pet to love. And then there are those utterly ridiculous, impractical, going to end up in the garbage in a few weeks type of gifts. But the pleasure that is derived for that brief moment in time from such gifts far outweigh the ridiculousness of the item.

We had one of those in the present pile. Selah loved the movie, "Tangled." So much so that she's watched it three times already, and would go again if I would let her. So when we saw this monstrosity, we threw our better judgement out the door and bought it. Looks harmless enough in the box. Notice how somewhat normal it looks on the little girl on the cover of the box.

Now look at it on Selah. Sigh. Not only does she look crazy, but there is 2 feet long shiny blonde hair all over my floor. On her clothes. On my clothes. On the furniture. Everywhere. But she's deliriously happy, so I can live with it.

Overlooked moments

One of my friends made a video titled "those simple moments." It was his way of showing the beauty that exists in the simple, ordinary moments of life. I love that reminder and that challenge...to seek for the special in the mundane, because it's always there if you look carefully enough.


overlooked // those simple moments from Chris & Oliver Cinema on Vimeo.


So along that vein, I wanted to think about some of the overlooked moments of this past year for me.

Moments like....

When a smile changed from the polite one exchanged among acquaintances and strangers, to one exchanged among friends. That smile often looks the same, but it comes down to the eyes. A smile among friends extends all the way up to the eyes. There is a sparkle, a warmth, an authenticity that sets it apart. I feel so privileged to have witnessed that smile in many of the relationships I've forged this year.

When that smile doesn't change from old friends. Moving took away the convenience of seeing many of my old friends on a daily basis. But it's pretty amazing when time and distance doesn't negate the strength of a friendship.

When a finger is where it should be. When our kids were born, we would joke that all was good because we counted all ten fingers and toes. Never has that been more true for me than this year. After having my youngest lose a part of her finger, and then have it reattached back on, I often just stare at her hand and marvel at how thankful I am for her finger.

When a soccer goal was made. My oldest has been playing soccer since he was five. Every year, we've watched him work hard, be a good team player, and have a good attitude. And every year, we've watched him not score a goal. He's assisted in plenty of goals, but never had the chance to put one in himself. We always tell him that there are flashy people, and solid people. And while flash gets a lot of attention, it's the solid that has longevity. After four years and countless times of being solid, it was a beautiful moment to see him get a bit of flash this year.

When notes become music. This year, our oldest two boys have started the transition from just playing notes or tapping drum beats to truly making music. Music that not only sounds "correct," but also comes from the soul. My goal of being the next jonas bros, hanson, or partridge family (depending on what generation you are) is halfway there.

When laughter rings out in the house. For all the yelling, whining, and crying that happens in our household (and that's just me), I love that laughter is still the predominant sound of our family.

So take a moment and look for those special moments hidden in the ordinary routine of life. What are some of yours from the past year?

More things no one told me about motherhood

When my day began yesterday, I never thought that it would end with me sitting in an ER room holding a tupperware filled with ice and part of my daughter's finger.

A few hours earlier, we were getting ready to celebrate my third guy's birthday. Our older two were out at their activities, so our plan was to take the younger two to dinner. As John and I were getting things ready, we told the kids to get their shoes on and get in the car, as they have done time and time again. I heard them shuffle out the mud room, and the door to the garage slamming shut. I heard Selah screaming and went quickly to the door assuming that they were fighting, or she had fallen, or some ordinary circumstance like that. Instead, when I opened the door, I saw her sitting on the step holding her hand with blood dripping down all over the floor. All I saw was blood, at which point my scream brought John over. Getting into doctor mode, he examined her hand to see where the blood was coming from when he shouted, "It's her finger. Her finger is cut off!" As he quickly took her to the car, I ran and got a tupperware, filled it with ice, and placed the top of her right ring finger into it, and off to the ER we went.

No one told me that this was part of my job description as a mom. No one told me that I would have to stay calm and focused when all I wanted to do was scream my flipping head off. No one told me that I would have to swallow my own tears so I could be busy wiping my child's. No one told me that I would have to find a way to tell stories and sing songs to distract her from the pain when the last thing I wanted to do was tell stories and sing songs.

No one told me that I would also have to simultaneously comfort my son who was crying in the corner of the ER room because he was spending his birthday with no dinner, no cake, and the knowledge that he had accidentally cut off his sister's finger. To make matters worse, a friend came and picked him up from the ER and bought him a happy meal for his dinner. When he opened his happy meal, there was no toy in the box. Happy birthday bud.

Long story short, they took her to the OR and reattached her finger. They hope that because she is so young, and children are amazingly resilient, the reattachment will be successful and all will be well in time. For now, her finger is tightly wrapped up with her arm in a sling, and we will need to protect and coddle that hand like a newborn baby for a few weeks. As horrible as this all was, it could have been worse. It was just the top of one finger, and in the grand scheme of things, not the end of the world. She got up this morning and started pirouetting around with her gimp hand, so we have high hopes that she will be just fine.

We also broke all the rules and ate Gabriel's birthday cake for breakfast before school today. Selah will get to watch as many of her videos as she wants, and eat as much of her halloween candy that she desires. That's also part of the job description of moms. I get to pick when we can break the rules, and no time more appropriate than today.

