"home"less

After we first signed papers selling our house we told people we were "homeless." Because we had no idea where we were going to move.  Not that we would have been on the street, but we really did not know which house we were going to find for our next dwelling.  Then we picked another house.

Now, despite all the boxes and packing, I still felt this home was to be our home for a long time to come.  I have told people we are moving.  I have the address of the new house memorized.  I envision lying in my bed in a new bedroom.  I think back to a couple weeks ago when our boys were laughing on the steps in the foyer while my husband and I met with the home inspector.  What a great sound of their laughter echoing through a house soon to be ours.  This would work...... 

But where we are is home. 

I thought.

I want it to be.  But.....

Tonight we took apart major pieces of furniture.  Every room but the bathrooms now is occupied by either a box or a very prominent foreshadowing of our exit.  We even received a piece of mail for the new owners today.  There are still family pictures on the wall that give a slight shadow of a presence that was, but it is a small glimmer of what this home truly holds of years of memories.  I am reluctant to take them down, yet. They are the sole remaining items that make me feel like this is still our home.

But reality has set in today. 

In a few days we not be "house"less, but I will feel "home"less.  May it feel like home again there soon....

remembering and hoping

So, we are moving.  In a little over two weeks.  This home holds so many memories.  I just keep thinking of the little (and big things).

This is the only home our boys have every known.  I hope the new home brings as many wonderful memories.

I walk by the window at the top of the stairs and think about how I often admired our backyard.  Even if the yard wasn't great, it was ours.  I felt like a princess looking over the courtyard of her kingdom.  I hope there is a window where I enjoy another view of what makes me content with our home.

I look out the front window and remember all the excitement in the circle.  I hope my boys find new friends to run around the neighborhood. 

I look at the swingset and think how when the neighbors were out this was better than the park.  It has been a rocketship, obstacle course, race cars, pirate ship....  You name it, it has gone on the adventure.  The new backyard is a blank slate.  I wonder what it will become.

I look at the basement.  Nine months of labor.  Dealing with waterproofing.  Putting up walls.  Adding a fireplace.  It is more than another room.  I realize the new owners will have no idea how much pride we feel about that basement.  I wonder if they notice the ceiling is yellow.  I hope they take good care of our home.

I see all our neighbors differently now.  Not just neighbors, but wonderful people who have touched our lives and give us so many memories to take with us.  I can only hope for people just as wonderful at the new home.  I'm grateful we will be so close to stop back and say hello.  Maybe pack up the boys bikes in our car to ride around the cul-de-sac again. 

Now that we are signed up to move I wonder if we truly made the right decision.  Time will tell.  Memories will remain.  The neighborhood will change.  There is such an uncertainty in leaving.  There is an excitement in going.  There is encouragement from others about what is to come.  There is disappointment from those we will be leaving.  I have fond memories of the past ten years here.  I hope for many more years of fond memories in the home to come.

Movement

My life is always moving right now.  Almost literally.

We want to move to a new home.  We need to accomplish both buying and selling. 

I am nearing graduation.  I should be making more of an effort to look for a job once I have my degree.  I have no idea where I am going to go.

My children are nearly constantly moving.  I can barely keep up with watching where they go.

I feel as though I am running.  My thoughts keep racing.

I could use a moment to just stand still and breathe.  For the past year and a half of round two of graduate school life has been a whirlwind.  I wonder if there are too many days that have just passed by with moments that should have been cherished that I simply missed as I was caught up in my busy world.

And while I do simply want to stand and breathe, I want to make sure there is something to take in with the fresh air.  I am ready to embrace the chaos of little boyhood this summer.  I am so grateful to once again have days home with my boys.  I am simply looking forward to have a moment to talk with my neighbors, my husband, my children.  Graduate school was the first time I felt like someone was almost ordering me to focus on something other than my family.  I didn't appreciate that.  I didn't listen, but in certain ways I still needed to comply.  I feel like I am almost to the point of getting my life back.

Despite the constant movement and change I feel like I am finally starting to catch my breath.  I feel like I am moving with the current instead of against it.  My head is above the water and the air is sweet once again.

Here I Go Again....

I really thought I would post on this blog at least once a week....  Nope.  Couldn't keep up.  I am posting now to remind myself to do this (as well as own up to the fact that keeping promises to myself is difficult).  Not in the mood to make excuses today; just admitting to the fact that my follow through is terrible.

A cup of cold water

My husband is much more generous than I.  I need to take more opportunities to learn from him.

