Funny girl

On the way to the doctor with Adelaide, I said, "Please do not toot on the doctor this time." Adelaide: "Or he will not give me a sucker?" Me: "Would you give someone who tooted on you a sucker?" Adelaide: "Yes, if they were behind me."

Overheard during bathtime: Adelaide: "Are you scared of ovarians?" Josie: "Ovarians? You mean barbarians?" Adelaide: "Yes, barbarians. Are you scared of barbarians?" Josie: "No, not really."

Weeble-Kids

Ahh… bedtime. The time of day that every tired mom longs for. The time when she can unwind, drink a cup of tea, put her feet up and catch up on her Dr. Phil episodes. (OK, maybe that last one is just me.)

Honestly, after putting in a 14 hour day “on the job” (or possibly even more if you work outside the home too) every woman deserves an hour or so to herself. Right?

Wrong.

My children will come up with any excuse to put off going to bed. Or maybe I should say staying in bed. They GO willingly enough. They just seem to pop back up after about fifteen minutes. They’re like Weebles. You know, “Weebles wobble but they won’t fall down.” My kids go to bed but they won’t stay down.

Here is a compilation of things that bother them so much that they come and bother me:

I need my Pocahontas doll. No, wait, I need my Dorothy doll. And she needs her dress buttoned. And she needs to take off her shoes.

I need the pink bear. No, not that one. The other pink bear. Or maybe it’s the one that’s upstairs. Will you go get it? (The last thing I want to do is go back upstairs again.)

I need another blanket. Or two more. This one is too fuzzy. That one is not fuzzy enough.

I have to go potty.

It's too hot in here. Could you turn on the fan?

The fan is making too much noise and I am freezing.

I am squished. There are too many pillows on this bed.

I need an extra pillow.

My feet are sticking out! Will you come and cover me up again?

I’m thirsty. Can you fill up my canteen?

This water tastes like clams! (Clams? Really?)

I heard a thump. A thump! Did you hear that thump?

I have to go potty.

I need another kiss. And another hug.

I keep thinking about Gremlins. Why did Daddy let me see those Gremlins? It was a bad idea, Mommy. (I would have to agree on this one.)

We should not have read that story about Medusa.

My hair is tangled. Like snakes. Can you brush it out again?

How many days is it until my birthday?

The wind is howling! Thunder! I hear thunder!

There is a spider on the ceiling. Can you come and squish it?

I needed to tell you that I love you. (How can I get mad about that one?)

I’m hungry. I could really use a banana right about now.

There are crumbs on my sheets. I have no idea how they got there.

I think I have a bug bite. Look at this red dot.

I have to go potty.

I need the itch-stick. I need a band-aid!

I have a hangnail. I need the clippers.

My head hurts. My tummy hurts. I need an ice pack. I need medicine.

Josie won’t stop talking and so I can’t fall asleep!

I had a bad dream. (You haven’t been asleep yet!)

I’m scared. It’s too dark in here. Can I have a flashlight?

I have to go potty.

from my 1/29/12 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Stairs and Consequences

"Hey, my little children..." said Mom.
"Hey, our big mama!" said Sadie.

Since I have decided to become a hardcore, somewhat mean mother, I have completely revamped my parenting philosophy. No more counting to three. No more asking the same question four times. Ask it, expect it, get a response (either "yes Mom," "yes Ma'am," or "Okay, Mom" and GIVE A CONSEQUENCE if it doesn't happen.

I think it's working for us. Yesterday I overheard Sadie telling her friend Bella that "We cannot do that. No way, we already had three consequences this week and we do NOT want another one!"

In other news, Jedidiah fell down the stairs (four or five of them) last night and bumped his little head. One of the girls forgot to put the gate back up. I hate that stupid tension gate. We need another swing/hinged gate (ours got thrown out after the flood) but they cost $60. Of course, what's $60 compared to Jed falling down the stairs....? I need to find some money.

Also, he makes the funniest, cutest little sounds! "GoogieGoogieGoogie" and "GogiGogiGogiGogi," "tick-a-tick-ULLL-tickaticka!" and some other little squeakly sounds that I can't even explain. His vocalizations are amazing... maybe he'll go to work for the UN someday. Or the circus.

Job Description

TITLE: Mommy (also Mom, Mama and “But, MO-OOM!”)

JOB DESCRIPTION:

Team player needed for a challenging position in a chaotic working environment.

Duration of the position: forever. Successful candidate will maximize learning potential of all subordinates and supply general coziness to the workspace. Candidate will possess excellent communication skills and must be able to “count to 3.”

Must be willing to work ridiculous hours and be on call 24/7. Overnight travel is also required and will include trips to small guest rooms of varying relatives, gross port-a-potties and desolate muddy campsites.

The successful candidate will provide transportation and entertainment along with medical, technical and emotional support to all subordinates and is responsible for repeated follow-up.

There will be a strong focus on equipment and supplies needed to run a Food Service operation. This job requires management skills and a tremendous need for patience. Responsibilities also include laundry, maintenance and janitorial work (including disposal of poop and throw-up.)

Candidate must possess catlike reflexes in case someone falls off the bathroom counter. Candidate must also have the strength of a pack mule and be able to carry a baby, two bags of groceries, a purse and a diaper bag all in one hand.

TYPICAL DUTIES and RESPONSIBILITIES:

This description is not intended to be an exhaustive (and exhausting) list of all that may be required.

SOCIAL:

1. Outgoing calls to doctors, dentists, tutors, playmates, cousins and grandparents

2. Initiating, following up and/or attending (when required) appointments, recitals, birthday parties, “shows,” fishing trips, teacher conferences, family reunions, field trips, playdates, vacations, summer camps, sleepovers, swimming lessons, dance lessons, music lessons and Sunday School

3. Candidate must be willing to be hated occasionally

ADMINISTRATIVE:

4. Efficient data entry including school and medical records, baby book and scrapbook entries, letters to pen-pals, Santa and the Tooth Fairy

5. Preparing estimates (for groceries, Christmas lists, orthodontist bills and birthday presents)

6. Internet research: educational toys, safety recalls, G-rated movies, craft ideas, free family events and the closest garage sales. Also needs ability to navigate PBSkids.org

OTHER DESIRED ASSETS:

7. Awareness of organic foods, phosphate-free dishwasher liquid, all-natural shampoos and Xylitol tooth gel

8. Familiarity with Fair Trade principles (e.g., “I will give my little sister a cracker if she’ll give me all of her Halloween candy” = NOT a Fair Trade)

9. The candidate must be willing to alternate between being loved desperately one minute and deemed an embarrassment the next

PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE:

No previous experience is required, but on-the-job training is offered on a continual basis, whether the candidate wants it or not.

KNOWLEDGE and SKILLS REQUIRED:

1. Excellent interpersonal communication skills, especially at eye level and while in public at the grocery store or while singing lullabies

2. Strong problem solving skills and sound judgment (may be compromised because of job-related sleep-deprivation)

3. Strong attention to detail (e.g., “Does everyone have on underwear?”)

4. Excellent multi-tasking and organizational skills with the ability to set priorities and meet deadlines (e.g., feed the baby, make breakfast, make beds, wipe juice off the floor, get everyone dressed, put lunch in the crockpot, find 4 coats and 8 mittens, tie 6 shoes, let the dog out and change a load of laundry all before leaving for an 8am doctor appointment)

5. Ability to work with a team (e.g., handing out brooms and dust-rags before cranking up Annie’s “It’s the Hard-Knock Life”) for cleaning day

BENEFITS:

No salary. No insurance. No pension. No paid overtime. No paid holidays. No time off.

No opportunities for advancement. Candidate will be expected to fill the same position forever without resigning. Candidate assumes complete accountability for the quality of the end product and is responsible for maintaining a thorough file of “Mommy-guilt” throughout all eternity.

Unlimited smiles, hugs, snuggles and kisses for life. Successful candidate has immediate tenure and can never be replaced.

-from my 1/22/12 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Anysling

I've been thinking recently about all of the cute stuff that Josie used to say when she was Adelaide's age. She's almost to the point where she doesn't say those hilarious things anymore, and it makes me sad! Some of my favorites were her "crunchy" blanket. No one knows why she called it her crunchy one, but it was pink and fuzzy and had a little red princess in one corner. She STILL cries about losing it, and she still calls "him" her "Crunch" or her "Crunchy."

Anysling. Like, "I don't want to do ANYSLING!" or "I did NOT do ANYSLING to her!"

And my very favorite, Jesus' earthly parents, Mary and Jophus.

Gotta love that kid.

My little sunshines

Mom: "Good morning, my little sunshines."
Josie: "I am not sunshine. I am moonshine."

While playing "2 Truths and a Lie" at dinner, after everyone had a turn, Adelaide said, "And now, now I will do Grammie's. Today, today, Grammie stuck her fingers in her nose. And today, Grammie said, 'horsh horsh horsh all the way home.' And today, Grammie went poop on the TOILET."

Mom: "On top of spa-GHETTI, all covered with CHEESE, I lost my poor MEATball..."
Josie: "Don't sing that song. It makes me sad."

Adelaide, handing me her fortune cookie: "Here, Mom. Can you get the directions out?"

Mom: "Well, if you must."
Josie: "I must."

Boys will be... troublemakers

Before Jedidiah was born 13 months ago, I used to see little boys running around at the speed of light, climbing furniture like chimpanzees and banging on things for no reason.

I used to see them fighting, yelling and jumping and I would roll my eyes when their moms would inform me, “Oh, he’s just being a boy. Boys will be boys, you know.”

“Yeah, right!” I would think to myself. “If I ever have a boy, he will never act like that! I never even had to baby-proof the house with any of my girls!”

