What I Think About: NOT Waiting for the Golden Years

A friend of mine moved away and came back for a little visit.  Since we all have kids we brought out our mom plan: go to the park so kids can play and we can talk. It worked like a charm.

While we were at the park, the discussion turned to the things we desired--a little vacay, sleeping in, a day in bed watching movies ... The audible mom sigh sounded.  And then the question came ... the question lurking in our minds but rarely spoken aloud ...

"It will happen, right?"

As in, "One day I'll get to lay in bed and watch movies again like I did in college?  "One day I'll get to sleep until ten?"  "One day I'll get to take a relaxing vacation?"

Of course we all joked that these things would happen ... as soon as our kids were out of the house.

The Golden Years.  We hear about this magical time in life when you are financially secure and not tethered down by jobs and napping infants.  Apparently this is when sleep happens and travel occurs and memories are made.  So we trudge through this day dreaming of these Golden Years.

My parents had a Golden Years plan.  They were going to have a cabin in Alaska and stay there all summer but they'd winter in the lower states.  They'd have a fifth wheel and just drive from one spot to the next seeing the country.  They'd had this plan my whole life.  They were waiting for kids to be gone and to be secure.

Then the recession hit and all that financial security was gone.  My mom got sick and died.  This was no where in the Golden Years Plan.  During the weekend of mom's memorial my dad was covered in family and screaming grandkids and my sister and I were frazzled, exhausted messes and he looked right at me and said, "THESE are the Golden Years, don't waste them."

This craziness?  This brokenness?  This exhaustion?  THESE are the Golden Years?

I looked at that man, at his shattered dreams and his regrets of waiting for "one day" rather than living each day as though it were "one day" and I knew what he was saying.  Nothing, nothing is guaranteed for us.  We can plan and save and wait but our plans, they are not set in stone.  Something like the economy or CADASIL can change everything.

We have to live and love and enjoy now because "one day" might not happen.  Living life to its full is a daily mission, not some big dream for the future.

What are we waiting for?  Are we too afraid to actually live today?  Are we too afraid of what it would cost or that it might make us humbly ask for help or give up something?  What are we waiting for?  Why do we wait to live when we could be living, really living, right now?

I don't want to wait for the stars to align to sleep in a little.  I don't want to wait until I'm on the brink of insanity to take a vacation.  I don't want my children to feel like a burden ... like I can't wait for them to leave so I can start living.

I want to live like this is my Golden Year, even when--on many levels--it feels like a Job year.

What do you desire?  What can you do to make it a reality?

What can you do to really live today?

If you want to sleep in, can you make a "sleep schedule" with your spouse alternating Saturday morning sleep in times?
If you want a day in bed, could family or friends take your kids for a night?
If you want a vacation, could you cancel cable to save for it or do a staycation?

What I think is the days go slowly but the years go quickly and I will not be waiting for some dreamy "one day" to start living the life I dream about.  It starts today because today is all I might have.

Thanks, Shell for letting me Pour My Heart Out on your blog.

Date Night {OUT}: Mother/Son, Father/Daughter

Last week Matt and I went out on dates with other people.  Don't worry, this is not scandalous.

You see, we have a beautiful little girl who just loves her daddy and whenever Matt and I are going on a date she likes to watch me get dolled up and ask questions about my level of excitement and the level of fanciness.  It's adorable.

So, Matt asked her out on a date.

We also have this son who, well, he's pretty oblivious to the whole dating scene and I'm pretty sure he's never noticed Matt and I getting dressed for a date BUT I think he's handsome and a real catch and I wanted to spend time with him.

So I asked him out on a date.

For their date, Matt planned everything.  He picked a fancy Italian restaurant and the evening's activities (going to a bookstore for a new book and out for ice cream).  Our daughter DID pick out his and hers matching outfits.  Aren't they sweet?

Ready for their "fancy" date

He's more of an active dater

Butterscotch ice cream. Mac-n-cheese.  The kid has a thing for orange foods.

Our date was a bit more adventurous.  It started at Arby's because my date wanted Mac-n-cheese (sigh).  Don't worry, I'll work on that before he asks out your kids.  We did eat in a park so at least the ambiance was good.  After dinner we played a round of mini-golf and then went out for ice cream. I think he had a good time.

This week, plan a special "date" night with your kids.  Memory makers, people.  Memory makers.

F is for Feelings

On Fridays I like to talk about Fashion or Fun date night ideas but yesterday something happened that made me want to talk about *gulp* feelings.

For me feelings is the actual F word.  I really don't like to talk about feelings.  Nope.  I don't.

But yesterday my daughter had her kindergarten end-of-the-year celebration.  Kids love any reason to party and this reason, in my estimation, is a good one.  School is almost out (yes, I'm one of the moms who can't wait, not one of the ones stocking up on alcohol to get me through the next couple of months).