After Easter service and chatting with our friends (and a fellow we'll call Bill who goes to our church, who looks a little....  Hmmmm.....  Not so well off), Derek informed me I should go get the kids while he took Bill to the car so we could give him a ride.

"WHAT?!?!"  I thought.  "We are going to take a man we do not know, in our car, WITH OUR CHILDREN, someplace?"

  I took a breath.  It's Easter.  I have seen this man week after week at church.  He is not a new face, but I don't know him.  What will our children think of this man in a purple suit with the matching hat and wild hair? 

I was concerned about safety.  I was concerned about time.  Although, in reality, I was concerned about myself.  I needed to remind myself I see this man nearly every week and am grateful the church welcomes him as he is every week.  No expectations.  No questions asked.  Why can't I? 

I picked up the children from their Sunday School rooms.  I explained we would be giving Bill a ride.  I climbed into the car and squeezed between the boys carseats.  Bill told stories about the history of Ohio.  The boys talked about his "fancy" purple hat.  Erick and Blake both shared some candy they had gotten in their class.  We had plenty of time for our egg hunt and Easter baskets before heading out for a larger family lunch.  Everything was fine.  Why did I worry so?  Derek had seen Bill when he had started college and knew Bill had been homeless at least at one point; perhaps he still is. 

Derek reminded me to give when we can.  My selfishness often gets in the way of this.  It was only a ride.  I need to remember to offer a cup of water to those in need. How many times am I actually drinking that cup of water anyway? 

Easy Open

Easy Open....  REALLY?!!!!

I wanted some goat cheese.  So the plastic packages that peel apart at the corner are supposed to be "easy open?"  There are some requirements:

First, good eyesight.  (I don't have this.  Uphill battle already.)

Second, fingernails.  (Currently, I have short ones to peel apart the two layers.)

Third,  teeth.  (So you can hold one corner of plastic in your teeth while you strategically pull the other corner with one finger and grasp the package with your other hand).

Fourth, t-shirt.  (Because you need to wipe the spit off the package after holding it in your teeth while you again try to pull both sides apart with your hands.)

Fifth, a knife.  (I should have started with this.)

All this for goat cheese.  Ten minutes later I don't think I was even hungry for it.  Next time I think a square of Kraft singles will have to do, folks. 

Suffering with God

I had a moment the other day.  A public moment.  Part of me felt humiliated.  Part of me felt like the rest of the world (or 22 people) needed to hear it.  In all honesty.

We were in our Sunday school class talking about suffering.  Why do Christians suffer?  What do we do about it?  How do we pray about it?

I listened to some answers about how we can pray for wisdom.  We can pray for peace.  We can pray to listen.  And here's what I said:  "When we were struggling with infertility all I could do was ask God 'Why?'  I didn't understand any of what was going on.  I just needed to be angry and come to Him.  And I think He wants me to do that. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change anything or give my boys back.  Feeling like I can be honest enough and trust Him enough to go to Him with tears and anger....."

I broke down if front of friends and felt somewhat like a fool.

I'm not even sure if my infertility was suffering or an answer to prayer about allowing us to adopt.  It still was terrible at the time, because I wanted to be a mom, NOW.  That was my plan.  

There are only so many people in our lives we can trust to yell at them and know that person will still be there.  I'm glad God is one of them.  I know I am not immune to suffering.  Trials will come again.  I will be able to yell and cry and let all my raw emotions bleed in front of Him.  God will be there through it all, and He will hold me in His arms.  May my hope always rest in Him, no matter the suffering I may need to endure.

I don't wanna grow up

It was late enough at night, and I went to check on the boys because there was still some quiet murmuring from their room.  When I arrived, it turns out there were quiet tears from Erick.

"I don't want to grow up, Mommy.  I want to stay five," he said.

"Honey, where is this coming from?  Why are you so upset?"

"We are practicing for graduation, and we sing about being so small and so strong,"  he sobbed.  "I wanna stay five forever!"

There is a pause.  I am not sure what to say.

Erick continues, tearfully, "The kindergartners just stay in a little room, all day.  I don't wanna get older.  Then I have to go to kindergarten.  And then big school.  And then college!"  Deep sob and breath, "And I don't even know what college is!"

I suppressed my laughter at this point, despite the obvious severity of the the tragic realization of aging in my son's life.

"Oh, Erick.  It will be okay.  College is where mommy goes now.  There are so many things to look forward to as you get older.  But you do not need to get old too quickly.  Let's take it one step at a time.  Just remember to be a kid for a while."

"Mommy, I don't want to leave.  I just want to stay here with you and Daddy."