Alas, the irony of my own predictions has struck yet again.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my baby boy. He means the world to me! But here is a sampling of what he’s doing to drive me nuts (so far):

He wakes up before anyone else and proceeds to smack the bluebird music box on the side of his crib with the palm of his hand - BANG! Bang BANG! Bang! - over and over until I come in to get him. He grins up at me with his little moon-shaped face and big blue eyes, all cute and unassuming.

He is thrilled to have a new day! He is thrilled to be alive! He pulls on the crib rails and stands up on wobbly legs to reach for me. Only then do I see that he has somehow yanked off his pants, his socks and lost his diaper. He is thrilled to be naked!

I love mornings with him before everyone else is awake. Even though he's wiggly, I can usually buy some butt-wiping time by handing him the little cat figurine from the shelf above the changing table (if his hands are free, he feels compelled to stick them in poop.)

When we snuggle together in the rocking chair, I love the way he nuzzles his little fuzzy head down between my neck and my shoulder...we cuddle under his cozy blue and yellow ducky blanket and nurse and rock and usually I sing him a song or two. He smiles and coos at me then reaches up to poke one finger in my eye and the other up my nose.

And this is the calm before the storm.

He's VERY impatient for his breakfast, so as soon as he is done, he slides down my legs into the floor and he is gone. If I happen to look away for two seconds, then I’ll be all over the house looking for him, calling out “Jed! Jeddy!” as if he's going to say, “Hey Mom! In here!”

Over the next several hours (until the arrival of glorious naptime), I may find him enjoying one of his favorite pastimes:

Making Cheerio soup by mixing his cereal with the water in his sippy cup

Sneaking dog food out of the bowl and cramming it into his mouth

Crawling up the stairs, full-steam ahead, laughing and looking back over his shoulder

Sticking his hand in the toilet and swirling it all around

Throwing food all over the floor and rubbing the leftovers into his hair

Opening cabinets to pull everything out and dump it on the floor

Hammering any object he can find with his little wooden hammer (including glass doors)

Opening the kitchen trash can so he can rummage around in it then get his fingers stuck when the lid closes

Pulling books, CDs, movies and anything else on a shelf off the shelf

Turning on the bathtub faucet so he can splash water everywhere

Tearing up his sisters’ artwork, craft projects, dollhouse, Polly Pockets, ponies, dress-up clothes – you name it

Climbing up on the bathtub, the bed, the chairs, the play kitchen counter – anywhere he can gain a foothold

Getting stuck under the table, the kitchen chairs, the desk, the coffee table – anywhere he will fit

I know that these are not terrible things; sometimes they may even be deemed cute things. They are not, however, things that I’ve ever had to deal with before. It’s exhausting!

I guess it’s a good thing he’s my youngest, though; if I’d had him first, I would’ve probably been way too tired to have any other kids.

Much to my dismay (and former disbelief), apparently boys WILL be boys.

--from my 1/15/12 article for www.mentorpatch.com

I Resolve...

Ahh. A new year. A fresh start. A re-do.

Yep, it’s the one time of the year we can all take a “Life Mulligan.”

Honestly, I am not always the mom, wife, daughter, friend or teacher that I want to be. I’m thankful for do-overs.

I know that I’ll never be perfect, but I do love a fresh start.

Here at our house, the tree has been taken down, the gifts de-boxed, the lights wound up and stored away. The halls have been un-decked. We vacuumed up a million pine needles (along with three pieces of Frankenberry cereal from Halloween that were under Adelaide’s bed.)

Out with the old and in with the new, right?

I’ve always heard that goal setting works, so this year I’m going to try it for myself. I’m making it public so I can be held accountable. Here are some of my goals for 2012:

Read lots of good books. I’ve been spending way too much time playing Words with Friends and Bejeweled Blitz. I’m squandering my reading time. However, I have learned all three of the three-letter words that begin with “q.”

Be better at time management. It seems like I waste a lot of time on things that don’t really matter. Things like walking back and forth through the house, forgetting what I came into a room for and wandering back out again. Things like watching “Say Yes to the Dress,” worrying over things that are out of my control, folding pajamas, checking email and playing Words with Friends. I need to use my time wisely.

Be more optimistic. I am a born pessimist. I catch myself sounding like Eeyore the donkey from Winnie-the-Pooh a lot. "It's snowing still," said Eeyore gloomily. "And freezing. However, we haven't had an earthquake lately." This sounds exactly like me! Being a pessimist is not something I enjoy. I want to be one of those bright, happy, sunny people! How do you change your disposition? I’m not sure, but I want to try.

Be healthier. I want to eat better, cook smarter, exercise more and generally take better care of myself than I have in the past. Hindsight is 20/20, and I don’t want to still be trying to lose these same old extra thirty pounds next year!

Get up earlier. This is a problem for me. I need to get up at 7am every day. I know I would get so much more done if I got started early (before the kids “get started!”) Unfortunately, as my favorite cartoon character, Brak the Spacecat, says, “Oh, man, I love sleepin’! Wish I could wake up so I could go back to sleep again!” This would also entail going to bed earlier – also a problem, thanks to my night-owl husband (and Words with Friends.)

Trust my instincts more. I tend to second-guess myself (pessimistically) and worry over what other moms (especially homeschoolers) are doing, if my kids are learning enough, if I’m teaching them well enough...you know, if I’m screwing them up or not. Instead, I want to believe in my God-given ability to parent and teach my children what they need to know.

Micromanage less. I have some real issues with micromanaging my kids (especially my oldest.) This year, I want to let go and let them make their own mistakes…and probably find that they won’t make as many mistakes as I thought they would.

Relax more with my kids and my husband. I need to focus more on instigating date nights, planning “Special Mommy Time” with each of my children and having Family Fun Nights when we’re all together… times that really matter.

Work on a family project. I don’t really know what this should be yet, but I do know that I want us to do something worthwhile together. Something that helps someone. Something that makes a difference.

What are your goals for 2012? I’d love to know your tips and tricks for reaching them (especially if you’re planning on turning yourself into an optimist this year…I need all the help I can get!)

from my 1/8/12 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Dads do the Driving

Dads need to drive, not just because they are control freaks on the road, but because they just can’t do everything else properly (like moms do.)

Take, for example, our recent trip home from Christmas in North Carolina: nine hours in a minivan with a one-year-old, a three- year-old, a six-year-old, a seven-year-old and a LOT of presents.

We attempted something we usually try to avoid: driving during the day when the kids are awake.

I would’ve saved myself a lot of frustration and yelling if I had just squeezed my butt in the back between the booster seats from the very beginning. Unfortunately, though, I gained ten pounds over Christmas and my butt wasn’t squeezing in anywhere.

So we started off with Dad in the driver’s seat (where he belongs) and me in the passenger seat, surrounded by toys, drinks with ill-fitting lids, candy wrappers, books, coats, pillows and who knows what else. Dad paid no attention to the kids. His eyes were on the road. He was focused. He was a driving machine.

Of course, we hadn’t made it out of the driveway yet.

Less than 20 minutes into the trip, the children ended up “needing things,” as children often do. Things like having their dolls’ hair untangled, their pencils sharpened, their hands “unstickied,” their Etch-a-Sketches repaired, extra straws for their juice boxes, the radio turned up, the radio turned down, the radio turned off, the heat turned on, the heat turned off, the crackers picked up off the floor, a blanket, a fan, a mint, some gum…. I, of course, ended up in a weird sideways half-sitting, half-reaching behind me position.

After an hour or so, my leg cramped up and I had to stick my feet up on the dash. Dad, oblivious to his needy children, changed lanes and pretended that he was a NASCAR driver.

Once I managed to contort myself into a torture position with my head twisted around at an unnatural angle, I proceeded to fill the enviable role of Entertainer Extraordinaire!

I can only read so many stories and play so many games of I Spy. Let’s face it: when you're in the car, the answer for something green is always grass. My Activity Bag contains a finite amount of activities. A movie on a laptop would come in handy, but unfortunately I’m against them (if I suffered through a childhood of boring car rides, my kids can too.)

“Okay! Who wants to play Stare Out the Window with Your Mouth Closed? Anyone?”

Snacks help too, but I’ve found that the best thing to do is suggest that they snuggle in with their “car pillow” and rest their eyes for a few minutes. Since they’ve been bored out of their gourds for the past 100 miles, they usually fall for it. It seems to work better than the version Dad uses when he’s not driving, which is “SHUT IT AND GO TO SLEEP!”

Dads hate stopping to rest, stretch legs, change diapers, eat, or pee. Moms know that the two keys to ensuring a pleasant trip are dry butts and pacing yourself. No one wants to sit in a wet diaper or be stuffed into a car seat for hours on end. But you can forget about stopping by museums, historical sites or tourist traps with Dads. Dads are on a schedule. Dads need to “beat their best time.”

No matter what, it’s going to be a pain in the butt. You’re going to hear “Mommy” a thousand times. People are going to get smacked and kicked (and possibly poked in the eye with crayons) by their siblings. Dads are going to turn on their selective hearing and ignore everyone, but it's just as well. They could never contort, entertain or mollycoddle the way that moms can anyway.

Nothing is going to go the way you planned it and you are going to have to stop at a dirty bathroom somewhere, so you might as well just deal with it. Keep a fake smile on your face and lower your voice. Even though the Ohio River may look inviting as Dad roars over it at 78 miles an hour, remember that the trip WILL end.

Eventually.

from my 1/1/12 post for www.mentorpatch.com

Flippin the bird

While we were in NC over Christmas, we got to go to my old church (the same one where Jesse and I got married) for their Christmas play. We sat up front so we could see the stage and hear everything that was going on. It also happened to be "Treat Bag Day" which is a BIG deal. I had really talked it up to Josie and Sadie and Adelaide - I mean, it never seemed like Christmas to me when I was little until i'd had my White Oak Treat Bag!