So the celebration had what any six year old celebration has: juice, cupcakes, and just enough organization for it not to be totally chaotic.

Here's the thing.  I was late.  Really late.  I had a doctor's appointment and traffic was bad and I was late.  To make matters worse, I forgot the cookies.  Seriously, what mom forgets the cookies?  Needless to say, by the time I got to the party room I was willing myself not to blink so I wouldn't cry.  I really hate crying ruining my make up.

Even though I was late, I was just on time.  You see, this group of 22 little balls of energy were gathered on the reading rug watching a video their kindergarten teacher made about them.  Silly stories about what they want to be when they grow up (M said a cheerleader) and what they like to do in school (which one kids curtly replied, "nothing".  It wasn't my kid.  My kid wants to be a cheerleader and cheerleaders love school).

Anyhow, I'm watching these kids giggle and sigh and bounce around and it hit me.  This memory of a billion years ago when I was one of those little balls of energy watching a slideshow (an actual slide show ... the kind with miniature pictures you hope aren't in upside down that you have to click through) my kindergarten teacher made about my class.  "We Are The Children" was playing in the background ... on a tape recorder.  There were pictures of me standing next to "Tessie Toothfairy"--the class mascot we got photos with when we lost a tooth.  There was a picture of Brook's broken arm (I'm at least 48% at fault for the arm breaking. Gravity and a dangerously tall teeter-totter are also to blame).  Mike. Jeremiah. Jessica. Casey. Karla. Jason. Kevin. Bylle-Jo, Billie, Daniel ...  Oh how I remember the fun we had learning that S-S-S is for skunk and Q-Q-Q is for ... well, I don't remember what Q was for in kindergartner terms but it was probably quail.  I'm not sure why we need Q in kindergarten.

I sat on a rug with my little friends oohing and ahhing and giggling over my class's collective cuteness but in the back of the room, there was a mom.  My mom and she was fighting back tears.  She loved that celebration.  That slideshow. That song.  She wrote a letter to Miss Mueller thanking her for all she had done to help me become such a big girl (total sidenote: when my mom was dying Miss Mueller scanned that letter and sent it to me in a Facebook message.  She kept the letter for over 25 years.  Words are powerful stuff.  I can't express how I felt seeing those words--her words about me in her penmanship).

Watching M as my mom must have watched me, I lost the battle to those rouge tears in my eyes and I thought the thought I think so often.  I wish my mom were here.  She wouldn't have been late.  She wouldn't have forgotten the cookies.  She would have loved this celebration.  Loved seeing M blossom into such an amazing future cheerleader.

These were my feelings though.  My brokenness.  M was fine--so happy I was there (so excited they'd get to eat the cookies for snack on Tuesday since it was too late to dish them out now).  The truth is I remember loving MY mom being at my celebration.  Sure it would have been nice if my grandmothers had attended too but my memories are of my mom.  And she was there.

While I wish my mom was at M's celebration with me yesterday, I know for my daughter, one day she'll be glad I was there for her.  Even though this was an "I wish my mom were here" moment for me, for M, I'm so glad it will be an "I'm so glad my mom was there crying at that silly video" moment. Even if I was late.

It's tiny but this is the letter addressed to Miss Mueller  from my mom after my kindergarten celebration. I still get goose bumps when I see this.  Words live long, dear friends. 

What I Think About: THAT Mom

Moms are probably some of the most judgmental people I know.  Those who breast feed judge those who don't (and vice versa).  Those who stay at home judge those who don't (and vice versa).  We judge the mother of the dirty kid at McDonalds and the mom bribing her kid to stop throwing a tantrum so she can get out of the grocery store.

Lucky (?) for me, people judge me most often in a different way.

People like to come to my house and look at how clean and organized it is.  And then they like to make believe that I have it all together because my floor is mopped and there are no smudge prints on the window.

It is true.  Thanks to a sound training in home cleanliness from my mom mixed with some early tendencies toward OCD, my house is clean.  Eat off my floor--I dare you.

But don't put me in the "she's got it all together" box.  I don't live there.

Most days, I am THAT mom.