Army of Moms

Yesterday, we took our daughter to the American Girl store. Somehow, we ended up on their mailing list and have been flooded with catalog after catalog every few months for the past year. Sometimes I'm quick enough to toss it into recycling before she notices it, but most times, she clings to those catalogs and points out incessantly which ones she likes. Finally, after months of her puppy dog eyes and (how do I put this) "assertive communication," we gave in and decided to get her the bitty baby. After fighting through weekend traffic and crowds, we made our way there and walked out with the newest member of our family, baby Maggie, who she also nicknamed Shaggy. In spite of all the sacrifices it took to get it for her, the look of pure joy and happiness made it all worth it.

It melts my heart into a thousand tiny pieces to see my kids light up like that. Now I'm a firm believer that things do not bring happiness, and I work hard to instill in my kids that they should never put their value and joy and identity into what they have or don't have. But I do believe that if a gift is given in love, there is definitely value and joy in that, both for the giver and the one who receives. I can't help but think about moms around the world who want to express that love to their children through gifts, but for whatever reason, can not. I think every parent should have the joy of watching their kids light up from a well chosen present.


Since moving to my neighborhood, I have had the chance to meet many new, awesome mom friends. For all our various differences and personalities and interests, one common denominator I have seen is that not only do we ferociously love and protect our own kids, but we can greater understand and associate ourselves with the greater community of kids at large. Just a few weeks ago, I witnessed our collective anger towards an establishment in town that treated a child with food allergies so atrociously and heartlessly. She was not our child, but our anger and call to action was no less passionate than if it were our own. Or I think back to a few months ago when some moms in the neighborhood found two children wandering lost on the first day of school. While the rest of us were taking pictures and shedding tears at the playground, these children were walking themselves to school (unsuccessfully) with a garbage bag filled with rag tag supplies. As this story was circulated, we all felt that collective sense of injustice and wanting to help in some way. We all recognized the discrepancy that we have tons of backpacks sitting in our closet unused simply because they were out of fashion, while children in our own vicinity were walking to school with garbage bags. If the school district had not taken the lead in helping those children out, there would have been an army of moms here that would have taken the lead. That is the power of mothers, especially of those I have had the privilege to meet here.


So especially as we move into this holiday season, I want my family to be passionate about providing that chance to see other kids light up with joy. The joy not necessarily from a new toy, but from being valued enough to receive one. Our family will be collecting new toys for a gift mart that our church holds in east aurora and joliet through the elementary schools. Parents there will be able to buy great new toys at a reduced rate of $2. All the profits made at the gift mart go straight back into the elementary school that is hosting it. If any of the moms in my neighborhood would be interested in participating, you can drop off toys to me at any time, or even better, volunteer as a family to help out at the gift mart and see how such a small thing can affect so much change for a community of people. If this isn't the right fit, there are many other worthwhile organizations and opportunities out there to connect with and contribute to. One thing I know, the army of moms is a powerful weapon and I'm glad to be a part of it!

Halloween Musings

So halloween is coming up, and I had these grand visions of my family of six strolling thru my neighborhood in perfectly coordinating group ensembles. I threw out idea after idea about what they could be to accomplish this goal.

Dorothy, Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion! NO!
Mario, Luigi, Toad, Princess Peach! NO!
Ketchup, Mustard, Hot Dog, and French Fries! NO!
Sue Sylvester, Finn, Puck, Artie! (Okay, that was more for me)

As it became painfully apparent that none of my ideas were going to work, my wise husband advised me to simply let them choose what they wanted to be. Sounds easy enough, but I realized that this costume situation represented something so much deeper. It epitomized my daily struggle to love and accept my children as they are, rather than squeezing them into who I think they should be. To walk that balance of guiding their steps without controlling them. To provide boundaries and rules, but within those perimeters, granting them the freedom to make their own choices and preferences, even if they should differ from mine. And when they do differ from mine, to fully support them instead of passive- aggressively implying that I know better. For a control freak like me, this is much easier said than done. But I'm working on being that kind of mom.

So off we went to the store, and each child picked within my perimeters the costume of their choice (no gore....it's asking too much for me to be okay with my kids walking around with an axe in their heads or some weapon of mass destruction in their hands). So this halloween, I will be strolling thru my neighborhood with a banana, 2 ninjas, and a cinderella. No unified theme. No perfectly coordinated ensemble. Just four kids happily wearing what they wanted, which I'm learning makes it pretty perfect to me.

Thankful

I think when you've been married for a good amount of time, coupled with the busyness and stress of life and kids and work and activities, it's easy to let common manners and courtesy towards your spouse or children go out the window. I remember growing up rarely hearing my parents ever say thank you, or please, or even I love you. I suppose you could attribute some of that to the culture, but at the root of it, it was just a genuine lack of appreciation for each other.

That feeling of entitlement so quickly and easily creeps in. I'm entitled to feel this way. I'm entitled to have my spouse do those things because that is their job. I'm entitled to not say thank you because they didn't say thank you to me. I'm entitled. Even as a young child, I remembering vowing that I would fight hard to make courtesy and thankfulness the natural fiber of my future family.