Anyway, the whole time the play was going on, Josie kept asking things like, "Are the treat bags here yet? Where are the treat bags? Did we miss it? Have they given out the treat bags yet?" and MY personal favorite: "Okay, okay, so is it a TREAT, or is it a BAG?" While I was busy answering all of her questions and taking Adelaide back and forth to the bathroom three times, I didn't notice exactly what Sadie was doing. When I finally looked her way, there she was, all dressed up in her beautiful ladylike purple Christmas dress, feather in her hair, looking all around at everyone while holding up the middle fingers of BOTH of her hands. Yes, my sweet little Sadie was "flipping the bird" at the church Christmas play. I immeidately smacked both of her hands down onto the table and hissed, "Hey! Don't do that!" And she, of course, said, "Why not?" I said, "Because, just don't." "But why?" "BECAUSE." "WHy?" "It means something bad." "What does it mean?" "I'll tell you later." "Why? Can I do this finger? Or this one? How about this one? And my thumb? The thumb is good, right?" "Yes, yes, just not the middle one." "But WHY?"

I left it up to her daddy to explain it to her later... and I guess he did a pretty good job. She told me later that it means that you're saying every bad name and that I hate you and you're stupid and ugly and all kinds of bad things if you do that with your finger.

Sheesh. I'm glad he explained it and not me.

Famous words

After reading "Growing up Where Jesus Lived" we had a discussion about Passover and the Pharoah and all of that stuff. Josie was concerned about all of the firstborn dying. Sadie said, "Well, I guess that was bad news for me." Josie said, "Did the other kids die, too? No? Whew. Good." Adelaide then pretended to be the Pharoah and I was supposed to be Moses. I kept asking her to let my people go, and she kept refusing. I finally asked, "OH, PLEASE, PLEASE let my people go!" and she rolled her eyes, sat back, and said, "Okay, fine. Get outta here."

Adelaide: "That thing is hunormous."

Josie, pretending to be a sheep at Christmas: "Baa-aaaah. Hum-bug."

Mommy to Adelaide, while hugging: "You're my girl."
Adelaide to Mommy, while hugging: "You're my mom."

Jedidiah, after fake coughing to make fun of Mommy and straining and reaching to make fun of Daddy, while making Cheerio soup to splash his hands in on his high-chair tray: "Goggle gog gog, Gee go go, AAAH! GigglegigglegiggOOOH!"

Adelaide walked into the room, looked at me, and said, "Well, Mom, I don't have any plans." Then she walked out.

The Same old Song

Josie's version of "Here Comes Santa Claus"

-I pretend that I am sleeping
But he knows that I'm awake
He knows that I'm not being good
Dooby, dooby, dooby, doop

Sadie's favorite new song, thanks to her dad:

-Jingle bells, Daddy smells
from fifteen miles away
picks his nose with Cheerios
and eats them everyday! HEY!

Sadie and Josie's new (and unfortunately, catchy, tune... coined on our trip to look at Christmas lights in Willoughby):

-"Howdaya catch a candy cane on your anniversary? Heyheyhey! Howdaya catch a candy cane on your anniverSAREE!? HeyheyHEY!"

AND...

Adelaide's favorite song of the year:

-It's the most WONderFUL time of da YEAR! WONDERFUL! OF da YEAR! THE YEAR!
Josie: You're weird.
Adelaide, matter-of-factly: No, I'm not. It IS the most wonderful time. Of the year.

Spirit of Christmas

I made it almost twelve whole hours before I flipped out.

We are staying at my grandma’s house for Christmas and, though we love it, we are crammed in here like sardines. Sardines with too much luggage, a week’s worth of diapers and a pack-n-play.

Sardines with a “pallet” built out of foam rubber, two sheets and a comforter on the floor of the extra bedroom. Sardines who can’t find their jackets, their math workbooks, their boots or their blankies. Hot sardines – because Grandma keeps her house a tropical 80 degrees.

Now, I am a person who likes to live by the creed “a place for everything and everything in its place.” Unfortunately, that motto will just not work when we’re here.

Laundry, toys, luggage, presents, shoes… stuff is everywhere. We have no dresser drawers, no closets. Though it’s all part of being on “vacation,” it makes me crazy. Especially during the holidays when everything’s kind of crazy anyway.

The day we got here, the girls decided they wanted to go and surprise their Papaw at work. To make the surprise work, we had to hurry and get dressed and arrive at exactly the right time or we would miss him.

After digging through our bags to find jeans, sweaters, and jackets, we spent the next ten minutes trying to find three sets of matching shoes. To save space, I only packed two pairs of shoes for everyone: regular shoes and church shoes. Both kinds proved to be somewhat elusive.

Once they were finally ready to go, I sent the kids outside to get in the car while I finished getting myself (and the baby) dressed. I assumed, since their dad was outside, that the girls would be supervised. Big mistake.

I searched through a pile of baby stuff, looking for the wet wipes. When I reached for a diaper, I dumped all the makeup out of my makeup bag. My only tube of lip gloss landed in my suitcase and disappeared amidst books, yoga pants, a flatiron and pajamas. I think maybe I lost the Spirit of Christmas in there somewhere, too.

Annoyed and with decidedly un-glossy lips, I finished with the baby and headed outside.

There, I found my husband leaning back on the porch, apparently lost in thought. All three of the girls were nowhere to be seen. This was because they were looking for Rudolph in the backyard – in the sopping wet grass and mud.

In their only pair of regular shoes.

I snapped.

After I yelled, “This is all your fault! What are you even DOING?” at Jesse and “Get in the car NOW!” at the kids, I stripped them of their shoes and socks. I hollered something along the lines of: “We are trying to leave! Don’t you even think? If you’re trying to be on time, why would you mess up your only pair of shoes (besides church shoes) when you are supposed to already be in the CAR?” And so forth.

Jesse decided he should probably just stay home. I said “Fine!”

I stomped into the house, slung the soppy shoes in front of the heater, dug around until I found everyone’s church shoes, then stomped back to the car.

I threw sparkly silver (Adelaide), black patent leather (Sadie) and red kid leather (Josie) shoes in through the window and slammed the car into reverse.

Just then, Josie said, “Mommy… Mom. Hey, Mom. It’s Christmas!”

I stopped. I breathed. I sighed. “You’re right,” I admitted. I apologized.

Jesse came back to the car. We talked with the kids about how it’s hard to be away from home when you don’t know where all your stuff is, when everything is a mess, when you are so cramped and crowded (and hot.)

The girls thought about this for a minute. Then Josie said, “Well, here’s the good thing. The good thing is it’s Christmas and we are all cozy and warm. And we are all together.”

Who knew that I’d find the missing Spirit of Christmas right there in the backseat of my mini-van?

Merry Christmas, everyone!

-from my 12/25/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Tooth Fairy

Josie lost her front tooth while we were in North Carolina over Christmas. She has lost three teeth now, and EVERY ONE of them came out while we were in North Carolina! We were sitting on the couch at Great Grandma's house, and suddenly Josie said, "Aaaah!! My toof! My toof came out!" and sure enough, there it was in her hand. It always makes me a little bit sad when one of my kids loses a tooth. There, in her little palm, was the symbol of her babyhood! Her very first little top tooth that used to chew on her crib rails, her teething ring, and (sometimes) her sister. Sigh.

Josie's take: "Well, now I can thing "All I want for Chrithmath ith my two front teef."

She decided that the Tooth Fairy would definitely come while we were in NC, so she wrote a little note and put it with her tooth under her pillow. Then she said, "The Tooth Fairy has written Sadie TWO different notes, but I haven't gotten one yet!"

Well, as luck would have it, the Tooth Fairy DID leave her a note that night. Then she said, while greedily counting her $2.50, "Hmm. Sadie's Tooth Fairy note was sparkly and gold. Mine is written in PENCIL!"

Sheesh. The Tooth Fairy does not have as many craft and art supplies at Great Grandma's house!

The First Three Days

On a whim, we decided to take off on Thursday night. You should've seen their faces! I thought Josie would literally explode with happiness and that Sadie's face would crack in half...and Josie grabbed me and hugged and hugged me so tight. Then we drove ALL night, arriving around 4:00am on Friday morning. Adelaide asked MANY MANY times how many minutes it would be until we got to North Carolina. The kids all finally went to sleep around 11:30 after we made ONE stop to get gas and cheese fries at Wendy's. Except for Jed. He sat in his little seat and sucked on his two fingers and looked around (he just got turned face-forward) for TWO hours! They were really good... we listened to Christmas songs, and talked, and it was a good trip. Jesse got us here (miraculously, and without speeding, and WITH a cartop carrier) in about seven hours.

The kids love getting here in the middle of the night, and Great Grandma was happy to see us! They wanted to just pile in and surprise her, but I didn't think that it was a very good idea to scare her to death in the middle of the night. :)

No one knew we were home, so we decided that we'd go and surprise Papaw when he got back from work. I called Mamaw to find out what time he'd be back (Josie said, "You don't think Mamaw will TELL him, do you!?") and we met him just in time! Even though it was raining, we pulled in and parked about 2 minutes before he came wheeling in. The girls jumped out and ran across the parking lot just as he got out of the Jeep and they yelled, "SURPRISE! We wanted to surprise you at work!" And he said, "Well, you did!" and then they went inside with him for a couple of minutes and met his boss and a couple of people he worked with. It was fun.

Next I went to see my friend Becky at her new job and then we met Papaw and Mamaw for lunch at the Mexican place. Sadie and Josie went back to their house with them while we went to Walmart and then back to their house. We had a good evening, talking and playing and snuggling Jedidiah.