• Sometimes (and by sometimes I mean 9 times out of 10) I don't remember to tell my kids to wash their hands after they go to the bathroom or before they eat a meal.
• I will let my son watch shows on my iPhone so I can grocery shop without a meltdown.
• I've left my son in an aisle in Target when he threw a whopper of a tantrum (yes, I peeked from the end cap to be sure no evil pedophiles kidnapped him).
• I've watch my kids flick a booger somewhere and not bothered to find it and clean it up.
• My children have had cereal for dinner.
• We always have mac-n-cheese, chicken nuggets, and frozen pancakes at our house.
• I've gone out without remembering to pack diapers, wipes, pacifiers, and blankets.
• I've "not heard" my children so I could doze an extra 15 minutes in the morning.
• I've let the TV babysit my kids so I could read another chapter in my book.
• I've forgotten to give my kids a bath ... 5 days in a row.
• I've "lost" toys and game pieces and books that I simply couldn't stand to play with/read one more time.
• I've gone on vacation and not felt guilty about it.  I've even dreaded coming home (a little bit).
• I've let my kids wear outfits that don't match, were too small, and were entirely disgusting.
• I've let my kids hear music with not-so-great-lyrics.
• I've fantasized about what it would be like to not have children.
• I've let my kids leave the house with grimy faces, runny noses, and filthy hands.
• I've wished my daughter wasn't potty trained so we didn't have to pull over ever 20 minutes to let her pee.
• I've struggled with what to do when my children won't apologize.
• I've yelled in anger.
• I've spanked my children.
• I've totally lost my cool and freaked out on my children.
• I've let my kids go to bed without brushing their teeth because those teeth are gonna fall out anyway and it wasn't worth a fight.
• I've pretended not to see something my kids did in order to avoid having to deal with it.

Yep.  I'm that mom. The one who doesn't have it all together. The one who sometimes can't manage to go shopping without someone crying.  The one who would rather let her children look ratty and dirty rather than fight with them about washing their faces.

What I think is my house might always be clean and you may never (ever) see me in public in my pajamas but do NOT let that fool you.  I'm that mom--the one who does not have it together.

Are you THAT mom too?  Prove it in the comments below!


Thanks, Shell for letting me Pour My Heart Out on your blog.
 

My Mother's Daughter

Today I'm linking up with A Holy Experience and celebrating moms while making a difference for mothers in Haiti.  Please check out 1000 Moms Project and join us!  And please click here to see other submissions.

Dear Mom,

This is my first Mother's Day without you.

How surreal this all seems.  Even though I'm a momma now, it's funny how Mother's Day doesn't feel the same without you--without my mom.  I've spent years making this day about you and now, now what do I do?

When I allow myself to really sit long and feel my feelings, I feel so alone.  I've wanted to call you so many times.  To tell you how I messed up so bad and to get your comforting words and advice.  To share the funny things Pax says and to brag about what a good reader M.E. is and how kind she is to her friends at school.

Ballet recitals.  New cars.  Orange fingernail polish.

So many times I catch myself thinking, "My mom would love this" or "I wish my mom was here."

I feel so alone.  A motherless daughter.

Mother's Day is just another reminder that I won't be calling you and I won't send you a card.

I am motherless.

The taste of those words on my lips is bitter gall.  I want this grief to end.  I keep expecting it to get easier but it just gets. more. real.

I am motherless.

Though it hurts and breaks, I refuse to be defeated by this truth.  If I am to move forward, I can only do so holding firm to the truth that all things work together for my good--even this pain and grief.

This Mother's Day I just wanted to say thank you for mothering me.

• Thank you for the sleepless nights you spent feeding me, rocking me, waiting up for me, and fighting for me.
• Thank you for giving me the grace to try on different personas so I could figure out who I am and who I am not (and let's breathe a collective sigh of relief I am not orange-haired, rebellious Reagan).
• Thank you for making our house a home so homey all my friends wanted to be there.
• Thank you for letting me make mistakes and feel the consequences of those mistakes.
• Thank you for NEVER seeing me as the sum total of my mistakes.  Your faith in me was often my strength.
• Thank you for insisting I call my elders Mr./Mrs./Ms.
• Thank you for being there--when I needed to talk, when I needed space, when I needed to vent, when I needed to cry, when I needed a hug, when I needed nothing--thank you for being there.
• Thank you for squeezing my hand as you took your last breath--for that last bit of reassurance that everything was going to be okay ... even me.
• Thank you for showing me how to be a mom.  

Sacrificial.  Hopeful.  Persistent.  Enduring.  Graceful.  Merciful.  Just.  Humorous.  Kind.  Loving.

You displayed all these traits.

On Sunday morning, those sweet children will bound into my room with breakfast and a plan to head to the hills. The will shower me with sticky mouth kisses and jam hand hugs and gifts they made out of stuff they found.  I will smile and delight in the ways they bless me. In this way, I hope you are blessed.    I am the mom and wife and woman I am because of who you were.

I am mother's daughter.

What I Think About: Lessons from Children

When I think of all the "parenting rules" out there, I get pretty distraught.  I mean, I'm no where close to being super mom.

Exhibit #1--A few days ago Paxton was playing near the garbage can and emerged minutes later eating something ... bad parenting?  Nope.  I called it "morning snack."

Exhibit #2--Everyone is always saying how fun bath time is.  Know what?  I can't stand it.  Water everywhere, cleaning potty out of the water, ring around the tub ... not my idea of a good time.

While I might not be in line for an award, and I'm most definitely not licensed to give mothering advice, this mom says you can learn a lot from your little ones.