10 years into our marriage and four children later, it's a daily fight to remember that vow. That feeling of entitlement is always bubbling under the surface, and it takes effort and grace to keep it there. But I do hope that our kids are growing up realizing that "thank you" and "please" are not just reserved for strangers or acquaintances. I hope that they hear it and say it often.

So yes, I just wrote a blog about my husband. But I don't want my thanks and appreciation to be limited to special occasions and big moments. So thank you that you took the kids to school this morning so I could run. Thank you that you are currently using your day off to paint the outside of the house. Thank you that you are taking care of Selah so I can go out to lunch with girlfriends. Thank you that you put up with my crazy, bordering on violent, ranting yesterday because our wretched cable provider dvr (ahem...comcast sucks) failed to record the glee episode. Thank you.

Yearly Birthday Post

Today is the husband's birthday. I've officially known him since I was sixteen years old, so I've walked through life with him for the past 19 years. 19 years is a long time to amass some memories.

There was our first date to taco bell for my birthday. His one and only credit card got eaten up by the atm machine, so we found ourselves wandering U.of I's campus with what I had in my purse, which was two dollars and some change. So taco bell it was. Hmmph.

There was the time my water broke in the middle of the night with our firstborn. I cried out to him that we needed to go to the hospital and without even opening his eyes, he pulled the doctor card and told me that I probably just peed on myself. Needless to say, if I didn't have amniotic fluid dripping down my leg, I would have given him my best right hook.

But for every one of those memories, I have a million more truly amazing ones.

Like when we were in Africa together and covered in dirt and grime and dust. Our clothes were filthy, we probably smelled, and our hair was a hot mess (his hair without product in it is definitely way worse than mine without product). But I remember him goofing around with some of the village kids, laughing as he spun them around and held them. And he never looked more handsome.

Or the daily, but no less extraordinary, moments of watching him try to put his daughter's hair in a bow, or waiting to watch his sports game because Selah is watching her barbie video. Or when he does the dirty jobs around the house which include, but are not limited to:
changing toilets and getting nasty whiffs of the sewage pipe....
cleaning out our outdoor garbage can that had maggots wiggling around all over the bottom...
disposing of the r.o.u.s's (rodents of unusual size) that we seem to find in our backyard....side note, "Princess Bride" is still one of the best movies ever.

Or going through stressful and difficult life moments, and knowing we are fighting through it together. Especially this past year, with moving and starting over to his mother's illness, I will look back on this season of life and be thankful for John's inner strength and character.

So happy birthday husband of one and father to four and doctor to many! Here's to another year of memories.  I'll make sure to buy you a taco today.

LIfe Lessons at the Buffet

So last week, all our boys had their first batch of soccer games. Our oldest two won their games, and our third guy ran around, which we consider a win since he doesn't like to sweat. So to celebrate, we went out to a family dinner to Sweet Tomatoes. My kids have never been to an all you can eat buffet type place. I don't even know if they knew such things existed. Anyway, you would have thought they had died and gone to heaven. Their eyes were as wide as saucers, and they excitedly filled their plates over and over again.

Salad, pasta, bread, soup, pizza, pudding, fruit...they consumed it all. Then to cap it all off, they made their own sundaes complete with toppings and sauce galore. Midway through the meal, I started getting that tingly feeling we moms get sometimes that serve as our warning signal or red flag, and I felt compelled to tell them to stop eating. But they looked so happy that I ignored it and watched them go back for more and more.

As we left the restaurant, I glanced over at my oldest and again felt that tingly feeling. But, I just assumed that feeling was because it had been such a long day for all of us and we just needed to go home. We loaded up into the car and started driving. We were telling jokes and laughing when all of a sudden, my oldest's laugh turned into a bubbly, gurgle/gagging sound. I turned around and saw that his cheeks were puffed out and his lips were barely containing whatever was in there. I quickly passed back a bag in which he promptly emptied out the contents of his mouth and more. When he had finished, his only comment between moans was, "There goes my chocolate sundae with sprinkles and oreos." It took some serious effort for the rest of us to keep our food down during this episode, but thankfully, we did since I had no more plastic bags to spare.

Important life lesson was learned by my kids that day. There is a fine line between enjoyment and gluttony. I don't think they will be repeating this anytime soon. I certainly won't be ignoring my tingly feelings anymore either. And I most definitely will be putting some extra bags in my car just in case.

Angel in the SUV

I have officially lost my mind. "Mom brain" has now become a normal way of life for me. The smart, responsible, detail-oriented person I used to be has been replaced by this new creature that is forever misplacing her keys, or spilling her coffee, or calling her children by the wrong names. But today, I think I hit an all-time personal low.

I was in my garage getting ready to pick up my third from kindergarten. I rummaged through my purse and realized that my keys were in the house. Cursing my mom brain, I put my purse on the trunk and ran inside to grab my keys (you know what's coming). I dashed back outside and sped off on my way. I drove through my neighborhood and out into one of the main roadways. A few minutes later, I see a SUV honking their horn and driving fast behind me. At the next light, they pull up next to me and frantically wave my purse around! Somewhere along the way, my purse had flown off my car and spilled out onto the road. Of course, my purse is jammed with too many things and never zipped, so all the contents had gone spilling out. This angel in the SUV stopped and picked up all my items on the street and raced after me. Before I could even adequately thank her, she went on her merry way, leaving me feeling both elated and moronic at the same time.