Saturday we ate Bojangle's for breakfast, and Jesse took the girls to see Cameron's basketball game. Grandma and I went to Betty and Dean's thrift store and the pawn shop (I looked at shotguns :) and later we went up to play at Angela's. The girls saw their first "deer kill" when Scotty and Cameron got back from hunting in the woods. Blech.

Next we ate spaghetti and salad at Mamaw's and Papaw's house and had storytelling hour! We heard about ghosts, angels, and Papaw's dog-shooting days. Jed (and everyone else) could not keep themselves off the treadmill. Why is that thing so much fun?

This morning, we got up early and went to see Cameron get baptized! It was exciting and it also brought tears to my eyes. It was so cute to see his giant grin on his little face :) and we got to see Adam and Laurie too, which was nice, since we haven't seen them in two years!

Next, we stopped and picked up Grandma and Nettie and headed up the mountain to White Oak for the Christmas play and more importantly, TREAT BAGS! Apparently, I have really talked up the treat bag tradition more than I realized. The kids were so excited about getting their little white bags filled with an apple, orange, candy bars, a marshmallow santa, nuts, candy canes, gum, etc. Josie couldn't stop talking about it all through church.... "Psst. Mom. Where are the treat bags? Did they give out the treat bags yet? Is it time for the treat bags? Are the treat bags after church? Or after the play? Or what?" and my personal favorite: "So is it a TREAT, or is it a BAG?" :)

My other favorite part (besides the treat bags and seeing lots of old friends and loved ones) was seeing Bobby dressed as Santa driving the church van. Priceless! Wish I had gotten a picture!

We met Becky, Stephen, and Hailey for lunch at (where else?) Village Inn! Yahoo! Unfortunately, everyone else in the county had the same idea. It was crowded and HOT. But good. And Hailey came home with us to play too... they played over at Nettie's, and found "fairy snails" outside on her garage door.

Then we went over to Madge and Steve's house to listen to some "picking and grinning," which was awesome! They played us some Bill Monroe and some Ricky Skaggs and it was very cool and bluegrassy. Then they played beauty shop till Hailey had to go and then Sharon, Thomas and Elizabeth, and Britt and Natasha and their kids came over. We ate pintos, cornbread, and potatoes for supper while the kids played. Jed and Colton both share the same interests: playing ball and playing in the toilet. Bayleigh informed her mom that "Adelaide doesn't bite anymore except for when she's mad."

Forget the Bad List

“Okay, girls, it’s time for bed,” I make the dreaded announcement to my Christmas-pajama-clad daughters.

“But MOM! We haven’t even started playing yet! We just finished setting up!”

Since they’ve been at it for well over two hours, I can’t understand how this is possible. It is, however, a pattern I’ve noticed with my children. They spend so much time “setting up” that they hardly ever get to actually play anything.

Now, I could take this one of two ways. I could feel sorry for my kids that they don’t spend sixteen hours a day “playing ponies” or paper dolls (fourteen of those hours for setting up, of course), or I could just be glad that they enjoy the setting up.

Decking the halls, trimming the tree, making the presents, wrapping the gifts… my kids somehow inherently know that “getting there is half the fun.” They have unknowingly adopted this mindset as their life’s philosophy.

The excitement, the build-up, the waiting, the anticipation of birthdays, parties, sleepovers, vacations, traveling, Christmas – life’s a journey, not a destination. Maybe I listened to too much Aerosmith during my pregnancies, but somehow my girls get it.

Somehow, they’ve missed the problem that I’ve always had: High expectations lead to big disappointments. Over the years, I’ve learned that the lower my expectations, the better off I’ll be.

A pre-marriage book that my husband and I read advised us to go into our marriage with very low expectations. “The lower, the better,” it told us. And Ben Franklin once said, “Blessed is he that expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.” Funny, maybe, but there’s a bit of ironic wisdom there too, isn’t there?

But my girls spend their entire lives expecting. Waiting. Dreaming. Anticipating.

A lot of times, things don’t turn out the way they had hoped. Maybe the tea party wasn’t exactly what they expected. Maybe the long-awaited trip to the theater downtown was boring. Maybe their picnic got rained out. Maybe The Nutcracker was sold out. Maybe Santa got confused on the difference between Fairy Friends Barbie and Fairy Secret Barbie (it does happen, believe it or not!).

They don’t water down their dreams, though. They don’t protect themselves by pretending that they aren’t excited. And strangely enough, even when things don’t go their way, they aren’t disappointed very often. They smile, dwell on the good parts and forget about the bad parts. What a way to go through life!

I constantly learn things from my children. This Christmas I’ve learned that maybe I should spend more time enjoying the process of my life. I need to do more "setting up" myself. Maybe it’s not my great expectations that cause me to be disappointed (or not) in the end. Maybe it’s my own attitude and how I choose to deal with the gifts (and gag gifts) that life sends my way.

-from my 12/18/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Making Memories

“Be careful, Adelaide! Don’t squeeze that one too hard or it will break,” Sadie admonished her little sister. “We already broke one of those hearts last year. Remember how you cut your finger? And Mommy and Daddy got those when they first got married.”

We are decorating the tree, one of my (and my girls’) favorite Christmas-y things to do.

My earliest Christmas memories involve our tree. I got choked on a pine needle when I was about three, and I remember my panicked mother. I remember our little blond angel tree-topper who held a little red twinkle light in each hand (or maybe the lights were her hands). My favorite ornament was always a one-inch-tall Christmas elf in a red dress with a glittery umbrella. She always was at the top of the tree so I couldn’t snatch her down and break her.

I remember my silk-thread covered “baby ball” ornament from (gasp)
1976. The Elvis commemorative ornament my mom bought the year "the King" died. I remember the shiny gold unicorn with a white feather mane my parents brought me from a trip to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. I remember a satin circus horse with jointed legs. A Raggedy Andy on a swing, a tiny church with a green roof, a red jack-in-the-box, a miniature picnic basket.

As the years passed by, I added others: A gold jingle bell wreath my cousin made, an olive wood nativity from the Holy Land, a Hawaiian-shirt patterned mini stocking from a trip to the Ron Jon Surf Shop, a ball that used to hang on my grandmother's tree that looks like a peppermint candy.

These things, brought out only once a year and hung with near-reverence,have grown to mean a lot to me over the years. Now, I tell my children about them as we hang them on our tree. The girls like to know my favorites, the stories behind them, the “history of mom.” I am glad to tell them.

They also like to hear their own stories and hang their own ornaments. They each have their own “first Christmas” ornament from the year they were born; they seem to sense that these fragile things are very special, and they handle them with care. Sadie’s is a white heart with a baby handprint in the center. Josie has a blown-glass snowman holding a tiny green Christmas tree. Adelaide’s is a snowflake frame with her chubby-cheeked baby picture in the center, and Jedidiah’s is a Santa-hat-wearing baby bear swinging on a yellow moon.

Every year they each get a special ornament; this year it was carousel horses with their names on the saddles. They are living their own Christmas histories and they don’t even know it.

I’m not sure how long my heavily-laden tree will hold out – probably for another ten years or so before the first batch goes. My plan is to box up their individual ornaments for them to decorate their own trees with when they grow up (sniff) and move out (sniff).

The girls and I hang the luminescent manger scene, the last icicle and the “special ornaments” from 2007. And 2009. And the final reindeer.

We sit down on the couch and admire our sparkling masterpiece. Theytalk about which ornaments they like best and why. They talk about which carousel horse would win if they could race, and they wonder if the little angels come alive at night when everyone is asleep.

We sit there together and I realize that these things we’ve been adorning our tree with for the past two hours aren’t just Christmas decorations.

They are memories.


from my 12/11/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Off to see da wizard

Well, we are well into the swing of Christmas here. We put the tree up the day after Thanksgiving, and of course Jedidiah is ALL about it. He wants to climb it, eat it, point at it, oooh at it, smile at it, and yes, destroy it if given the least opportunity. He is so cute, and yet, he is a little menace. His looks are deceiving.

Last Saturday, Grandma Beth took us (Jesse, the three girls, and I) to see The Wizard of Oz onstage at The School of Fine Arts. They all dressed up in their little opera/Christmas dresses that Grammie Gail bought for them: Sadie's, long and purple, Josie's, burgandy and sweeping, and Adelaide's, golden and sparkly around the middle AND AND AND good for twirling, just like she likes them.

They were so excited and they had a fabulous time. Adelaide sat between me and Jesse and before the show started she was SO EXCITED she could hardly stand it. I loved watching her even more than the show. Her little eyes were so full of wonder and enchantment and even love at the thought of "HER" beloved Dorofee, up there on the stage. :)

There were some complaints afterward, though: the "girly" trees (from dad), the lack of a pointy black hat for the Wicked Witch (from me), the lack of a crown and a blue dress instead of pink for Glinda (from Sadie, the resident Glinda expert - she has experience, you know), the lack of a funnel hat for the Tin Man (from Josie, although she DID like his sparkly sequin one), and last but not least the lack of pigtails for Dorothy. The Scarecrow was the best singer, and the Lion was the funniest, if not the bravest :) The show was really cute; we all love watching live theater (well, maybe Jesse doesn't LOVE it, but he at least tolerates it these days of behalf of his daughters)... we are lucky to have a Grandma around who thinks these things are important!