The Top Five Lessons I've Learned from My Children

1.  Sweat the Small Stuff

Did you ever notice that we aren't supposed to "sweat the small stuff" but "it's the little things that count"?  Does that seem ironic to anyone else?

To me, parents sweat the big stuff (jobs, electrical bills) but we ignore the little stuff when shouldn't it be the other way around (okay, I'm not telling you to NOT pay your electric bill but you know what I mean--right)?

My kids have done an amazing job of making me focus on what really matters--finding beauty in a butterfly, reading a good book over and over (and over), eating cookies in bed without worrying about crumbs until later.

2.  It's better to be together than to have it together

There is a huge social stigma with being a stay-at-home-mom.  I mean, since I have all this "extra" time on my hands, I better put it to good use.  So I Once a Month Cook, and buy cute clothing, and organize, and volunteer ... all to make it look like I've got it all together. 

But sometimes when I'm dusting it dawns on me I haven't laughed with my kids.  Or when I'm vacuuming that I haven't read them a story.  Or when we are running errands I'll realize it's been forever since we've gone to the park.

See my kids don't care if the house is a wreck or if I've showered or if their closets are organized by color and season and short to long sleeves.  They don't care if I've got it together.  They care that we are together.  Thank you, Pax and M.E. for reminding me that "we may not have it all together, but together we have it all!"

3.  It's okay to have BIG faith.


I was praying with my daughter the other day and she asked God to make her a chipmunk with real fish in her tummy.  I almost laughed out loud told her that might not happen but then I thought about my motivations for doing so.

If I want her to believe that God is mighty and awesome--shouldn't I?

Okay, so it isn't likely that she'll be a chipmunk but is it more important for her to have faith that God can change her if He wants to or that she be brought back to reality?

When I thought about the miracles I've seen, none of them have made sense to me.  None of them.  What a faith-based, power packed punch that prayer was.  Amazing how a child can teach you Biblical truths.

4.  You can get a lot of mileage out of a pair of good shoes.


I bought M.E. a pair of princess cowboy boots that light up.  She wore them for about a year solid.

She wears them with jeans and skirts and dresses and PJs.  She plays dolls, helps her dad with construction work, and climbs jungle gyms with them on.

Sometimes I want to scrimp and get cheap-o shoes but this lesson is well taken.  Spending some extra dough on the right pair of comfy, versatile shoes is the smart way to go.  Even if they don't light up.


5.  When all else fails, smile.

Whenver Paxton wants something he does this ear-drum breaking scream and when I look at him in horror, he gives me this darling smile and I melt into a puddle of goo and hand him whatever was worth screaming/smiling about.

When M.E. is scared she'll smile and do a nervous laugh.

The other day my kids were driving me nuts.  Nuts as in: Paxton spilled a whole container of Cherrios on the floor, M.E. spilled bubbles all over her table and tea set, and the police showed up at my door because someone called 911 "for fun."

I nearly blew my top (but you can't do that in front of the police, though I did consider begging them to take me to jail for a time out).  So I smiled.  And when the police were gone, I laughed.  Because these moments were memory makers.  Sure I could have gotten angry and lectured and dolled out time-outs but instead, I turned bad events into teachable moments.  And that's something to smile about

When it comes to parenting, I'm not perfect.  I don't have it all together.  But what I've learned is that I have a lot to learn ... from my children. I love participating in Shell's PYHO on Wednesdays!

 

What I Think About: Knowing When to be DONE (advice ladies!)

A funny thing happens to people who have same sex children.  A couple of friends, for example, have two daughters and people always ask, "are you going to try for a boy?"  I'm sure this happens with people who have boys too.

In fact, one of things I love about one of my fave bloggers--Shell at Things I Can't Say--is that she states "Mom to three boys.  Not trying for a girl."  Do you hear that?  She has 3 boys and calls that a family? Sheesh.  What's wrong with her? ;)

For me, I have a boy and a girl so no one asks me this question.  People just assume this is the "ideal" family make up so why screw it up now? Right?

Families look so different. Some people are happy with one.  Some people want 19.  My thought is, how do you know when you are done?

When I was young{er} I had this grand vision of 4-5 children.  I'm a teacher; I love kids.  But then I had a hideous pregnancy followed by a traumatic c-section and all of a sudden that 4-5 went to three.  MAX.  Trust me, being sawed in half three times is my limit.

Then baby #2 (the often-coveted son ... remind me why this is so?) came along after a delightful pregnancy where I was all but prescribed a diet of whole-fat ice cream but another c-section.  Suddenly that magical 3 number seemed all wrong.

Holding this baby in my arms I just felt like I was finished.  Our family felt complete.

My son will be 3 in May and I still do not have a desire for another baby.  4 of my closest friends all had/got newborns this past fall/winter and while I loved holding and snuggling those little treasures, I am all too happy to give them back to their moms.  Just last Friday night I watched one of those babies, 7 week old baby girl H.  I swaddled and rocked and cuddled and fed.  And I looked at my husband and stated, "if this was it--if this holding and kissing was it--I'd have another in a heart beat!"