So, to the angel in the SUV, thank you for sparing me the humiliation of losing my purse and all its valuable contents. Thank you also for not saying anything about the insane amount of candy I carry in my purse (my emergency stash for preventing meltdowns in public places) or the equally insane amount of lip gloss (it's a bit of an obsession, I admit). Most of all, thank you for not judging or laughing at me for driving with my purse on the car.

The Little Things

As the school year gets ready to begin, I will have 3 glorious mornings where I am completely kid free. That is worth repeating. Completely kid free. Already, I have been fantasizing about what I will do with myself in those precious few hours. To some, my list will seem so simple and unambitious. But to me, my list makes me giddy with anticipation and excitement, like when I stood in line with tweeners at midnight to get the last book in the twilight series. Shoot. Did I just admit that out loud.

Anyway, these are just some of the things I'm looking forward to this year.

Eating breakfast. I think I can count the number of times on one hand during the year that I actually sat down to eat breakfast. My mornings are usually spent feeding the kids and running out the door to get them to school. I gulp my liter of coffee down and let that tide me over for the day. Ironically, I love breakfast foods, especially eggs. I'm coming for you spinach and mushroom omelet with pepper jack cheese melted on top and fresh fruit on the side!

Shopping. Any and all kinds. Grocery. Clothes. Cleaning supplies. I don't care. I just look forward to having a cart to actually put things in, since usually there is a kid or two in the cart limiting my space. I look forward to taking my time instead of seeing it as a mad sprint to grab what I need before the time bomb that I call Selah erupts. On a side note though, if ever there was a competition that required finding groceries, scanning it at self check out, and bagging it in the quickest amount of time, I would rock that baby.

Bookstores. Oh, how I have missed you bookstore. You were a constant in my life, but the kids took me away from you. Aside from the quick visits to the kids section, I rarely peruse your shelves anymore. There is a couch at borders calling my name, and books that I am meant to find.

Adult conversation. I can finally hang out with girlfriends again without feeling distracted and pulled away. I plan on putting on my heels and enjoying the company of quality women.


Maybe after I tackle these little things, I will move onto more ambitious goals like changing the world. But this will do for now.

My "Happy Place"

So number 4 has been having a rough few days. As stated in my last post, her gremlin side has come out with a vengeance, and coupled with my husband working long hours this week, I have been on edge. Actually, to be more accurate, I've gone over the edge. The only thing worse than my four year old having a tantrum is when this 35 year old does.

Anyway, the only way to come back from the edge is to rely on the things that keep me sane. These are my personal tried and true coping mechanisms.

Running. Just me and my music. Something so therapeutic about sweating out my frustration. The longer I run, the more stress or frustration I have in my life. My neighbors have seen me a lot this week on a seemingly endless loop. There she goes again. There she goes again. There she goes again.

Books. I love getting lost in a story. Coupled with a good cup of coffee, that's an instant happy pill. Liesel Meminger, Lisbeth Salander, Jeannette Walls, Zoey Redbird (sheepishly admitting this one). They have been my happy pills. Extra credit to those who know who these characters are.

Prayer. I simply can't fathom trying to do this parenting thing on my own. I'm drowning. I need Him. As that great theologian Jon Bon Jovi so wonderfully stated, "whoa, we're halfway there. whoa-oh, living on a prayer." Alright, maybe that's not what he meant by the song, but that is the beauty of individual interpretation.

Mom friends. They are the ones who remind you that you aren't going crazy. They are the ones who won't judge you when you don't want to be with your kids anymore. They are the ones that whisk you away on a girl's night out because they know it's a matter of life and death. They are the ones who understand the journey because they walk it too. It's nice to not feel alone.

Thankful for all of the above. Starting to feel sane again. At least till tomorrow.

Glimpses of the future

So today John and the boys had a men's night out. They ate man food, watched karate kid, and now have their own code language about hanging up the jacket or something like that. While they were out, Selah and I did our own ladies' night out.

First, we went shopping. Not just anyone can take Selah shopping. It takes a keen eye for detail and ninja sharp reflexes to survive such an outing. You see, she has a look. She enjoys shopping until the moment she decides she is over it. It could be five minutes, it could be a few hours, but when that look comes, I know to scoop her up and run. Run Forrest, run. That look is like my crystal ball into the future, and that future involves me turning red from embarrassment or anger, neither of which I wear well. It doesn't matter if I have hit the motherload of deals - nothing is worth what she becomes. I liken it to that wonderful cinematic classic, Gremlins. See how cute Gizmo is! Don't you just want to squeeze his furry little face.

 But if you don't pay close attention, they turn into this!

Anyway, it was a good day, because we shopped without that look ever showing up. We ended our date by getting a free ice cream scoop, courtesy of the reading program at our library. As she ate her ice cream, we sat peacefully watching the bustle of our little downtown, and conversing about the things that are on the heart of a four year old little girl. In that moment, I saw another glimpse into the future. A future where maybe, just maybe, we would have more moments of sitting together and sharing the things that are on her heart.  A future where I see not the girl before me, but the woman she will be. And a future where maybe, just maybe, she will talk to me about her own little gizmo, and I will show her this blog.

