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.