But the truth is that holding and cuddling isn't it.  Having a baby is hard work.  Babies change everything.  You need more gear, a bigger car, and more stamina to work full time with your other kids while running on something like 45 minutes of sleep.  Being a mom is tough.

I don't want to sound selfish but I just feel done.  I feel done with not sleeping through the night.  I feel done with sore breasts and smelling like spit up.  I feel done with putting my budding career on the back burner.  I feel done with diapers and spilled sippy cups and 3 am pacifier hunting.

Don't get me wrong, I love and adore my children.  One smile from them makes everything worth it but in the end, I'm not sure another child is best for our family.

So I'm on the birth control pill--again--which I promised my mother I'd never do.  I just don't know what else to do.  I don't want to count days (I'm not good at math so I know that method will get me child #3).  Matt and I have contemplated permanent fixes but those just don't feel right either.  I'm mean, we are 99.9% certain we are done but that .1% keeps us from taking drastic steps.

I'm so confused.  I feel done.  I feel like our family is just right for us.  But I'm not ready to take any drastic steps so every month as the arrival of Aunt Flo nears I have these panic attacks of "what if."  I don't want to feel that way.

What I think is that I'm done having children but I'm confused how done I am.  I'd love your advice!

Are you done?  How did you know? I love participating in Shell's PYHO on Wednesdays!

 

Days of Play--Family Knots

Get all family members into a circle.  Put your hands in the center and grab someone else's hands.  You should be in a knot.  Now, untie yourselves.  This is a great activity to practice listening, following directions, and teamwork.

On the downside, this isn't great to do with small children.  Check out some previous posts if you'd like ideas of something to do with small children.


Bubbles
Indoor rafting
Color Hunt

Days of Play: Goodbye School

M.E.'s last official day of preschool is Wednesday.

I'm a little emotional. :(

Moving on.

Today for our special time, M.E. and I are going to pick out a nice book to donate to her (soon to be former) classroom.  This just feels like the gift that keeps on giving.

If your child is in school, let me encourage you to do the same.

Go to a bookstore and purchase an age appropriate book.

Write the date and a brief note of thanks to the teacher on the inside of the book.

Let your child color the inside cover to "personalize" the gift.

Wrap it up and give it to your teacher (though you might want to read it first!).

Happy Mother's Day!

I hope no one actually reads this post but instead, enjoys a special Mother's Day with the people they love. 

But, if you are dying to hear from me today, check out my guest post on Good Tots.  <--click that link

It's all about what I've learned ... from my children.

Happy Mother's Day!

Do Dogs Go to Heaven?

M.E. has been asking some tough faith questions lately.  "Who made God?"  "How is God God and Jesus?" "Are there dinosaurs in heaven?" and "When Bailey (her uncle's pug) died, did she go to heaven?"

I sort of want to throw my hands up in the air and go "Geez kid, I don't know!"  How do you answer these tough questions? (The egg and tree example did not help explain the trinity).

In the meantime, my brother-in-law sent me these photos. At least I'm not the only one struggling!

FYI, these churches are across the street from one another.



















Hope you enjoyed this spiritual nonsense.

Now really--how do you answer the "tough" questions?

Dear Friend

Decisions are hard to make and even though I like to joke that I can easily check YES or NO on your life's big list, the truth is, I can't.

I'm not able to fathom what you are going through and the decisions you are having to make.  I haven't been in your shoes.  But you did ask my opinion so I'll share it with you the best way I know how--with my experience.

I was completely finished with school (ha, ha, ha) before I had my first child.  I loved my job and thought I would continue working even after the Divine Miss M was born.  However, it soon became evident that I loved my child more than the children I worked with AND my entire paycheck merely covered childcare and the commute cost.  Simply put, it was more financially sound for me NOT to work.  Of course we had to move but that seemed worth it since I got to be home with my baby.

I loved being a stay-at-home-mom!  There was something to be said about being there for first steps and first words.  Sometimes, however, I got really lonely and felt like I needed something just for "me."  So I started school again and this filled a "void" for me.

Baby #2 made school a bit trickier but I made it work. And then I started working (very part time) again.  On one level it is so fulfilling to be intellectually engaged and to be using my gift of teaching but then there are times when Paxton would rather be held by Beth than me and it makes my heart sad.

Right now, as I near the end of my coursework and my degree is on the horizon, I feel this "push" to go back to work.  Why, after all, would I have this degree if I don't use it?  I keep imaging all the things I could do with a full time salary--new cars, new clothes, pay off our house in a few years ... All those scenarios are tempting--oh, so tempting!