Things I Can't Say No To

I'm pretty good at saying no. Just ask my kids.
Can I buy this? NO
Can I eat this? NO
Can I stay up? NO
Can I come out of time out? NO
See...no just rolls off my tongue.

But there are some things I can't seem to say no to. Here are my top 5.

JCrew, and in particular, a JCrew sale (which happens to be going on right now...sorry honey if you notice something on the next credit card statement). It's quite embarrassing to walk into the store and realize that I own way too much of their merchandise as evidenced by the fact that I'm wearing it from head to toe. It's even more embarrassing when other customers ask you for help because they mistake you for a worker. It's most embarrassing that I often play along and ask them what they are looking for because I could probably locate it for them.

Coffee. This is my liquid courage to face the day. Do not even attempt to have a conversation with me until I've had it. Just don't do it.

Karaoke or any such variation of it. We bought the rock band game for John and I, not our kids. My all time favorite karaoke song....Alone by Heart.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Cw1ng75KP0&feature=avmsc2
This is classic 80s video making at its best. I'm pretty sure I rocked their hair in junior high.

Potato chips. It's everything I love....salty, crunchy, bite size. Because I know how weak I am with these, I never let myself buy these at the store. Unfortunately, poor John has had to run out to walgreens late at night because I'll turn to him with my puppy dog eyes and sigh deeply, "I wish I had some chips." He's a good man.

Most of all, I can't say no to any requests from my kids to be hugged, kissed, or held. When they ask to sit on my lap, or get another kiss, or be held just a little longer, I rarely resist. I relish these moments when I'm still their favorite person.

So if you see me hugging my kids in my jcrew outfit with a coffee in one hand and chips in the other while rocking out to heart, you'll know why.

Love you Forever....Like you sometimes

I love love love my children. I can't imagine my life without them in it. I would give my life in a heartbeat for them. Well, if you ignore the time that we were at my oldest son's little league game and a baseball came flying over the fence towards the bleachers where we were all sitting. Instinctively, I raised my hands to cover my head while leaving my other three children exposed. But in my defense, they are young. Their teeth would have grown back.

Anyway, when I started this journey of parenthood, I never realized that even though I would always love my kids, I wouldn't necessarily always like them. I feel this battle most strongly with my youngest. On her good days, she is feisty, spirited, opinionated, and full of life. On her bad days, she is bossy, stubborn, unyielding, and full of fight. As much as I would like to say she gets it from my husband, I know it's me packaged in a little four year old's body. It's me unredeemed, unchanneled, untrained. She'll get there, but in the interim, we don't always get along.

I have to remind myself constantly that one day, she and I will get along famously. Most of my friends are feisty, spirited, opinionated, and full of life. Channeled in the right direction, these are the people who get things done, influence people, and change the world. It just kind of stinks to be the mom of one right now.

Yesterday was one of those moments. We left noodle night at our pool and she decided that it was unacceptable that her brothers dared to get in the car before her. She became inconsolable, screaming bloody murder on the car ride home. She pushed and provoked her brothers, trying to get them to lose their cool. She refused to put her pajamas on, which resulted in me running around the house after a naked little girl. She fought an epic battle until she was tucked in bed, at which point she sweetly looked up and said, "I love you forever mommy." I have whiplash keeping up with her moods.

I love love love my children. I may not always like them, or the choices they make, but I am committed to helping them become the best version of themselves. Training begins anew today.

Watch out, one day she's going to change the world.

Uprooting

We did some de-cluttering of our landscaping recently, and part of it entailed uprooting this unhealthy tree. It wasn't even a very big tree, barely taller than me, which if you know me isn't very tall. But it had some deep roots, and removing it was no easy feat. Well, that's what it looked like to me anyway as I was sipping my diet coke in my air conditioned house while watching my husband shave years off of his life removing it. But I digress. My point being that uprooting is often a messy, painful, painstaking process.

Our family uprooted last summer. We had basically been in the same area for 18 years. In that time, we had laid down some deep roots, and built an amazing network of awesome friends. When we moved, that awesome network of friends suddenly became miles away.

I had to re-learn how to make friends right along with my kids. One of the downfalls of having such a great group of friends before was that I never had to "make friends" anymore. I had plenty. There wasn't an aching need to add to my friendship circle, especially as I got older. But with the move, my circle disappeared and I was pushed back out into the unknown.

But I like a challenge. And I know the value of having great friendships, so I'm willing to put in the work and patiently rebuild that network. My friendship circle that had been so tight was forced open, but as a result, I realized my heart and life had room for way more people than I realized. People I'm supposed to meet and walk through life with here. People that are going to laugh with me, teach me things, share my sorrows, maybe even share my idiotic love of reality tv. People that I would have missed out on meeting if I hadn't moved. Maybe in a few years, I'll have built another tight friendship circle. But I hope that I'll have learned to treasure those friendships without being closed to inviting new ones in. 

So to friends old and new and yet to be met, I'm looking for you! (but not in a stalker freak way....really....)

Definition of Sexy

When I was a little girl, I thought Ricky Schroeder and Ralph Macchio were sexy. My room would be splattered with posters from tiger beat with their feathered back hair, polo shirts with the collars styled up, and acid wash jeans. Oh pony boy, nothing gold can stay.