Hmmmmmm, we hadn't really planned on that.  You five and us maybe seventy-five--not exactly ideal.  Life would not be what you expected.  "Erick, our mommies and daddies let us go to college, and then we met each other.  And then we got married.  Now we have you and your brother.  We wouldn't have you if we didn't go to college.  These are the things you can look forward to.  It will be okay."

Two days later.......

Erick is talking about kindergarten.

"So, Erick, you're okay with going to kindergarten?"  I asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay.  I can go to college, too,"  he replied.

"Good,"  I thought, "but you don't even know what college is."

Victories (with exclamation points!!!)

I did it!!!  I received my results for my licensing exam on Tuesday, and I passed!!!  Two parts of one homework assignment, completing my non-thesis and completing my placements are all that is left!  I thought the second round of graduate school would never come to an end.  I can't wait to spend more time with my family again!  August cannot come soon enough!

The truth about blogging....

When I started this blog I thought my life would appear as interesting as others' lives on blogs I read.  Not even close.  Or maybe it's just how I write.  Or what I choose to write.  Or what I choose not to write.  The fact is, just writing stuff and having it show up online does not make it interesting.  (For the very few who have viewed this site, please do not feel the need leave an insulting comment after this post).

The other fact is, I have a hard time putting a lot of things out there.  Perhaps somethings in my life are more interesting, but I am not ready to let the whole world know the intimacies of my thoughts and experiences.  Nor have I found a way to protect the privacy of others' lives who connect with mine to write about how their lives affect my thoughts and actions.

I feel like I have a lot of good, memorable thoughts throughout the day.  But I don't always have a computer.  The thought fades before completion.  Then, by the time I get to the computer the thoughts and events seem so contrived that I feel like they are no longer mine.  I could try and make moment into a post, but the point is to have a record for others to look back on this and see me, not some made-up attempts at wisdom and insight and entertainment.

Regardless of intentions, I am still figuring all this out.  But I am going to keep trying this on for size until I know what fits.  Because, as I said, someday this will all be important.  Maybe.  To someone.  Even if just for me.

Coffee thought

Since I am on spring break and my boys are at school, I get a little time to do things at my own pace.  So I get to take my time drinking coffee today.  This means I can have a cookie with my coffee without my boys knowing (because we are not allowed to have cookies for breakfast).  I also have a big, fat pile of whipped cream on top of my coffee.  (I must say the whipped cream topping the coffee is WAY better than the white snow topping the ground on the first day of April in Ohio.)  Then to make my coffee even more of a special treat there are fresh chocolate shavings on top.  Even if it is only a grated Hershey bar, it's pretty gourmet for home.

This led me to think:  You know how at restaurants the servers always come around and offer fresh ground black pepper or freshly grated Parmesan cheese for your food?  Everyone knows the server could ask when your order was taken if you would want this added.  They could bring a pepper mill or a side of cheese, but there is a reason they do this at the table for you.  I don't know exactly what it is, but it makes me feel a little special.  So, I think someone should come around and offer freshly shaved chocolate for coffee.  Wouldn't you agree that would be a nice addition to the day?  Yea, I could order coffee like in the picture, where the chocolate shavings or caramel swirl already comes on the coffee, but to have chocolate shaved onto the whipped cream or coffee right in front of me....  In just the right amount for my taste and need for chocolate in the day....  Mmmm...

In the meantime, I will keep a little chocolate handy to brighten my coffee any day on my terms.  But I'm just sayin', someone should really consider this idea.

Looking out for Mom

Erick is by far my sensitive one.  He is a people pleaser, too.  And he looks out for me.

The poor little fella was sick this week, and I probably gave it to him.  The good ol' 24 hour stomach flu.  He was miserable.  He does not like to throw up--but most people don't.  I wasn't worried about getting sick, since I already had it, but Erick doesn't understand how the whole viral thing works yet.

As I got close to give him a kiss and make sure he was okay as he lay uncomfortably snuggled under a blanket on the couch, he simply cried and said, "Mommy, I don't want you close to me."

I was crushed for a moment.  My poor, sick son didn't want his mom.  "Why not, honey.  What's wrong?"

"I just don't want you to get my cold."

Thanks for looking out for me, Erick, but you should know--even if I hadn't been sick already--wild horses can't keep mommy away from her sick child.  Let the world off your shoulders, babe.  Mommy will be okay.  Let me help you be okay, too.

Favorite Things

Erick and Blake were sitting at the table chatting while Erick worked on a puzzle.  Erick so enjoys putting things together.