Then I catch Paxton and M.E. playing together, giggling and asking me to join in and all of a sudden, those cars and clothes and mortgage payments don't matter.  Some day in the not so distant future my children won't think I'm awesome.  They won't want to play with me.  They'll be at school and friend's houses, and activities and I'll look back and sigh wishing, most likely, that I'd spent more time with them. I honestly can't think of one situation where I would say to myself, "Gee, spending all that time with my kids was a complete waste of time!"

So, completely ignoring financial obstacles like house payments, student loans, and possible looming adoptions, I would say, you will never regret spending time with your little girl.  In a year your college coursework will still be there but you can never get back a moment of time with your child.

As to the other child your heart so desires, this gets much more complicated.  Adoption is so much more feasible when there are two incomes to pay for it.  You don't want to finish your degree and get a job to pay off your house or buy a new car.  You want a good job to pay for a child!  So I feel like your heart is stuck--do I forsake time with my first child so I can afford the second or do I forgo pursuing adoption so I can spend time with my little girl?  This is a quagmire I can't contemplate.

When I have tough questions to answer my "go to" thought process is: "What is the legacy of my decision?"  For example, when I stopped working, the legacy with work was that I wouldn't affect students any longer; however, I was confident some other excellent teacher could fill my shoes.  The same can't be said of my role as mommy.  My legacy staying home, however, was HUGE! 

In this instance, I feel like your legacy will be huge either way. 

I've often wondered, when we seek the will of God, if we put Him in a box too much--like there is only "one way" for our lives to go and if we mess that up then we are forever ruined.  What if He loves us so abundantly that He has many paths to His will for our lives? 

Does this thought make the decision easier?  Probably not.  But hopefully it helps you know that He loves you and when you are stuck between doing one thing to be a good mom (of one) or doing another thing to be a good mom (of 2-20), luck might have it that BOTH ways are acceptable.

It's scary but we just have to take steps of faith when we don't know what's out there.  We have to trust that all things work together for our good. 

Whatever you decide please know that you have the loving, non-judgmental support of moms who have made great sacrifices for our children.   

We understand the difficulty of your decision.  We appreciate your humble heart as you seek wisdom and advice.

I don't know what's in store for you but I know that I love you! Even though I can't make these decisions for you, I hope that by knowing I am here for you either way, your burden will be lightened.

Love,
Reagan

Cutting It Off!

When I was a kid my parents and I had huge control issues over my hair.  Really, the fights were epic.  I like my straight hair long, free, and in my face.  They hated it.  They wanted me to tease my bangs and wear French braids like my sister; I refused. 

The result: years of pixie cuts.

You've seen my photos.  My round face in a pixie cut is NOT cute. 

Basically what I'm saying is that until I "took my hair" back in seventh grade, I hated my hair.  And I promised I would NEVER get into control issues about hair with my kids.  Short?  Fine.  Purple?  No problem.  Mohawk?  Whatever floats your boat.

The past few months M.E. has wanted to cut her long, flowing, beautiful hair.  I've been resisting.  Are you sure?  Are you sure?  Are you sure?  I'm pretty sure M.E. is tried of hearing that question! 

I kept thinking she wasn't old enough to make that kind of decision--that I needed to be the protector of her hair.

What I realized is that we were having control issues over her hair.  It is true that I can't put the hair back on once she cuts it off but it is equally true that it will grow again.  And it is true that she is a lovely, delightful little girl no matter what her hair looks like. 

I want M.E. to know that who she is on the inside matters more than what her hair looks like on the outside.

I want M.E. to know that I trust her to make decisions (and to live with the consequences).

I want M.E. to know that who she is is all right with me (even if I think she needs a tweak here and there). 

So on Saturday, M.E. cut off ten inches of perfectly healthy beautiful hair.  She loves that it is short and doesn't get into so many tangles.  She hasn't mentioned once that it was a mistake.  And even though I wanted her hair long, I'm diggin' her new look!

You know what is really ironic about this whole situation?  I'm NOT emotional about my hair.  It has been long, short, platinum, black, brown, red, orange, straight, permed, flipped, teased, ironed and mayonnaises. 

I hereby resolve to hold on to my original plan: when it comes to my kids' hair, what they want is fine with me!

Family Resolutions: It's Not Too Late

A few Sundays ago our local paper featured on article by John Rosemond on family resolutions.  It never dawned on me to make family resolutions but as I read through these, I really liked them.  There were 14, which is WAY too many for me, but I thought they were worthy of cutting out and hanging on the fridge as a reminder of what really matters when it comes to family.

Anyhow, I wanted to summarize them and share them with you. 