When I was in high school and college, I officially became a broadway geek and thought guys like Hugh Panaro, Michael Ball, and Adam Pascal were sexy. The way they used their voices, the way they effortlessly belted out those notes, the way they hung on to a note till just the last moment before they let their vibrato close it out....hot. Hmmmm, I guess I still think that's sexy.

But I've had 10 years to observe John as my husband, and 9 of them as a father, and he has totally altered my definition of sexy. This is sexy....

Watching him bounce and sway as he tried to put a crying baby to sleep. Then watching him knock out on the couch with sleeping baby on his chest.

Asking him to run out to target to buy diapers and having him return instead with a girly, flowery lamp for our baby girl, just because he thought she would like it (she was 3 weeks old).

Seeing him play ball with the boys after a long long long day at work.

Watching him dance with Selah because she thinks he is her prince.

Knowing he wakes up early to make the kids pancakes and sausage because they love it (by the way, I am still sleeping since I think our kids will grow up just fine eating cereal).

The way he reads stories to the kids with made up voices and accents.

How he gives his last bite of food to the kids if they ask.

Seeing how much the kids light up when he walks through the door, and seeing him light up right back.

Ralph Macchio could never hold a candle to that. Or I guess in current times, Robert Pattinson, even with all his smoldering looks and trend setting hair, could even compare in my eyes.

Kids don't think he's sexy, but they do agree he's pretty awesome.

I like Gabriel's card the best. That is Daddy laying out as the 3 boys are floating away on shark infested waters. Maybe Daddy can't see them floating away since he has no eyes.

Props to all the dads out there, especially ours!

Death of the Home Party

Considering how big and sweaty and testosterone-filled Nathanael and his friends are getting, I decided to do my first non-home birthday party. At first, I had that guilt that I wasn't being all martha stewart like. Then I had guilt over all the money we would spend renting out a place.

But then we had the party and I have seen the light.

Nathanael wanted his party at an indoor sports place so he and his friends could do what they do best.....run, sweat, kick, sweat, throw, sweat, catch, sweat....

They played soccer, wiffle ball, and old school dodge ball. But the highlight of the party was the kids versus grown ups game. John definitely enjoyed re-living his childhood. It was a pretty awesome match. Kids prevailed.

But my personal highlight of the party....watching them eat snacks and pizza and drinks and cupcakes and not having to lift a finger. See that girl in the red shirt. Let's just say she earned her tip and then some.

As is our family tradition, we asked for guests to bring a small donation rather than a present for Nathanael to give to the charity of his choice. This year, he chose Food Fight (foodfightforhunger.com), an organization started by high school students in our community to empower youth to eradicate hunger in the world. Love their initiative. Love their vision. Love the hope it gives me for the future leaders of the world. Thanks to all of Nathanael's friends who contributed. We were able to raise $190!

Mama Bear Unleashed

I may be small, but when you trigger my mama bear instincts, I will attack.

At the pool today, that mama bear was unleashed. My number two had just discovered the joy of diving off the boards. I was enjoying watching him jump and run back in line over and over again. As I was watching him, I noticed that these older boys behind him in line were saying something to him. He turned away from them, but they kept tapping him on the shoulder and saying something again and laughing. Being his mother, even though he was not visibly upset, I could tell he was hurt under the surface of his tough face. After he jumped, I waved him over to where I was to ask him what was going on. Before I could finish my sentence, he burst into tears and told me that those boys were making fun of him because he had a mustache.

Now, John and I have poked fun at him from the day he was born about his seeming abundance of testosterone. When I first held him, I burst out laughing because he was so hairy. He had a mustache from the womb. Look carefully at this baby picture. That is not a shadow over his mouth. That is his magnum p.i. mustache.

But the thing is, we can laugh at him. We are his family. We love him. We know him. It's said with affection. It's part of the Lee family code that we can laugh and poke fun at each other. But it's not okay when it comes from someone who does not know him and love him. They may be the same words, and the same jokes, but not said with the same intent.

Usually, I want my kids to fight their own battles. But this situation felt different. He was outnumbered by kids clearly older and bigger than him. My mama bear got unleashed. I leapt out of my chair and went straight into the middle of that diving board crowd with Simeon. I calmly, but quite firmly told those boys that it was not cool to say those kinds of things because they were hurtful, and it better not happen again. I'm not sure what my face looked like, but it obviously was scary enough that it wiped the smirks off their faces as they nodded their heads in agreement.

Looking back, maybe I overreacted. But they hurt my baby. My cute, mustached baby. And I wanted him to know that I have his back always. As we walked back from the confrontation, I felt him squeeze my hand just a bit tighter. Being his mother, I know that meant thank you. You're welcome magnum, you're welcome.

You want my body to do what?!?!?!

So I decided to take this ballet barre inspired exercise class. Now considering that I do a lot of intense cardio classes, as well as running long distances, I went in thinking this would be a nice, relaxing change for me.

Boy was I wrong. Dead wrong.