Today, we all went to a really neat Christmas Tea at our church. Again, the girls donned their "gay apparel" and fancily bore their favorite teacups and saucers to church for a Christmasy tabled, holiday-flavored, fancy tea-fooded event. They even had their own little table with their own little specially made choclately mints. Their good manners were in place, thankfully, and we had a good time. Grammie came with us, and we all had fun playing the scavenger hunt (Aunt Becky and Terry won, of course) and then the kids gave up and played Duck Duck Goose in the hallway while still in their fancy dresses. :)

Jedidiah wore his little red zippered Christmas footie outfit with the white snowman snowglobes on it (the Baby Gap one complete with a stripey Santa hat). Unfortunately, when I was getting him out of his carseat and he was still in his coat, I heard a crunchy sound. It sounded like velcro, so I assumed it was something on his coat and I yanked him out. So of course, it was the leg of his little outfit and when I took his coat off, his little chubber-dubber roly-poly thigh was sticking out! Aunt Becky said it was a good tickling hole.

Peace, Love, and a Tom-Tom

My kids aren’t perfect. This was made clear to me as they played tug-of-war with the oatmeal container tom-tom we made last week.

I’m not perfect. This was made clear to me when I yelled, “I will TAKE that tom-tom and THROW it out the WINDOW!”

We all have our faults. We’ve all made mistakes throughout the years. I make mistakes every single day of my life!

“Stop that tapping!” I yelled. My afternoon reverie, interrupted by a mind-numbing repetitive noise, was not to be. “Do not even THINK about tying your sister up and hitting her with that tomahawk!”

My girls, wearing paper feather headdresses while they sculpted a settlers’ colony out of Play-doh, were totally wired up. They are excited about the days we’ll be spending with friends, the food, the presents, the parties, the general “festiveness” of it all. They have been constantly chattering, singing loudly, squealing shrilly, jumping up and down excitedly and getting glitter everywhere.

I won’t lie. They have also been completely getting on my nerves. I’ve been
thinking about asking for a good set of earplugs this Christmas.

There is so much that needs to be done – my to-do list is literally three pages long. Naturally, my mind is on everything that needs to be purchased, wrapped, packed, baked, sorted, tagged, signed, sealed and delivered. I need quiet. I need to focus!

My children, however, don’t care about any of that. Their to-do list is very different from mine: see their friends and their families. Decorate some trees. Sing some songs. Build some snowmen. Read some stories. Look at some lights. Eat some cookies, stay up late, play some games and open some presents. In other words, relax and thoroughly enjoy themselves.

I’m somewhat jealous of their childish enthusiasm; to be perfectly honest, their list sounds like a lot more fun than mine does. As a matter of fact, mine sounds downright boring and joyless.

Am I missing the proverbial forest for the Christmas trees here? Maybe the singing, squealing and glittering isn’t so bad after all. Maybe they have it right and I need to just lighten up!

It seems that the real key to enjoying the holidays comes down to just this one thing: perspective. We need to accept each other for who we are. Warts and all. Things that drive me crazy (like squealing from excitement or singing Holly Jolly, Holly Jolly over and over) might just be the very things that are missing in my own life.

No, the ones I love aren’t perfect.

But loving them, even with all of their faults, is somehow perfect.

It’s amazing how love can do that: it can transform just about anything. Your family (and mine) might not be straight out of “It’s a Wonderful Life.” “It’s a Mediocre Life” or “It’s a Dysfunctional Life” might be more appropriate.

But maybe I should go into it this year like my children: with hope and excitement. With a song in my heart. With glitter!

I’m going to be prepared to count to ten. I’m going to breathe deeply, listen to a relaxation CD and try to maintain a non-Grinchy attitude. I may even go outside and find that tom-tom and give it back to them! I’m going to try to forgive the annoyances and maybe, just maybe, let some things slide this year. Who knows? Maybe I’m the annoying one. Maybe my kids are letting things slide because they love me.

I can at least return the favor.



from my 12/4/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

First Broken Bone!

Poor Josie broke her collarbone "in the service of the Lord," so to speak. She was helping take up the Sunday School collection at church and she somehow tripped (as only her mother could teach her) and landed in exactly the right spot to fracture her left clavicle. It HURT. She cried and cried all through church, and she ended up staying out in the van with Lynn (the ER nurse) and Jesse checking on her throughout the service. When she came home, she was just miserable and she stayed on the couch all afternoon and evening. I finally made the call to take her to the hospital, knowing firsthand how something can be broken and a parent not know it! (Case in point, my daddy let me walk/hop around on a broken tibia for two days because it didn't swell up = not broken). Jesse took her and they xrayed her and yep, it was broken, all right. She nursed her poor arm/shoulder and took the pain like a pro - only a little bit of Tylenol and she was rearing to go again. She was NOT happy about having to wear her sling with all her fancy Christmas dresses, though. Who knew the Lord's work could be so dangerous? :)

Long Day

The days are long, but the years are short.

Sometimes I stop and look at my children and I can't believe that they are really mine. I can't believe that my little sweet babies, that I carried in my womb and in my arms, are so big and grown up. They are doing okay without me, wiping their own butts, getting their own snacks, taking their own showers, reading their own books.

It's bittersweet. I'm proud of them, of the young ladies they are becoming, and I know that I'll be sad when they don't need me anymore. It's funny, day in and day out I get SO TIRED of hearing, "MOMMY! I'm DONE!" and "Come look at this!" and "I need help with this!" and dozens of other things I hear over and over and over.

But one day I will long for it.

Tonight, I am exhausted after a long day of being mom.

One day I will wish for one more day filled with exhaustion-causing mundane tasks. I love them so much. I hope they know.

Coco

Last week on one of those unseasonably warm fall days, we went to the park. Somewhere between the swings, the slide, and the merry-go-round, Sadie found a woolly bear caterpillar crawling along in the mulch. She picked him (I mean her) up and let her crawl across her hand.

The woolly bear caterpillar, with its 13 distinct black and reddish segments, has somehow earned the reputation of being able to forecast what kind of weather we're going to have this winter. Sadie didn’t know this though. And she didn’t care.

Once she picked up that worm and held it in her hand, she immediately fell head over segments.

For the next two hours, during what was supposed to our nature walk, Sadie was completely preoccupied with this woolly worm. I would go so far as to say she became obsessed.

The few times she let the newly-named “Coco” out of her sight, she was like a nervous mother hen.

“Where is she? Where did she go? A BIRD WILL EAT HER! Watch her for me, Mom, would you?”

Then she decided on a middle name. Furbear. Coco Furbear Lansing.

Our scientific nature walk was completely overshadowed – the careful observation of this tiny creature took its place. Now that I think about it, I guess that lends itself a lot more to learning scientifically than just a run-of-the-mill nature walk.

“She has suction cup feet – she’s so fuzzy! Feel her! Hmm, but she has a creepy face, kind of like an alien.”

“What happens to these, Mom? Do you know? Do they turn into something?”

I honestly didn’t know. We decided to bring Coco home with us and do some research. This would be a great science project! We found out that she would turn into a Pyrrharctia isabella, the Isabella tiger moth, so we looked up pictures of tiger moths. It’s really amazing that these fuzzy little things turn into such delicate creatures.

Sadie decided that she wanted to keep Coco all winter and watch her build a cocoon. We found out that they eat fresh grass, so we filled a box with grass and poked air holes in the lid. Then we left Coco to her own devices, or so I thought.

I left the girls upstairs for quiet time and came downstairs.

When next I saw their room, it had been turned into a wooly worm obstacle course. There were paper towel rolls for crawling through. Strings had been strung as tightropes. There was a matchbox car for driving around, a My Little Pony Ferris wheel for recreational purposes.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Then next day, I was awakened by a little person standing next to my bed with a worm on her finger. She said, “Somebody got up early this morning! She was standing up in her box. She wanted to get out and play!”

Of course she did.

Adelaide scampered in behind her sister and yelled excitedly, “Yes! She WAS! Sadie already let me holded her 2 times!”

Later a friend of ours brought over a woolly bear playmate for Coco. Christened “Fudge,” he was put into the box and watched intently. Sadie hoped against hope for some mating activity to ensue so that there would be caterpillar eggs - and lots of little baby Cocos crawling around.

I just hope this caterpillar lasts till spring, or there is going to be one very sad worm funeral going on around here.

from my 11/27/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

The Thankful Tree

In honor of the upcoming season, I decided that my kids needed to do something to remind them to be thankful for what they have.

After all, children seem to be way too entitled these days, don’t they? Sometimes they just don’t seem to appreciate what they have.

A few weeks ago a friend of mine told me about a tradition she started at her house called a Thankful Tree. It sounded like a good idea to me, and I was determined that my girls would feel thankful this season. So, I went to work with some green and brown construction paper and set about “building” a big green tree with a brown trunk.

Next, the girls and I took their safety scissors and cut out little paper leaves from different fall colors – yellow, orange, and some white (since we couldn’t find any red.) Then we each took some leaves out of the “leaf pile” and began to write down the things we are thankful for.

I wrote on my own leaves and helped three-year-old Adelaide as my older girls, ages 6 and 7, focused on their leaves. Sadie’s tongue poked out the corner of her mouth in concentration (just like her dad when he uses scissors.) Josie gripped her pencil firmly in her left hand while she stared at her paper, pondering her blessings.

After we all finished our leaves, we took turns using double-sided tape to stick them up on our tree. Sadie and Adelaide finished and headed to the family room to resume their game of “inside walking tag.” Six-year-old Josie went over to the table to make a few more leaves. I stayed by the tree to read what everyone had written.

To my surprise, I noticed that the girls had been much more thoughtful than me. The leaves growing on our tree now boasted things of great magnitude, like “God, Grandpas, Grandmas, aunts, uncles, cousins, Jesus, Dad, Mom, brother, sisters....” There were also some that read “my bike, my Snoopy, my Dorothy doll, my dog.” Then there were others that you'd expect, like “my house, my room, my blanket, my favorite pillow."

Wait a minute... maybe my kids weren't ungrateful after all!