1.  We will keep birthdays simple.  No expensive "event" birthday parties.
2.  We will spend as much time helping our children develop good manners as we do helping our children get good grades.
3.  We will appropriately discipline our children and teach them to apologize.
4.  We will work as a team and assign chores.  We will do chores before we relax/recreate.
5.  We will insist that our children NOT have cell phones until they can pay for them.
6.  We will tell our children that being different is okay when they complain that they are the only ones who have to do chores or don't have cell phones.  (We will also point out that if everyone else has a cell phone then they can borrow one when needed).
7.  We will not serve customized meals.  Kids eat what adults eat.
8.  We will bond with our children but not in bed.
9.  We will keep our marriage first and refuse to revolve around our children.
10.  We will take care of ourselves and engage in adult-only activities.
11.  We will put children to bed early so that they will be well rested and we will have alone time (or couple time).
12.  We will eat together as a family six times a week (even if we are having take out).
13.  We will limit after school activities.
14.  We will help our children develop hobbies rather than buying "things."

So what do you think?  Any you like?  Any you dislike?

Personally I would add: We will have "technology free" nights where we read and We will have a monthly family game night.  And I honestly don't care with you bond with your kids.

Do you do family resolutions?  If so, what are they?  If not, have I tempted you?

Days of Play--Make a {Christmas} Wreath!

I made my first wreath this fall and fell in love.

It was cute, unique, totally my style and cheap!  But then I repeat myself.

Consider making a wreath today.

Kiddos can help you pick colors and trimming and can even help design the layout. 

Step #1--Buy your supplies.

We went for a less-is-more candy cane color themed wreath.  I nearly caved to the maroon and gold poinsettias with sparkly cardinals but Matt would have hated it.  So M.E. and I negotiated and the theme "candy cane" worked (bribing her with an actual candy cane may or may not have helped).

I got everything at Michael's for 50% off.  I've listed the BEFORE discount prices.  Wreath 5.99.  Berries 1.99.  Ribbon 1.99.  Ornaments 2.49.  Pointsettas 1.99.  Final price after discount: $7.22

Step #2--Lay out your supplies to get a "feel" for the finished look.

Step #3--Weave the ribbon and berries through your wreath.

Step #4--Add your flowers and ornaments.

#5--Hang on your door and take more photos than necessary :)

Your Words--Baby Story

And now for the baby story.

Madisen was born nearly a week late.  I labored for thirteen hours.  I was going to have her naturally (no medical interventions, with a midwife).  Serious complications led to an emergency C-Section (we're talking she was out in like two minutes).  I felt like a "loser" since she wasn't delivered "naturally."

I did not heal well with Madisen and have a weak spot in my uterus that ruled out a V-Bac so Paxton came by C-Section as well.  We got to pick his delivery date.  Everything went smoother the second time.  The biggest thrill with both pregnancies was hearing "It's a _____" since we didn't find out the gender ahead of time.

Baby's Paxton's newbie feet!

What is your baby story?  Did everything go smoothly?  Did you deliver at home?  Did you make the anesthesiologist give you the epidural in the parking lot?  Did you do it all natural?

Your Words--Pregnancy Story

I found out I was pregnant with my first child on March 17, 2005 at 5:00 a.m.  I woke Matt up to tell him and he asked if I "took the test correctly."  Of course, dear. There really aren't that many ways to pee on a stick! Ha ha.  

We told Matt's parents straight out that I was pregnant because I was supposed to help cook for a branding but instead threw up all morning and slept on the couch.  With my parents we wrote up a little poem about coming home from Mexico with a souvenir--"The best souvenir, remember, will be here in early December ... " (I should mention I got pregnant in Mexico while on a vacation with my parents.  Eww factor, big time!).

My next two pregnancies didn't make it :(  Valuable lessons learned in not telling people too early.

I found out about my last pregnancy on September 20, 2009.  I had just finished co-hosting my sister-in-law's baby shower and had a hunch.  A pregnancy test at my in-laws house confirmed my suspicions (I don't know what it is about finding these things out with family but that's how it goes with us.  I could really gross my brother-in-law out by mentioning we got pregnant in his bed.  Sorry Josh).  One of my BFF's Jessica literally guessed I was pregnant 10 weeks later ("Your face looks a little round.  How far along are you?).  We told our parents shortly after that.

This was my fave maternity picture.  Unique and retro--Love it!

Tell me about your pregnancy (ies).  Did you share the news in a unique manner?  Were you sick for nine months?  Did you only gain three pounds?

Your Words--How I Met Your Father

I met Matt at a party at the corner of Ninth and Ivinson during our early college days.  I was on a date with one of his friends (and by on a date I mean I was acting as a DD for some drunk punk who let another guy spill an entire glass of beer on me.  I should probably mention I was in a bad mood by the time I met Matt).  I was wet, smelly, and sulking in the corner of a room (which Matt thought made me look mysterious and sexy).  He came and started talking with me.  I asked him about his silver cross and we shared our testimonies.  He tried a line on me ("So, if I were to look you up in the phone book, what name would I look under?"  To which I replied, "I'm unlisted"--and I really was, "but I'd be happy to give you my number if you'd like it.)