From the get go, I knew I was in trouble. The instructor had to keep coming to me and correcting my moves or posture. During some of the stretching moves, my legs were shaking so badly it looked like I was having a seizure. Every time the instructor walked near me, she would say, "If anyone needs to take a break, do so and join us a bit later." I could only assume that "anyone" meant me since no one else was having spasms. At the end, we were supposed to sit under the ballet barre with our hands on the barre and our legs pointed forward. Then she said to pull ourselves up with our arms while holding that position, and if possible, let our legs come off the floor. I thought she was giving us a visual to help us keep our posture and position. I didn't really think she wanted us to lift our legs. But as I looked around the class, I realized I was the only one with my legs on the floor. Epic fail.

I was planning on leaving that class and never ever doing it again. But then, all the speeches I gave my kids came rushing back to me (see the previous post for an example of one). I tell them all the time that it's easy to try when you have success or it comes easy. The true test of character is when it's hard and discouraging and failure abounds, but you still try. How could I continue to preach that to them when I was so quick to disregard my own advice. And I do enjoy making speeches.

So I continue to go back. Four classes in and I'm still struggling my way through it. I want to stop. My pride is hurt. But I have four little eyes watching me.

So bring it you ballet people with your gumby legs and superhuman strength. I'm coming for you.

Done well you have, young jedi

So my number two has been playing soccer for the past three years. He got to a point where we felt like he was outgrowing the recreational league. He would look on with envy at his older brother who played in a more competitive league. So when some of his close friends decided to try out for a travel soccer team, we took the plunge and decided to let him go for it as well.



As we were driving to the tryout, this was our conversation.
"I really hope I make it."
"I really hope you make it too. I know how much you want to play with your friends. But all you have to do is try your best and we'll be proud of you no matter what."
Pause.
"If I don't make it, does it mean I'm bad?"

Something about what he said and the way he said it brought a big lump to my throat. It was a stark reminder that there would be disappointments and heartaches and failures that would come into the lives of my children. To try and protect them from such things would be futile and pointless. My job was to prepare them to be able to navigate through these inevitable potholes of life, and I tried my best in that car ride to do just that. I gave an epic speech about the value of failure, the importance of building character, the lesson of perseverance, the meaning of a true champion, and the worth we find not in what we do, but in who we are in Him. If I do say so myself, it was a darn good speech. But that lump still stayed in my throat.

Being new to the travel league tryout system, I was not quite prepared for how intense the evaluation process was. The field filled up fast with kids ready to show their stuff. I won't even mention some of the parents who scared me with their sideline intensity. Warm ups, drills, foot skills, one on one scrimmages, all while multiple coaches were furiously scribbling down notes on all the kids. There were times where I thought Simeon held his own. But then there were times where I felt like he was schooled by some of the other kids. At the end, they had all the kids line up one last time as they wrote a final note on their clipboards. Their fate was sealed. They would let us know in a few days. I didn't think it was possible, but that lump actually grew bigger in my throat. 

Funny how the speech I gave to Simeon really settled inside of him, but I, the author of that speech, was now a big mama mess. As we were driving home from the tryout, this was our conversation.
"I really hope I make it."
"I hope you make it too." (big lump in my throat prevents me from speaking further)
Pause.
"It's okay if I don't make it. I can just get better for next time. I'm glad I tried."

The student had become the teacher. My wise little jedi man.

Epilogue: I had an even more epic consolation speech prepared. It will come to use another time. He made the team.

All Hail Selah Day

My little girl turns four today. Since her birthday falls on a Monday, we celebrated on Sunday by having an "all about Selah" day. Granted, in her mind, this is every day. But yesterday, we all played along as if it were true.

It began with Selah's ballet show. She got to wear her hair up in a bun, and put on a sparkly, glittery costume and tutu.

She and the rest of her preschool dance class definitely stole the show with their rousing twinkle twinkle number.

She got to eat as many sweet desserts at the reception as she wanted.

Best of all, she had all of us sit through the 2 hour show just to watch her 5 minute routine. Nathanael spent the whole time counting how many more numbers till the show was over, and Simeon went deep deep deep into his "happy place." I'm pretty sure he's fighting some imaginary pokemon in his head.

Then we went and picked out a little pet shop house as her present from us and the grandparents. The rest of the evening, her brothers gave her the absolute best gift of all. Without complaint, and without any prompting from me, they played with that pet shop house while Selah barked orders at them. "Nathanael, your doggy has to go in the spinning thing. Now make it spin. Simeon, your monkey has to go to bed. Not that bed. The purple bed. Gabriel, you have to put the fish in the tub."  She loves her brothers. She loves ordering her brothers around. She loves when they obey her. They gave her all of that.

Happy birthday to our little girl who will pirouette one moment, and knock you out the next. Just ask Gabriel. For one brief moment, he forgot that it was Selah day and tried to upstage her. I couldn't take a picture of what happened next because I was too busy consoling him, but let's just say she wiped that smirk off of Gabriel's face fairly quick.

More things change, the more they stay the same

It's been 10 years today that John and I began this journey together. Reflecting back, I can't help but think of all the ways our lives have changed since those early years.

Then: We ate out all the time, going to whichever restaurant our palette felt like indulging in. We ate slowly until we were full and utterly content.
Now: We eat out sporadically, going to whichever restaurant has the buy an adult meal get a free kid's meal deal going on. We watch our kids eat till they are full and content while our own stomachs grumble, and we end up packing our order to go so we can eat in peace.