"I love puzzles.  Puzzles and Legos,"  Erick commented.

"I like puzzles,"  Blake answered.  Then thought a couple seconds.  "Puzzles and shows and snack and movies...."  (Yes, shows and movies are two separate things in this house.)

"You like books, too, Blake," I chimed in.  Not that he doesn't know what he likes, but I wanted to make life seem more than just shows and movies and food--generally while watching something.

"Oh, yeah.  And books.  (long pause)  And sleep.  I love sleep."

I laughed, because his list is so true.  And now I also know why Blake does not decide anything else on his own about daily activities and allows his brother to choose.  Because as long as it does not mess with his shows or food he really doesn't care.

Expectations

Life for people I know has dished out terrible situations.  Imagine the worst--or at least close to the worst--and it seems as it has happened to people I know.  Some closer than others, but regardless, my heart aches for each one.

Life is not dealing the hand to others that I expected.  Not just because it is not what would be happiest, but sometimes the thought of this much pain to so many good people....  What I see happening to others is devastating.  Others' parents with serious illness.  Friends with enormous loss.  Family with uncertain decisions.  Sometimes the weight of the world appears to be on their shoulders.

I cannot seem to carry any burden for them.  As much as I may offer to help with the baggage, I feel I can never truly lighten their load.  My waiting for that which is uncertain in my life is nothing compared to what other are experiencing.  I honestly feel like life just isn't fair.  Life often never seems to be.  Never seems to be what we imagined it would be or fair.

I don't know what I was expecting--but I know this wasn't it.

Me time

So, a night alone.  I mean TRULY alone.  No boys (big or little), no responsibility.  I get to watch NCAA basketball tournaments with no one yelling at the television (and I get to make my own comments to the television that relate to the success of my choices for the bracket.  Which, by the way, who would have ever picked a 12 and 13 seed to advance as the next match up in Round 2?  NO ONE picks that!!! I digress....)

So, I had a chance to go shopping.  I hate shopping. I  stopped into three stores within 20 minutes.  I did buy a wine glass, though, because I hate to drink wine out of cheap, wrapped up water glasses in a hotel. I did inform Derek of my purchase, and he told me to purchase enough glasses for a set of four since the glasses are only $4.  Now I need to shop again.  Not as bad if there is a purpose.

So, I had a random thought while I was out and about.  Well, actually I had a few.

I went to pick up dinner to take back to the hotel.  (I really do not care for sitting at a table by myself to eat.) As I was waiting for my food I looked out at the sunny, relatively warm patio of the restaurant.  It was after 6 o'clock, so the evening was permitting cooler air to settle in, but people obviously sat on the patio earlier when the sun brought more warmth.  The martini and wine glasses remained on a table of those who had dined earlier.  This made me wonder, "What do people think when they see Derek and I together at a table?"  So many times I look across the table at him.  I don't think about what others see.  (If people came into our house, they would not always see a pretty picture, let me tell you.  But that's marriage--not always pretty.)  I wonder if people see a couple who looks like they enjoy being together or simply are going out to dinner.  What do we look like to others?  How do I make people look at us and want to be 'that couple?'  Kind of like our wedding day, when people felt we were a couple who belonged together and reflected how love should be.

My thought wandered to how beautiful the weather was for Ohio, and I thought how nice it would be to take a walk with my husband and kids.  I miss them, but it is refreshing to have some time to myself.  I have only left my husband and my boys once in the past four years for an overnight.  I don't travel well, but sometimes it may be necessary.

Now I get to enjoy the random text from my sister and brother-in-law and phone call from my husband and boys.  I enjoy hearing them.  I enjoy the time for myself.  I enjoy the break from the ordinary and the chores.  I need to be refreshed once and a while.  But I look forward to returning home.

Head's up

Not that it really matters....

Yesterday was not a great day.  I received some awful news.  I laid on the couch with my face still an unattractive splotchy red from crying.  The cat hopped onto the couch and laid down beside me with his head toward mine and his behind toward my feet.  He curled up and purred.  He let me pet him and didn't move.  Even after I slept for hours.

So what?  Usually when the cat lays beside me I get his butt in my face as he watches TV.  It's nice to know even on the worst of days some dumb animal just knows to be there and give me the best even he has to offer.

Thanks, Pennzoil, for keeping your head up for me.

Rings

Snow day number two for my boys.  They played outside for two hours on the enormous piles of snow that accumulated by our driveway.  By the time they came inside two hours later they looked like snowballs.  The joys of fresh, white snow for small children.  (Not such a joy for me and my husband having shoveled the driveway three times before 10 a.m.)  For me, today was more a gift of an unexpected "stay home" day.  I was supposed to have school today and so were my boys--but none of that!  The idea of a foot of snow is bound to slow anyone down!