When he picked me up for our first date his hair was yellow (a frosting accident.  This is why he stopped frosting his hair tips--thank goodness!).  We watched the Matrix and talked forever.  Our second date we never really "met up" because we didn't get off the phone ... for EIGHT hours.

And he'll LOVE that I admit this but I initiated the first smooch!

One day you'll have to tell your children all about how you met their daddy--where, when, first dates ... Practice now.

Where did you meet your husband?  Where were you?  What did you do on your first date?  Who initiated the first kiss?

Your Words--You know you're a mom when ...

You know you're a mom when:

• You've used your spit to clean another human's face.
• You've wiped a runny nose with nothing but your hand.
• You've excused yourself to "go potty" to a room full of adults.
• You've discussed color, quantity, and consistency of poop at the dinner table.
• You've started a diet that required you to not eat left overs off your kids' plates.
• You've said, "Because I said so!" or "I'll give you something to cry about!"
• You've caught yourself singing the theme song to Dora the Explorer when no one else was around.
• You've daydreamed about the days when you used to just work forty hours a week.
• You've busted a move when someone went tickle in the big potty.
• Everyone in your house has the stomach flu but you still have to comfort and entertain your husband.
• You can't see the front of your fridge through all the art work.
• You can't remember the last time you finished a dessert or treat without sharing some of it.
• You magically know where dad's keys are (under the couch), where son's pacifier went to (in the soup pot to the right the stove), and where daughter's school bag is (in the dress up bin).

Your turn!
You know you're a mom when ...

Things I Love--Being Okay with NOT being SuperMom

Today's edition of "Things I Love" was penned by a friend (which leads me to another point--I love guest bloggers.  Want to join the fun?  E-mail me at whereisthemeinmommy@gmail.com).

Rachael is the mom of two little girls, Emily and Jane, and a devoted wife to Chris.  She is the witty one in our local mom's play group.  In her "spare time" she bargain shops for rugs to replace ones that her daughter spilled bleach on and entertains her facebook masses with her humor.

Enjoy Rachael's words.  Surely you'll see why we love NOT being SuperMom and why I love "UltraMom" Rachael!

Rachael with her daughters Emily and Jane (neither of whom were named after literary icons).

As a woman, I fill multiple roles. Every woman does. I can proudly claim the titles “wife”, “mother”, “daughter”, “sister” and “friend”. But one title has eluded my capture these many years.  Despite my best efforts, I am not a “super mom”. Oh how I long to be called super. I dream about getting shirts, mugs and cards for mother’s day emblazoned with the words “Super Mom”. But super I am not. Why? I do not hold down a full time job.

Come to think of it, I kind of see the point of view of the world when they label me “Just Mom”. After all, I can’t think of anything less super than being so covered with oatmeal, snot and mystery liquids that my original clothing choice doesn’t make it past 9 a.m.. 

I certainly don’t feel super when, after feeding my toddler and my preschooler, I finally get to sit down to lunch and my toddler makes a deposit in her diaper. While changing her diaper, my preschooler will inevitably yell, “Mom, I just pooped! Come wipe me!”. By the time I return to the soggy bowl of cereal that is my lunch, the smell of feces lingering in my nostrils, I am feeling about as far as super as it gets.

The other moms at the mall don’t see me as super when I am wildly chasing after one child while trying to get the other child to come to me voluntarily by yelling at the top of my lungs (this never works, by the way).

I am sure that there are many days my excellent husband doesn’t see me as super when he comes home from work to a blubbering mess of a wife who can only blurt out the words, “tantrum… vomit… blowout… carpet… ruined”.

It’s no mystery to me why my cape, tights, “S” emblem and red knee high boots aren’t in the mail. It’s because kids don’t use labels like “super” or “stay at home” or “ultra mom” (This is what I am really longing to be called. Think it will catch on?) because I would like to believe that there are moments when my kids think I’m super. They think I’m super when I take them to the Children’s Garden and they get to take their time exploring. They think I’m super when I make a birthday cake that loosely resembles their favorite cartoon character. They think I’m super when I find a favorite lost toy or am able to produce a comforting blankie at a crucial moment. They think I’m super when I cure minor injuries with Band-Aids, popsicles and snuggles.  If my kids had their way, they’d be throwing oatmeal at the Super Mom uniform every morning. And that’s what really matters.

Something tells me that when I go back to work in a couple years and the world finally admits me to the Super club, I won’t feel any more super than I do now.  In fact, I have a sneaky suspicion that the veteran moms are right and I will someday look back on these years at home with my kids as the best of my life. Of course, by then, my fading memory will have wiped out all the bodily fluids and tantrums that marked these years. When my kids are grown and moved away, I have a feeling that all I will remember these years for the time I got to spend with my children. I will think of golden days at the park, first steps, first words, playing princess, reading books and singing songs. I will remember my children seeing snow, blooming flowers and helium balloons as great miracles. That’s super enough for me. Even if I don’t get to wear a uniform.