Then: We saw every movie out there, even the really lame ones. And boy have we seen some pretty lame ones (anyone else see Hard Rain in the theaters...yup...didn't think so).
Now: We see movies when they get to redbox. When we do go to the theater, we never go together. We see it in shifts.

Then: We had tons of pictures together.
Now: We are lucky if we accidentally snap both of us in the shot.

Then: We woke up when our bodies wanted to.
Now: We wake up when our kids want us to.

Then: He never saw any broadway shows or knew anything about pop culture, and I was computer illiterate and had never stepped foot in a home improvement store.
Now: He shares my love of broadway, and no longer thinks I am speaking gibberish when I go off on my pop culture tirades. I know enough about computers to do this blog, and menards has become my bff.

Then: I had portion estimation issues. I was so used to cooking for large groups of people at our church that I had no ability to cook for just the two of us. Poor John ate the same meal for a week at a time.
Now: I still have portion estimation issues. I am so used to cooking for toddlers that I have not quite adjusted to the voracious appetite of my non-toddler boys. Poor John has gone on many unintentional diets this year.

It's been 10 years, and we've been through this.

Then this.

Then this.

Then this.

Now this.

But with all the changes, some things have remained the same. He still "gets" me, even when I don't "get" myself. He is still the first person I want to talk to when something happens. He still makes me feel like the prettiest girl in the room. He still stands unflinchingly by me even when I am not the best version of myself (which is quite often). He still believes in me...the me I am today...and the me I am becoming.

It's been 10 years, and there is still no one else I'd rather walk through life with. Thankful.
(Sidepoint: Perfect illustration of my point above. I had to dig around for just a picture of us two...and it's from our last anniversary)

Here's to hoping for a chicken nugget free dinner tonight.

Four Words I Never Want to Hear

It's been a rough few days. My girl left her blankie at the gym...the blankie she is never without...the blankie that she has loved to pieces (literally)...the blankie that I have to sneak in while she is sleeping to wash...that blankie.

I told her not to bring it in the gym.  Knowing that it's like a valued seventh member of our family, I warned her to leave it in the car. This has happened before. She's left that thing in grocery carts, at other people's houses, at the park. But she has always remembered before we strayed too far, so she has never had a night without it.

Until now.

We left the gym on monday night. We got everyone out of the child care room, past the throngs of sweaty people, past the hustle and bustle of the parking lot, and safely locked everyone into their car seats (that in and of itself is a work out). We made our way through heavier than usual traffic due to some new construction zones, and just as we were about to turn home, I hear the four dreaded words.

Where. Is. My. Blankie.

I won't bore you with the details of the rest of the night. Suffice it to say, there were tears, whining, pouting, boohoo-ing. My favorite had to be the blaming. "Mommy, it was your responsibility to get my blankie." Hmmph. She went to bed with tears glistening on her cheeks, but with the promise that tomorrow we would get her blankie.

But it rained and rained and rained. Then we had her brother's after school activities. Music lessons. Library. Dinner. Bed. Another night without her blankie. Another night with her accusing eyes staring me down while these words rang in my head. "You promised."

Monday night, it was her fault for leaving the blankie. Tuesday night, it was my fault for making a promise I didn't keep.

So Wednesday morning, we drove to the gym. Didn't matter that I was going there later in the day. I could no longer take her puppy dog eyes, her sighs, her continual restating of those four words. Where. Is. My. Blankie.

This was the reunion. This is her breathing in the scent of her blankie.

Welcome home blankie. Welcome home.

You know you're a mother when...

Your child is vomiting and you place your hands under their mouth instinctively while somehow stifling your own gag reflex.

Your baby is constipated after starting solids so you use your own pinky to help loosen their stool.

You clean up stool deposits and urine puddles off of your precious floor during potty training disasters and manage not to pull out all of your hair.

You fish out floating stools during a bath incident. Enough said.

(I know you other moms have done some variation of these examples so don't go "eeewwww" at me, go "eewwww" at yourself.)

You carry kitchen scissors in your purse so you can cut up food for your kids at a moment's notice.

You find yourself at the end of the day realizing you haven't had one proper sit down meal.

You find yourself doing the baby sway while in line even when you don't have a baby on you.

You may not know every world leader, but you could name every character on nick jr and disney.

You can read the same book or sing the same song 20 times in a row and not want to hurt yourself.

You can transform into the incredible hulk when someone dare tries to hurt your child....there is no wrath greater than a mama in protect and defend mode.

And to my own mom.....

You gave up a promising career in pharmacy to touch other people's dirty clothes so that I could have the life you wanted for me.

You would spend what little free time you had to make me the food I loved, even though I happened to love very time intensive foods.

You find such joy in seeing me stay at home with my kids because you never got to be a part of my childhood.

You still make sure that I eat first even though I'm all grown.

You swallow all the hurt I caused and still cause because of our vast generational, cultural, and language differences.

So to my mom and all the moms out there who do all these things and countless more, have a great mother's day and enjoy some much deserved love and gratitude. I know I am. This definitely makes up for all the feces I have touched over the years.