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.