The sheer joy of the day came in the afternoon.  I was studying for my clinical competency exam and decided to take a break.  I was looking at my rings.  My engagement ring.  The excitement of knowing Derek wanted to spend his life with me.  My wedding band.  The promise Derek would commit his life to me, and I would commit mine to his.  And an anniversary ring.  Ten years.  The ring that began as such a surprise at our five-year anniversary and grew at our ten-year anniversary.  Diamonds that are carried on my fingers as a daily reminder of someone who loves me and cherishes me.  As I admired and reflected while looking at these rings my boys laughed out loud at a movie in another room. 

And then I immediately posted this.  Because I do not want to take for granted the laughter and love that abounds in our home.

Just a reminder life is good.  I love my life filled with boys big and small.  I love the laughter.  I love the happiness.  I love the joy.

And it all began with a ring.  Sometimes I think the rings are only about Derek and me.  That two were simply the commitment of us.  But these two rings were the beginning of a family only God could unfold.  The story would have never been told without the gift of the first ring.  The journey is remembered fondly with the others.

I can't imagine my life without these boys God has blessed me with so abundantly.

Not Cool

I am not cool.  I never have been.  I think I am past the point where I will ever be able to be cool.  Let me give you a list of reasons why I do not fall into the "cool" category (maybe some of it is just my perspective, but I don't think so):

I still have (and use VHS tapes), and still "tape" shows on occasion because I do not have a DVR.

I don't have cable.

I have an iPod, but only to store my CDs on it.  I have never purchased any music from iTunes.

I could not name a single member of the Pussy Cat Dolls, the Spice Girls or the Backstreet Boys if it were for a million dollars.  The fact I still reference these groups should be an indication that I could not get a million dollars to name a more current group.

I don't keep up with the Kardashians.  I don't know why anyone would anyway.  Maybe I am cool for saying no to that one.

I am not on Facebook.  I'm not sure they would want me.

I do not have a Smart Phone.  I don't text.  My phone takes pictures.  I have had my phone a year and a half and it only has ten pictures on it.  Phones are for calling people.  I think only five people have my cell phone number to call me.  No wonder I never have plans on Saturday evening....  Oh wait, that's kids and marriage, not my phone.

I am wearing clothes I had ten years ago.  I don't know what the current trend is.  I count on my sister to buy me one or two things each year to make sure I do not miss entire decades of fashion.  The clothes she buys me are the times I get compliments about how I look.

My husband is not cool either.  He references himself as the "cool nerd" in high school.  Complete oxymoron if I have ever heard one.

Really, the list is endless.  Don't get me wrong, some of my lack off coolness may now be classified in my mind as lack of interest or to others as being cheap.  Whatever.  I'll deal with it. 

Here is my problem with not being cool.  What happens to my kids?  Right now, kids don't care.  They are three and five and still in preschool.  But right now my kids are not off to a good start for cool experiences.  They have not been to Disney World.  They do not have 'DS.'  They rarely play on the computer.  They have had one to many experiences watching movies that include my old VHS tapes and whether or not the movies from the library will work.

I hope I am not destroying my kids shot at coolness.  They are happy for now.  What happens when they realize anyone can have cable and we don't?  Maybe my kids will make me cool.  Or cool enough to get them by.  Or at least distract people enough that they don't notice I'm not.  May my children prevail over my shortcomings.

Moratorium defined

The boys love to talk about and go the the Natatorium here in town, but we have not been able to go because Blake's stitches have not been out for a week.  However, they still were chatting about it today. 

"Natatorium" is a tough word to say for a three-year-old, though, so Blake was calling it the "Matatorium."  Pretty close, but Erick felt the need to correct him anyway (because Erick is perfect and articulates everything without error), "No, Blake, it's NATatorium, not MATatorium." 

I reminded Erick he used to call it the "Moratorium,"which he laughed at the idea of the word.

Blake asked Erick what "moratorium" meant. 

Erick replied, "There are more people there.  And more and more and more people.  And that's why it's called a MORatorium." 

Almost.  I didn't feel the need to tell them what a moratorium really is. 

What's crooked?

Blake always seems to have a unique take on life.  I seldom feel he views the world the same way the rest of the family does.  Some days I wonder if he has absorbed anything around him with even the tiniest perspective of others.