As a matter of fact, my leaves seemed a bit more trivial after I read theirs. In addition to my family and friends, I had written things that don't really matter that much in the great scheme of things. Things like my coffee maker, my car, electricity, my clothes.

A minute later (and feeling a bit humbled), I watched as Josie padded back over to the tree in her fuzzy pink slippers. She said, “Here, Mommy. I almost forgot something important.” She stuck three more leaves to the tree, them scampered off to join her sisters.

Tears filled my eyes as I read what was so important to my little girl.

Stuck haphazardly to the brown construction paper branches in scrawling, messy handwriting, were six simple words that changed my heart for this season of thanksgiving. Written in her childish pencil were the words:

"My hand.

My feet.

My eyes."

My heart full, I realized at that moment that I'm the one who was feeling entitled. I'm the one who was being ungrateful.

I realized that we all have so much more to be thankful for than we ever acknowledge – perhaps more than we even realize.

I went into this little activity trying to teach my kids something about thankfulness. Little did I know that they were going to be the ones teaching me.


from my 11/20/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Birthday Boy!

I can't believe that my sweet little Jeddy-boo is already one year old. Today was his birthday, and we celebrated by (what else?) going to El Rodeo. He (of course) wore the birthday sombrero... although he didn't want to. He also pointed with his little ET finger and got INCREDIBLY excited when they brought out a little fried ice cream with a lit candle on top. He knew EXACTLY what that thing was, since he had had a candle in his very FIRST cupcake at his party on Sunday. He freaked out and pointed and "oohed!" and squealed and half-cried until we gave him a bite of whipped cream. Too funny.

Like I said, we had his party on Sunday at Grandma and Grandpa's house (otherwise known as Lansing Party Central). Since they were going to be out of town this coming weekend, we ended up having a triple birthday party for Sarah, Ireson (turning 5!) and Jed's Big One. He was very sleepy from skipping his morning nap because of church, so we fed him lunch and then rushed everyone in to sing to him so he could smash his cake and them take a nap during the sugar crash. He was very interested in the cake (Sarah held it so he wouldn't burn his fingers on the candle) and seemed to be wondering why everyone was watching him all of a sudden. We all assumed he would attack the cake and smear it in his ears and nose and everywhere else (like Adelaide), but he picked it up in his two little hands and very neatly took little bites from it. It was SO CUTE and he was so careful with it. He even used his pointer finger to pick up the crumbs and put them into his mouth. I think he was afraid that he'd never get a chance like this again (to eat something this sugary) and so he didn't want to miss a single morsel.

It was so cute to see him surrounded by his three big sisters and his cousins; you could tell that they all love him so much!

Adelaide-ster's Dictionary

Adelaide is three, and she has her own ideas about pretty much everything. In addition to her own ideas, she also has a pretty interesting vocabulary, which she made up her own self (see definition below.)

My own self: used as an emphatic substitute for a possessive pronoun, as in: “I am not your girl. I am my own self’s girl.”

Bain-daid: an adhesive bandage that you apply to your finger when you get a boo-boo.

Macaroni: little round pieces of Italian meat, usually used as a pizza topping.

Cantaloupe: swift-running deer-like animal found in Africa, a favorite meal of lions. As in, “Sadie and Josie are pretending to be lions, and they’re chasing me because I’m a cantaloupe!”

Un-raser: the pink thing on the end of a pencil, used to rub out a mistake on paper.

Er: what you might say to indicate an alternative, as in: “Is that a kid er a grown-up?”

Red Lopsta: the restaurant where they sometimes let you pet the crustaceans before you eat them.

Quaker State and Loober-Hoober: the restaurant down the street from Red Lopsta.

Whiler: an increment of time between a "while" and an "hour" as in: “I did it a whiler ago.”

Jolly Rogers: a brand of little, rectangular hard candies that come in mouthwatering fruit flavors.

Regaly: not special, as in: "Is this my favorite kind of cheese or is it just regaly cheese?"

Cimmaninin: a commonly used spice. As in: "Does this applesauce have cimmaninin in it?

He's: a seldom used pronoun, as in: "I hit him on he's head."

Apparentwy of course dat did not: a phrase used when something happens that you did not want to happen. As in: "Apparentwy, when I put my finger in he's mouf, Jedidiah bit my finger. Of course dat did not hurt. But doze are teef marks."

Teef: bony white structures in your mouth used for chewing.

Bugs Wabbit: the star of Looney Toons cartoons. Famous for saying, "Eh, what's up, Duck?"

Chicken-fish: any kind of chicken er fish that has a batter coating, such as turkey.

I'ont keer: what you say when it something really doesn't matter to you, as in: "I'ont keer if it's naptime. I'ont wanna take a nap!"

Cheese booger: a type of sandwich, usually purchased at a fast food restaurant.

Old McDonald's: a fast food place where you can get cheese boogers.

Breftast: the most important meal of the day.

Salomey: a favorite lunch meat. Best when eaten rolled up, but not dipped in moosetard.

Moosetard: a paste made from the crushed seeds of certain plants, used as a condiment. Also known as yellow ketchup.

Isdroy: to tear something up or maim it: "I will isdroy you with this stick!"

Cive: a place where bees live. "There's lots of honey in that bee cive."

Feel free to use these Adelaide-isms whenever you’d like; I’m sure she won’t “keer.”

-From my 11/13/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Three additions:

Laver: a molten hot rock that can burn your feet. As in: "Careful! Jump from the couch to the chair or you will step in hot laver!"

Opposed: used to describe something that should or shouldn't be done. As in: "You are not opposed to tickle me!"

Crouton: a noun, much like (in fact, exactly like) an ottoman. Thought process: ottoman is like a futon, futon sounds like crouton. As in: "I'll hide it over there under the crouton."

Beezra: a black and white striped African animal that looks like a horse.

Thanks

Today, Josie and I had our annual Mommy/Josie day. We went (as usual) to the Christmas bazaars close to our church, and we had a fun time looking at all the crafts and ornaments, scarves and pastries that were for sale. We stopped and had a snack at one of the biggest craft shows, and there were tables set up. Josie sat on my lap and drank her hot chocolate, nibbling a piece of cheese pizza. As she looked around, she noticed an elderly man at a table across from us with a black hat on. She asked what the hat said. I told her "Proud to be a World War II Veteran." Since we had just talked about veterans on Friday (and called Papaw and Grampie to say thank you for serving) and learned some about WWII and the Nazis, Josie was very interested. She asked if he had helped to fight "those really really bad guys. The Nazis. The ones who wanted to kill everyone if they weren't white." I told her yes, that he had fought in that war and that he was probably a hero. She said, "Well, I guess we should go and thank him." I told her I thought that was a GREAT idea, and I was SO PROUD of her! We walked over to his table and she went right over and leaned in next to him and said, "I just wanted to say thank you for being a veterinarian." Oh man. It was the sweetest, and funniest, and greatest moment. I love my Josie-Bean!

Garage Sale Junkies

With the beginning of fall comes the end of one of our favorite times of year: garage sale season.

My girls and I are garage sale junkies, and we are not ashamed to admit it.

Since there are four children in our one-income family, our toy budget is very small. At garage sales, though, we can stretch it w-a-a-a-y out.

When Josie’s Big Wheel tricycle bit the dust in the spring, I researched new ones online. They were $80! We found a gently used one (pink and purple, no less) at a garage sale for $4.

We were hooked.

Sadie likens “garage-sale-ing” to a treasure hunt, because “you just never know what you’re going to find!” She and her two sisters gather up their change in their little sparkly purses and load up in the van, on the lookout for handmade signs and tell-tale balloons that mark the spot.

They instruct me to stay out of “town” because there are no “homes” there. Instead, I make a big circle down Lakeshore Avenue, across Center Street, and back up Bellflower Street. We find literally hundreds of garage sales in a 5-mile radius during the spring and summer.

They yell “there’s one, there’s one!” then scope it out to make sure there is some “kid stuff.” Sometimes, we just do what we call a drive-by, checking it out very slowly from the road. They have to take turns getting out of the car, so they want to make sure it’s a good one before they waste their turn on it.

Some of our favorite finds:

Brand new ice skates, just Josie’s size: $1

Gold sequined Michael Jackson hat (a perfect complement to Sadie’s gold purse): $1

2 willow brooms (excellent for playing Little House on the Prairie): $0.75

A free jewelry box for Sadie “because she’s cute.”

A bowlful of sea glass from Lake Erie for Sadie’s collection: $0.10

A leather storage ottoman just like the $250 one that Mommy’s been eyeing: $15

A huge boxful of Magnetix magnet toys: $5

Twin stuffed tigers for Josie: $1

Speaking of twin tigers, we have one problem with garage sales: Josie feels the need to bring home every (soon-to-be) homeless stuffed animal that she sees in the ever-present quarter box at any given sale. The case she usually pleads: “But Mo-ommm, I really need that. That (monkey, elephant, tiger, dog, cat, lizard, camel, mouse) needs a home! He looks so sad! I neeeeeed him! And even worse, he needs meeeee!” Since she already has a shelf full of adoptees, (and a heart bigger than her room) we really have to try and steer clear of the quarter box.

Also, all three of the girls love to patronize the lemonade stands that their peers set up. They are very supportive of the entrepreneurial spirit of anyone in their age bracket; they are willing to submit to the highway robbery that some of these kids charge for cookies and fruit punch. Apparently, snacks taste a lot better when you are buying them from someone your own age WITH your own money.

Books for a quarter, brand new clothes with tags still on them, costumes for the dress-up box, craft materials, coloring books, the thrill of the hunt…. You can see why we are sad to see the season go.

I guess that old saying still applies: one kid’s trash is another kid’s treasure.

So, start cleaning out your closets now – you’ll probably see us in the spring!

