Monday, April 19, 2010

My movie within a movie

We watched Chronicles of Narnia on our family movie night. Our older two boys had read the book, and we just read a children's version of it to our younger two, so everyone was very excited to watch it come to life on the screen.  During the final battle scene though, it became far more amusing for me to watch my kids than anything hollywood could come up with.

Our oldest was first biting his nails, then closing his eyes, then wiping his tears, then beaming like a cheshire cat throughout the battle sequence. He's got such a soft spirit, and it's one of my most favorite things about him. I think he did each of these faces at one point.


Our third was whispering under his breath over and over again, "I like Aslan. I want to be on his team." He's all about being picked for the winning team. Actually, it's all about just being picked. It's hard being the youngest brother in our family.

Our second was silently and intensely watching until he shouted out of nowhere, "Wait a minute, is this fiction or non fiction. Did this really happen? Is this real?" Hmmm....what ever would make you think that? The talking animals, the unicorns, this centaur?

And last but not least, our youngest. As the deeper themes of good versus evil, courage, friendship, sacrifice, and faith were being played out, she only cared about one thing. "I don't like the ice queen's hair or outfit!" The ice queen was bad simply because she wore the wrong thing. Silly ice queen. How dare she try for world dominion in that.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

I got nothing to say

I use my words. I enjoy dialoguing with people. I get energized by verbal banter. Words are important to me. Words are my tool of choice. But there are so many moments in my day where I am rendered speechless. Literally speechless. And I have no words. These are some of the moments from this week where words have failed me.

Youngest child decided to fight us about brushing her teeth. After a firm reprimand, we put her in front of the sink and proceeded to get her toothbrush ready. Meanwhile, she is throwing one of her academy award winning tantrums. But as she is wailing, she happens to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror and pauses to test out a few different pouts and ugly crying faces. After she finds just the right tantrum face, she continues on with her wailing. Speechless.


Sidepoint: Here are some of her faces. We like to take pictures of our kids when they are whining or crying.We like to show them what they look like when they are behaving that way. We also relish the idea of one day presenting them with an album of these pictures when they have their own children. 

Youngest child was watching a barbie ballet video. All of a sudden, she bursts out laughing. Not a giggle, but a full out, gut busting laugh. Out of curiosity, I ask her why she is laughing. She points to one of the characters on the screen and says, "Look at her outfit."  Wonderful. I am raising a future "mean girl." Speechless.

Youngest child went to oldest child's baseball practice. The coaches and players ended the practice with a group huddle, placing their arms in the middle for a team cheer. She walks straight into that huddle on the field and sticks her chubby hand right in....a sea of boys and one pink dress. Obviously, uninvited is a concept she finds unacceptable for herself. Speechless.

Youngest child wraps her arms around me tight as I'm tucking her in, and looks me straight in the eye and says, "I really really love you mama." Speechless. Sometimes, just sometimes, speechless moments are awesome.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Importance of heels

It was completely impractical. Downright ridiculous. But I didn't care. I just had to do it. My kids were playing outside. It was a sunny spring day. And I was running. Running after the baseball. Running after my kids. Running in and out of the house for snacks, drinks, tissues. And I was running.....in my high heels.

Now, I had a choice. I have plenty of running shoes. I have flats. I have flip flops. And dare I admit it, I even have uggs (which I consider to be the equivalent of "mom jeans" for feet). I have many other shoes that would have been appropriate for playing outside with the kids. But I chose to wear my high heels. I was having one of those moments in the life of a stay at home mom. I had spent all day tending to their needs, their wants, their desires. I could feel myself slipping into that mom. That mom that loses her voice in the midst of theirs. That mom that forgets that motherhood is a huge and God given calling of my life, but not the only one. That mom that buries the things that make me uniquely me.

Heels are what I would choose to wear if I didn't have to carry my daughter around, or push a stroller, or chase after baseballs. But since I do that every day, I have to reserve heels for dinner out with girlfriends, or church, or date night with hubbie. And at that moment, that heel took on a whole new meaning. That heel became symbolic of the age old struggle that moms have had throughout the generations...that struggle to wholeheartedly throw yourself into mothering without wholeheartedly throwing yourself out. I could almost hear the music rising to a crescendo as the voices of moms past urged me to fight the battle anew. So with that soundtrack blaring in my head, I put on my heels. And I ran. And I threw baseballs. And I wiped noses. And I mothered. And I was in pain. So much pain. But I felt like me.


Tuesday, April 6, 2010

What no one tells you....

When I was pregnant with Selah, I had in my head a life of tea parties, ballets, princesses, and dainty little playdates. In particular, I envisioned us running down flowery meadows in our white summer dresses with our long hair streaming behind us as the sound of music would be playing in the background. Yes, I know. It's a bit much. But considering I had three boys before Selah, I think I earned the right to drown myself in all things girly.

Well, cut to three years later, and I definitely have my share of tea parties....but it usually is a chaotic scene where all the family members are being bullied into sipping cup after cup of Selah's magically unending pot of tea.

I definitely have my share of ballet.... but it usually is Selah dancing in her frayed tutu and yet another pair of tights that she has managed to put a hole in (from when she tried climbing the tree or leaping off something inappropriate).

I definitely have my share of princesses....but it ends with Selah marrying Ariel and Cinderella with Optimus Prime or Megatron.

I definitely have my share of playdates....but it has more drama and divaness than daintiness.

And that vision I had of us running down the meadow, blah blah blah? Well, we have run down flowery meadows with our long hair streaming behind us...

but it's in grass stained dresses....
and she's running away from me rather than with me.....
and instead of the sound of music in the background, it's only the sound of my loud, mean mommy voice telling her she better turn around or else.

No one tells you about this stuff. But I gotta say, this stuff is way better. It's flawed, but it's real. That dainty, compliant little girl is someone else's child, and I don't want her. I want my child, flaws and all.