Today he let me know that, yes, he does pick up on some of it.  He has already begun to take note of the sarcasm that flows from me like breath.

Erick's glasses were so incredibly crooked today.  I fussed with them for several minutes and then finally commented to Erick, "Maybe your face is on crooked."

Blake quickly shot back at me, "Maybe your face."

I couldn't disagree with him. 

Ahhh, the joy of the sarcastic comment.  Way to keep up with the inappropriateness of the family, buddy. 

Let's keep it real: Motherhood

I have a general rule of thumb about purchases:  If the person is smiling on the package, don't buy it.  It's a lie.

Example:  Textured ceiling paint.  It is not easy, should not be done in a button-down shirt and dress pants, and will not come out with a professional look.
Example two:  Tilt in windows.  No one smiles when cleaning windows. Come on,, people.  My windows were so dirty I ruined my clothes when I was cleaning.  I was pretty mad.  And then it rained, and then I had to clean the windows again.  I am happier closing the curtains.
Example three:  Any parenting magazine.  If the adult is smiling, it is probably the nanny or babysitter, because that person is paid to smile.  Parents do not smile when there is spaghetti all over the floor and play-doh smashed into carpet.

Don't get me wrong.  I love being a mom.  I would rather be at home stepping on toys and pulling a muscle fishing a toy out from behind the couch than not, but this is not "smile on my face, everyone jump on the bandwagon, you should try this easy-as-pie-done-in-an-hour kind of job with a gourmet meal and make-up on feel sexy and wonderful at the end of the day" deal.  And let's all be honest about it.

I know GREAT moms.  They will tell you they are not, but they are.  But the fact of the matter is, ALL moms have rough days.  I don't know that I am great (I am certain you would not see me smiling on the package of "Motherhood").  Today was not especially rough, either, but it was still an emotional challenge.  Two minutes after Blake 'put on his listening ears,' he informed me that 'these listening ears turn off really fast.'

Yup.  (Cue, "If I need to say this one more time......")

It was just one of those days where, as a mom, I just feel like I am never going to get it right.  At 2:30 there were still dishes from breakfast on the counter, and I felt like I had not done anything remotely involved with my children.  We had taken a bath, packed lunches for the next day and picked out outfits for school, so it was productive, but like my kids care about productive.  Reading for the day was related to homework for preschool, and I could not understand why Erick wanted to memorize a book rather than learn the words.  "READ, look at words!  Reading is for eyes, not for ears!"

I was in the home with my boys, but boy, I was not mothering.

"I am terrible at this.  And someone said I was fit to be a mother," was all I could think. I get tired of yelling.  I get tired of repeating myself.  I get tired of cleaning up toys.  I get tired of being excited about superheros falling in dramatic style.  I get tired of being interrupted going to the bathroom.  I get tired.  I get tired of wondering if this is how it is supposed to be.  I get tired of wondering what I should do different or better or not at all.

But this is who I am.  This is who they are.  This is the struggle of motherhood.

I told my boys I am sorry today.  Not for putting them in timeout, but for telling them I don't always do what is right, either.  I told them I get frustrated.  I told them I love them.  I gave myself a "hugging timeout" with them today.  I need that some days.  I just need to hug them and tell them the good things about them and soak them in.

I watched my boys play in the snow.  They rolled down a snow drift and looked to the sky and let snowflakes tickle their eyes.  They laughed.  They ran.  They played.  Freely.  I don't know how to be a great mom, but they know how to be GREAT at being kids.  I guess as long as they know that, it's okay.  I need to let that be okay too.

If I need to sell a new mom on motherhood, I won't smile on the package, because some days it is hard.   (Okay, all of them).  It is still worth it.  And it does bring a smile to my face.  But, man, do I screw it up.  Let's be honest, I think we all do at some point.  As parents, we need to all keep it real that way.  I don't mean drown in our faults, but at least let each other know it will be okay.  Parenthood brings new meaning to "no one is perfect."  We need to stop fooling ourselves and give everyone a break.

If anyone packages "childhood" with a smile on it, though, that one will be worth buying.  God, let me never forget that.

Crack

We have had a mixture of cold weather, warmer weather, ice, rain and snow here.  Today it is sunny, but still cold enough for the snow to stick around.

Erick informed me, "Mom, the snow is so hard when you step on it crack comes out of it."

I don't think Erick has a good understanding of what crack is.

Head butt

The stitches are not even 24 hours old!!!  Watch out!!!

Erick and Blake bumped heads on the couch today.  Tears followed.

"Not again!"  I thought.

I hugged them both, but really needed the crying to stop so I could assess the situation.