-From my 11/6/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Satisfaction

Sadie's current favorite word is "satisfied." For example, she says things like, "Jedidiah is very satisfied with that hole in the blanket! He likes to mess with it!" or "Roscoe is satisfied with that stick" or even "Adelaide is pretty satisfied with that picture I drew for her." She hardly ever talks about HERSELF being satisfied. Hmmm. Wonder what that means.

Quotationssss

Mommy to Sadie, after a morning of many annoyances: "Do you want to annoy the WHOLE WORLD?!" Then, realizing the enormity (and great exaggeration) of that question, we all broke into peals of laughter.

Adelaide, during schooltime: "I need the un-raser. Please excuse me, Porky."

Sadie, burning her tongue: "The tea! The tea is scolding me!"

Adelaide, needing help: "Mommy! Help me! I'm distracted!"

Favorite Facebook Updates from September and October

Adelaide just gave me some encouraging news: "I'm tired of being a bad girl. I guess I'll be a good girl now."

Oh my gosh... Josie just completely cracked me up while we were playing ball. She said, "I am not the goal. I am the government. If I get the ball, I am going to KEEP it."

Rabid raccoon in our backyard. Kids are strangely excited. Waiting for police.

Jedidiah is on a steady diet of leaves... He eats them off the floor faster than I can sweep them up. Mmm, crunchy.

Adelaide/AdeTUDE
"Would you like for me to turn this down? You would? Well, I'm not going to."

‎15 kids, 5 adults, 1 runaway dog, a double rainbow, one firepit, some kamikaze swinging and some hail = the end of the second annual family fun night! Phew.

‎1,2,3, set, go! - Adelaide

Jedidiah saw his first mariachi band tonight. Of course, Josie and Sadie requested "La Bamba," so he didn't hear an actual song. :)

Sunny Saturday
Snuggling my baby boy
Mommy's heart is full.

Sadie: Stop a-hoverin' over me! It's a-drivin' me crazy!

Adelaide: If I dweam about ice cweam, can we have it for bweakfast in the morning?

Poor Sadie just got conked on the head by a fire truck. She has a huge knot on her head... The child cannot dodge (literally) her mother's influence.

In between coughing fits, Adelaide serenaded me today with that old and beloved but seldom-heard spiritual: "Swing Low, Sweet Cheerio."

Josie: "Never look a dinosaur in the eye."

Adelaide reading to Jed out of her bible: "Once upon a time there was a little old lady whispering hush the naked bear will get thee. Amen."

Sadie, after a discussion about track and field events: "I bet I would be good at the high jump." Adelaide adds: "And I would be good at the low jump."

So Jed is crawling with just one leg, dragging the other one across the floor behind him. He's also drooling. Grandpa Roy (recently had a stroke) walks in, sees this, and says, "Kid, you look just like your grandpa." 9/14/11

All About the Candy

For months, my kids have been consumed by one all-important question.

For months they’ve planned. They’ve dreamed. They've schemed.

“What should I be for Halloween?”

From a child's point of view, it’s not a matter to be taken lightly. They have one night. One chance. They must develop a strategy that will get them what they want: the prize to end all prizes. The be all, end all.

Candy.

Not just any candy, mind you. A giant BAG of candy. All for them. No forced sharing mandates. A free pass from mom to eat however much they want of whatever they want.

Their reasoning?

It’s all mine! I worked for this! This was all my idea! My cuteness! My tricking, my treating!

Now, there was never any doubt as to what Adelaide would be for Halloween. For months, she has been practicing to be “Dorofee.” So, it was up to her older sisters Sadie and Josie to develop a complementary plan. Last year, they were Mary and Laura Ingalls and Suki the cow from the Little House books. They have not forgotten all the compliments, the smiles, the “how cutes!” and the extra candy that little costume trio earned for them.

I could see the little wheels in their brains turning as they tried to figure out a plan.

They don’t really care about The Wizard of Oz. They care about the candy.

“What will make us look the cutest?” they discussed. “What will get us noticed?” they wondered.

“What will get us… candy?”

Josie saw the light first. She made the decision. She will be The Cowardly Lion. She got Grandma to make her the cutest, furriest lion suit ever. She has walked around the house “in character” for the past two weeks. She has practiced her goofy laugh and her lines: “Who pulled my tail?” and “Unusual weather we’re having, ain’t it?”

One down.

Sadie saw the wisdom in Josie’s plan, but she flat out refused to be the Tin Man or a flying monkey. Not her – dress-wearing, ballet-dancing, fancy-pants that she is. No way, no how.

But suddenly, inspiration struck! My aunt offered her a poofy, bubblegum pink concoction of a prom dress that my cousin had worn for Halloween fifteen years ago. The iridescent pink lightbulb in Sadie’s head went off: she would be be the girliest, sparkliest witch this side of the rainbow! Glinda the Good Witch!

That made two.

Last but not least was the cute little unassuming baby brother. He really had no say in this. They unashamedly planned to use him for their own sheer greed and candy profit. There was discussion of making him into Toto, since he crawls around on the floor anyway. After some flashbacks of Suki the cow being yanked around at the end of a rope last year, I decided to veto this idea in favor of something that doesn't involve a dog leash: a baby scarecrow.

The Tin Man will be missing, but no one is exempt from their secret candy agenda. I overheard this little discussion yesterday: “let’s beg Daddy to put the funnel from the garage on his head!”

Yep, it’s all about the candy.

-from my October 30th article for www.mentorpatch.com

Mommy Moment

Yesterday I had one of those "Mom Moments" that you hear about. I never actually HAD one, that I can remember off the top of my head, but yesterday, I did. Sadie and I were doing her writing in her notebook (as usual, she did a little bit of actual writing, and I did a lot of dictation-taking for her). We were talking about World War II, since we had recently finished Grandfather's Journey for our FIAR time. They've also been watching The Sound of Music in short increments and we've been talking a little bit about the Nazis, Hitler, and terrible things like the holocaust (in age appropriate terms, of course). Anyway, as she dictated to me, her eyes grew wide and she said how it's so bad to try to get rid of one group of people just because you don't like them... or because you think they are "less of a person than you are." She drew her own parallels (I love this about my child!) to a group of people who are being killed today because of their "personhood" status being in question. She said, "It's like the little tiny babies who aren't born yet! Just because they are small doesn't mean that they aren't people too!" I was floored and started crying, since this topic is so near and dear to my heart. She asked me why I was crying and I told her the truth... I am just so proud of her, and I KNOW that she has such strength within her - and the POWER inside her to do the right thing, and to tell other people what the right thing is! I am excited about the person she is becoming.

Stick in the Mud

What is it about mud that magnetically attracts children?

We have a low-lying area in our backyard that almost always has standing water in it. This natural mud hole somehow puts out a siren call to anyone under four feet tall, and I have to physically restrain my kids from going back there and sinking in mud up to their knees.

How do they find it? Even if my backyard wasn’t reminiscent of the La Brea Tar Pits, it wouldn’t matter. They would search out the inevitable scooped out area at the bottom of the slide on the playground or the mulch-free spot that is always under the swings.

Their shoes would still be caked in it, their socks still dried and prickly.

Keep in mind that these are my girls. I can’t help but wonder what is going to happen to the mud situation at my house when baby Jedidiah gets old enough to join in the fun.

A friend of mine recently told me that her little boy used to take a handful and chomp into it like it was an apple. Great.

Last week (and this was before the two-week long mud-creating monsoon hit) we all went over to a friend’s house. I visited with the mom inside while all the kids went out to play in the fenced-in yard. We could hear squeals of glee, peals of laughter, the occasional good natured shriek. Then, we heard something a bit more sinister: plop! Plop-plop. PLOP!

I saw Sadie through the window, holding a giant mud ball – we’re talking bowling-ball size here – in her hand. She whirled around like she was preparing to heave a discus at the Olympics. Instead, PLOP! She threw it right against the nice white fence. Her audience cheered.

She bent to pick up another (pre-formed) ready-made ball. I tapped on the window, but to no avail. She spun and struck again. They all roared.

So did I, but in a different way.

I mean, after all, it wasn’t OUR fence.

With mud splattered all over their pants and stuck to the insides of their shoes, I shoved all their belongings into a plastic grocery bag (kept under the seat in the car for just such an occasion) and we went home.

Sadie (sort of) explained what had happened. “But Mommy, we just love mud. I don’t know why. Well, yes I do. Mud just feels so squishy and good! We were going to wash it off with the hose!”

“Yeah,” chimed in Josie. “And we like building dams out of mud, too. Because as you know, beavers are pretty much the coolest thing ever. And, Mom, it is also good for patching things because when you put mud on some tree bark and stick in on a place that has a hole in it, mud is like glue.”

And of course, Adelaide had to give me her three-year-old opinion. “Well, Mommy, I like to stick mud in holes and play around with it AND throw it at the fence.”

None of these were a good defense, in my opinion.

I seriously hope that this rain is over soon. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but sticks and mud are driving me bonkers.