Contest time.

"Let's see who's toughest.  First person to stop crying is the toughest!"

The crying stopped within two seconds and laughter followed.  All better.  I guess it's a tie.

I need to remember that one.

Stitches

It has finally happened.  Almost five years into parenthood, and a trip to the ER for an injury.

Recall how I mentioned my "Superboys" were probably not the best to call on to save the world?  Here's the proof.

The evening began with dinner and making plans for after dinner activities.  Erick wanted to play with a marble race activity, and Blake wanted Thomas.  Finally, a night with no shows as a request!  The evening did not go as planned.

Apparently, two Jedi ships (Erick and Blake) were chasing each other around the Galaxy (our basement) while the commanders of the Universe (parents myself and Derek) were doing dishes and cleaning up dinner.  Galaxian Queen Anne heard a thud and then screaming.  The lead Jedi ship had checked behind him, but forgot to consider the path ahead.  He crashed directly into the pole in front of him.  Screaming followed. 

Erick yelled up the stairs,  "Mom, Blake hit his head on the pole!"

I ran down the steps.  Really, it only looked like a small cut with a tiny bit of blood.  That changed.  Rapidly.  About halfway up the stairs--and only seconds later--Blake's face was covered with blood.  It was streaming down his cheek and chin, but thankfully, staying out of his eyes albeit dripping all over my shirt.  I carried him to the bathroom for a washcloth.  (Of course, I could not grab the new one from Christmas, though). I cleaned him up.  The light blue washcloth was now mostly red.  Derek grabbed a gauze pad and within a few minutes of holding the gauze pad firmly in place the crying and bleeding had stopped.  Blake really is a tough Jedi knight.  During that time two phone calls were made to my girlfriend, and nurse, with no answer--but messages were left---and a call to an after-hours nurse. 

Now the lingering question....Does it need medical attention.  Does it need stitches?  I spent 25 minutes on the phone with the after-hours nurse from the pediatrician's office.  The nurse said as long as the cut did not appear "deep" (which apparently is a relative term as I could not measure it) and the cut was smooth along the edges, then Blake would be okay.  Just wake him up to check for dizziness--two and four hours after he has fallen asleep.  He is the soundest sleeper in the world (and I am a close second).  Oh well, we'll deal with it.

Then my girlfriend called back.  I told her the events of the evening.  She was on her way home from work (after helping deliver 8 babies that day!), but would stop by.  She is a saint.  She checked Blake's head.

"It's deeper than you think.  If you take him to ER, they will stitch it."

Ugh.  Last time I call her.

Okay.

Blake was crying again, but now only because he cannot play with his choo-choo trains and there is no show.  Derek promised to take the computer and Toy Story 3.  Blake was all smiles and ready to go.  Now Erick was crying.  What is going on!!!

Erick cried about how "It's so hard to be brave...This is just terrible!  I wish the boo boo would just go away!"  Me too, buddy.

Erick and I played marbles.  The crying stopped.  Erick called his Grandma and told her the news; I clarified the news.  Derek checked in to say Blake was doing fine and waiting for the numbing medicine to take effect so he could get his stitches.  Blake had asked for an extra medical bracelet to bring home for Erick, and Erick was pleased to hear the news about the bracelet.

Blake was tough.  He Received three stitches just above the hairline and went right to bed when he came home.  He is recovering nicely today and jumping off snowpiles.  The only time he whines about his boo boo is when he needs ointment on it.

He may not be ready to save the world, but he's tough enough to take it on. 

First Snow Day

My boys had their first "snow day" today, but my school only had a delay.  That meant Daddy got to stay home from work with the boys.  Erick woke up, saw me,

"Hi, mommy,"

and proceeded downstairs.  He remained oblivious to the crumpled mess of covers hiding his sleeping father.

A while later I informed Erick I needed to leave for school.  He was still in his pajamas and had not eaten breakfast.  Not to mention I was clearly leaving without him and Blake in the car with me headed to preschool.  Erick remained unaware his preschool was closed and Daddy was home.

He looked at me with a slight amount of panic and said, "But Mommy if you leave we will have to walk all the way to preschool or drive there.  And we don't have a GPS.  How will we get there?"

Somehow or another Erick has become fixated on a GPS getting him anywhere when he thinks he may need to get somewhere alone.  He knows the way to his preschool.  Trust me.  He tells me when I take a different route or if we drive anywhere near the preschool on an off day.  He does not need a GPS.  And why my five-year-old thinks he is taking a car anywhere is beyond me.  He knows he doesn't know how to drive, either; he has told me so.

I told Erick he would need to do his best to find his way.  He of course did not find this answer acceptable.  So I took his hand, led him upstairs to the pile of blankets and helped him find his Dad.  Snow Day, buddy.  It's a "stay at home day" with your Dad. 

Enjoy your first snow day.

Superboys

With two boys, superhero names can be very helpful in many situations for either saving the day, calling out bad attitudes or changing the mood of a situation.  Some recurring names we have in our home are: 

"Naked Boy" (a favorite of Blake after bath, courtesy of his aunt.  Although Naked Boy has been making a strong appearance most days now when Blake should be getting dressed).
"Captain Cranky Pants"  (Used frequently when frowns are observed and general grumpy attitudes).
"Mr. or Captain Crabby Butt"  (Used when there is a general bad attitude we can no longer stand).
ALL superheroes well known to the general population are manifested by my boys when rescuing other toys or saving someone from the wrath of the "tickle monster."
"Mr. Bossy Pants"  (Erick's name for telling us all what to do.  Occasionally, he is referred to as "Dr. Bossy Pants."  Erick wears this name proudly and will claim bossiness as a positive character trait in public.  Life may kick those Bossy Pants abruptly one day.  For now it works for him).

These names have become so famous in our home that tonight while playing with pirates in the bathtub, one of the characters became "Captain Cranky Pants."  I do not believe the character was doing anything remotely cranky.  He truly was saving something.  So there you have it, "Captain Cranky Pants" is now an official, I wanna be him superhero worth including in the realmof save-the-world-imaginative fun.

I can't wait for him to join forces with Dr. Bossy Pants and Naked Boy.

Don't bet the bank that our home is making the world a safer place just yet.

Weekend wonderings: Girls

One reason for this blog was to keep track of things I will most likely forget.  Something came to my mind this week of a moment I want to remember.

It was summer.  Erick was three and the two of us were sitting in the inflatable pool together while Blake napped.  Always the conversationalist, Erick said, "Mommy, let's talk."

"Okay.  What do you want to talk about?"  (He's three, how deep could this be).

"Let's talk about girls."

Gulp.  Smile.  He's three.  Again how deep could this be.  "And what about girls do you want to talk about?"

"Let's talk about the girls at your work, Mommy."

"Okay."  I'm pretty sure I can handle this one.

I still doubt the conversations with my boys about girls will continue to be that open and that easy.  At least he knows he can talk to his mom about girls.

Suck up

Kids of course love anything with a cartoon character on it--including food.  So on a recent trip to the store I gave in and let the boys pick the Sponge Bob yogurt that comes in the squeeze pouch.  Mind you, they are perfectly content to eat regular yogurt from a cup, but "the kids at preschool eat this yogurt."  Today their Dad put out the tubes of yogurt with their lunch.

Erick said, "Look, Blake!  We get to eat a suck up with lunch!"

I don't think they are called "suck ups," but for the rest of lunch the yogurt was a Sponge Bob Suck Up, and we all knew what we were talking about.

Labels

Most of the time words are just words.  Words that really just don't affect us or words that mean so little we simply ignore them.
In my field I hear words like "delay," "disability," "autism," "hearing loss."  The words do not always mean much to us.  And then they go beyond words and become a label for a person.  The word does not define who the person is, but you can see in the face of the person who is hearing this word attached to a child or parent or self that the label is a definition now.  I can watch the person's heart break in his or her eyes because of a word.
I remember when my son got glasses.  It's only glasses.  He was four.  I cried.  I felt like it was too young.  For a few days I let that define him.  My son=glasses.  It's silly--I know.  I've worn glasses for years!
But then something happens.  The label changes back to just a word.  You find the person again.  You see the child or parent or person before you and realize what a beautiful life there is that needs to be lived and help make it the best life possible.
And redefine all the words.

Here we go....

 Before you get to far, I must warn you:

Computers do not like me.  My creation of this blog may create the fall of the internet.

This blog is a huge accomplishment if this even gets posted.  (Celebrate with me if you can relate).


So why a blog?  Well, I started reading a friend's blog and realized what a great way to keep track of all the random happenings of life.  I laughed at so many things that happened in her life and was reminded that there are so many little things in life that can bring a smile and change a day.  So this is my way of reminding myself of the little moments that can become big moments, documenting the craziness of my thoughts (in the hopes of laughing at them again someday), and keeping these thoughts somewhere other than a diary that I would probably lose in the chaos of my life anyway.

Feel free to peek in on my journey of life....