-from my 10/23/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Day in the Life

Today was basically a good day. Jedidiah woke up first (as usual) and proceeded to smack the bluebird music box on the side of his crib - BANG BANG! Bang BANG! over and over until I came in to get him. Then he looked up at me with his gorgeous little moon-shaped face, pulled on the crib rails and stood up, all wobbly in his fuzzy yellow gown (Jesse gets mad when I call it a gown, but it is what it is) and reached for me. I love quiet mornings with him when I first get him up, change him (as wiggly as he is, I can usually buy some butt-wiping time by handing him the little cat figurine from the shelf above the changing table), and sit down with him in the rocking chair. He's VERY impatient in the mornings, though, and he starts his "Eh! Eh eh!" grunting cries pretty quick if I'm not fast enough. I love the way he nuzzles his little fuzzy haired head down between my neck and my shoulder... we snuggle under his fuzzy blue and yellow ducky blanket and nurse and rock and usually I sing him a song or two and tell him how cute he is and how much I love him. Then Adelaide staggers in, all bedheaded and big smiles. She flops down on the ottoman by my feet and scrunches under the blanket too and says, "Is bweakfast weady? I peed in this pull-up but not not not in my pants. And not on my shirt eider." She goes off to throw her pull-up in the trash and her pants in the laundry room. She comes back, half of a nudie-butt, and gets back under the covers after she picks out her panties (blue with yellow flowers) for the day. We read Panda Bear Panda Bear What do you See?. I get up, leaving her and Jed to play on the floor. I put in laundry. I take out laundry. I straighten the schoolroom, help make up Adelaide's bed. I pick up tiny things off the floor that Jed would (definitely) try to put in his mouth. I open the shades. I put toothpaste on toothbrushes. I make breakfast (very berry oatmeal and their southern, if not healthy, favorite: Spam!. They gobble it up, once Sadie and Josie have traipsed down the stairs. Sadie is dressed in her favorite outfit - the long sleeved black shirt with the pink ribbon stitched on the collar and her burgandy velvety pants. She checks the calendar to see what's going on today, then remembers we're going to the museum - AND that we need to make Grammie's birthday cake in two days. Josie sleeps in a litte (as usual) but comes down rubbing her eyes with her blankie, new gap in her bottom row of teeth, and a cute sunshiny Josie-bean smile. She kisses Jed good morning and sits down in her spot on the bench at the table. Adelaide sings "God our father, we thank you for our blessings! Ahhhmen!" We read from "Growing up When Jesus Did" and Sadie makes lots of observations. Not one to eat breakfast, Josie picks at her food. Adelaide says, "This is the best oatmeal I ever had!" and finishes off Josie's. We get teeth brushed, some responsibilites checked off our new magnetic responsibility chart, and get shoes on. We wait for Melissa, Donna, and Caroline to get here and then we caravan to the museum. Adelaide really wants to go in the star tunnel, so we go there first thing. Then we meander around, checking out the different galleries, eating lunch in the Blue Planet (Sadie really wants a baked potato, but I didn't want to open that can of worms and buy anything in there - it's so overpriced - so they all had to eat what I packed. Adelaide and Caroline had a great time playing together while Sadie and Josie went into their Weather class. Josie wanted me to come in and sit with her, but since I had her little brother and sister, they would've been a HUGE distraction to the class. She was fine in there with Sadie and James and Teagan, but I kind of wanted to go and sit with her. I'm glad she still even wants me around. I know that one day soon she probably won't want me to hang out with her. Sigh. I'm having some mixed emotions today. Probably because my LAST baby has filled out an 18 MONTH PJ SET. Anyway, we had fun at the museum. On the way home, the little ones fell asleep and Sadie and Josie listened to The Magic Treehouse on CD. We got home right at the climax of the story and then Sadie spent the next half hour trying to find a stinking CD player in our house that would actually work so she could find out what happened. Josie didn't care much - she just wanted to play with her "Pollies," as she calls her little teeny doll stuff. Adelaide and Jed took naps (sort of) and I relaxed for my allotted 30 minutes out of 24 hours. Then up for the store with Josie, then dinner (baked potatoes - Sadie's choice) baths, and stories - Sadie read Panda Bear Panda Bear, What do you See?, so all in all, the day came full circle. I just put in another load of laundry, and it's after 11... so my day must be done too.

What Really Matters?

Some things just don’t matter as much now as they used to.

Do ladies need to wear hats and gloves when they go shopping these days? No. It doesn’t matter. Do gentlemen need to wear a coat and tie to go out to the movies? No. It doesn’t matter. Are we frowned upon when we don’t bake our own bread, or grow our own vegetables, or change our own tires? NO.

That’s right. According to Bill Murray, “It just doesn't matter!”

Life has changed in many ways since I became a mom. Do I still get dressed up and put makeup on every day? No. It doesn’t matter to my kids if I do. Do I still go out and buy fancy shoes with every paycheck I earn? No, (unfortunately) I now wear comfortable “mom shoes.” Shoes don’t matter anymore either.

Staying up late, eating out, overnight trips, specialty coffees – these things have taken a demotion on the totem pole of importance in my life since my children came along.

Here is my assessment of some of the things that don’t matter nearly as much – and the things that do – now that I have children:

Crumbs on my clean floor don’t matter. Crumbs mean that I have kids that don’t have to go to bed hungry.

Fingerprints and smudges on the walls don’t matter. They mean that I have toddlers who are healthy and able to play (though I would prefer that they learn to use a paper towel.)

Not having enough free time to surf the Internet doesn’t matter. It means that I have an extra five minutes for lullaby-singing. Who needs to know who has the worse beach body this year, anyway?

Piles of unfolded laundry don’t matter. They mean that I have a houseful of people that I love. Messy people, yes, but I love them!

A house cluttered with toys, books and fishing gear doesn’t matter. It means that my family is comfortable here and they can do all the things they love at home.

Missing the beginning of my favorite TV show doesn’t matter. It means that I have time to read two extra bedtime stories to someone who is growing up too fast.

A puddle of spilled grape juice on the kitchen counter doesn’t matter. A sticky kiss from little grape-juice-flavored lips does.

Toys left out in the yard and in the driveway don’t matter. The fact that I have room for my kids to run around outside – and to breathe fresh air – that’s what matters.

Muddy shoe prints on the floor don’t really matter. They mean that my children are exploring and learning to love nature. Besides, I like to mop. Really.

Water all over the bathroom walls doesn’t matter. What matters is having fun in the tub with bubbles and your favorite squeaky duck!

In the great scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter that my girls are not asleep when they are supposed to be. What matters is that they are safe and sound, giggling and telling stories to each other in their room.

Wearing the latest name-brand styles does not matter. What matters is learning that what’s on the inside is what counts.

Being able to afford the newest technological toys and gadgets doesn’t matter. Learning to be content with what you have does.

Whether or not my three-year-old eats all her green peas does not matter. Sharing meals together as a family does (and I don’t like green peas either, so there.)

Being able to sleep in on Saturday morning doesn’t matter. Spending the night rocking my baby to sleep does.

Laughter matters. Patience matters. Sacrifice matters.

Love matters.

Bill Murray was right. Lots of things just don’t matter at all.

But some things still do.

-from my 10/16/11 article for www.mentorpatch.com

Chips and Dips

Sadie and Josie are fighting over a bag of chips (a rare commodity in this house, since I hardly EVER buy them). Sadie already had a bunch; Josie has the bag now and Sadie wants more. Josie refuses. Sadie, drama in full effect, says, "Nothing, but NOTHING, will she give me!"

Josie says, "Well, you didn't share with me either."
Sadie: "Next time, I'll get Adelaide something and NOT YOU!"
Josie: "You know what the Bible says!"
Sadie: "So do you!"
Josie: "Well, just because someone does something to you...."
Sadie: "Shush! Just Shush!"

What Season are You?

The first flutter of gold and brown leaves swirled down around us with a breath of chilly air.

Josie turned her face toward the sun, squinting her blue eyes up at the trees. She ran out into the squishy grass with arms outstretched. She twirled around and tried to catch the first crunchy leaves as they somersaulted through the air.

“It’s fall!” she yelled. “Summer is over and it’s finally fall!”

I guess I was in a contemplative mood, because her 6-year old exuberance paired up with the falling leaves led me to wonder:

What season am I in?

Every mom’s life is a whirlwind of seasons. They change from one to the next with barely any warning at all. Somehow we all manage to weather the seasons, whether they are gentle and warm or hard and unforgiving.

My children are in the springtime of their youth. I’m always there to help them, to take care of them, to watch them grow, to help them dig in their roots. Their lives are new, exciting, and full of energy. Sometimes we forget that we moms have had a former life, too. We spent time in the childhood season of friends, silliness, playing and carefree lazy afternoons.

I guess right now, I’m in the summer of my life. I’ve made it through the difficult years of growing up and “finding myself.” I’m comfortable with who I am and how I’ve chosen to live. I’ve learned to be happy with being a wife, being pregnant, being a new mom, being a mom of toddlers and pre-schoolers and 7-year olds.

Sometimes I find myself twisting, reeling in the summer storms of life, grasping for something to hold on to. But in my own way, I’m flourishing, tending the garden I’ve planted – my marriage, my children.

But the season of fall, the season Josie is so happy to twirl into, is when you reap the real harvest, right? I think of my own mom, who is like my best friend now that I'm an adult.

Not only do we have a good relationship, but she also completely adores her grandchildren. She plays all kinds of crazy games with them, lets them make terrible messes, tells them endless stories, listens to all their corny jokes, lets them eat whatever they want, buys them whatever they ask for – all because she loves them so much she can hardly bear it. I can’t help but think that they are part of the bountiful harvest she planted when she sowed her own garden back when I was small.

My wonderful, wise grandmother has moved into the years of winter’s rest – quiet, deep, sheltered. She spends her days reminiscing about the days of her youth, sharing the insights of her child-rearing days, telling me about her own harvest of grandchildren, and now, her great-grandchildren. Winter is a time to reflect and to remember.

My fellow moms, before we know it, this summer season of our lives will be over.

We all want our kids to grow up slowly, but maybe by the time they do we’ll be like Josie. Maybe we won't be sad. Maybe our children will end up being our best friends. Maybe our grandchildren will be the best thing that ever happened to us. Maybe we’ll say “Hooray! Summer is over and it’s finally fall!”

Let’s all tend our summer gardens well, so we can truly enjoy what we reap in the harvest.


-from my article for www.mentorpatch.com on 10/9/11