There have been few times in my life when I had to say I blew it. Today, I blew it. I say we eat the salad and garlic bread and call it a night.
Yes, this is that spider.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
What's For Dinner, Mom?
Believe me, tonight you don't want to know. I spent part of the day cleaning up around the house, and another part out and about picking up some things needed for the weekend. When I got home I was rushing to get dinner ready, pull my clothes in from the line before it rained, dress my nine year old in a spanish dancer costume and custom-create a hairstyle and send her off with her dad to her school's fall festival, while keeping my littlest one off me and out of danger. Spaghetti seemed a good choice - it's quick, filling, and there are usually leftovers. The meat was cooking in the skillet and I added salt, pepper, garlic, oregano, and a dash of chili powder. When I put the spices back onto the rack I hollered because I realized I had grabbed the ginger instead of the garlic powder (ew! and, in my own defense, they are the same color!) Oh well. I couldn't do anything but try to mask it, so I tossed in some extra chili powder. I added the sauce to the meat and started the water for noodles before I pulled the last of the clothes from the line. As I put the last few things in my basket, my husband, his cousin, and my daughter appeared in the back yard armed with a video camera and a blow torch (?). Apparently there was a huge, menacing spider dangling from a tree limb and they meant to annihilate it. Of course I had to see what all the fuss was about. I followed them to the edge of the woods and there he was - the biggest, ugliest, grossest spider I'd ever seen. I'm pretty sure I could see his eyeballs, and I need my vision prescription updated. My husband's cousin brought the torch up to it and we all watched with heebie-jeebies as it fell to the ground. I'll leave the rest of the details out, but suffice it to say that there is one less big spider in the world I need to worry about. We talked for a few minutes and I casually walked back in to stir the sauce - which I found spewing all over the wall, stove, and counter top. I had left the burner on high instead of bringing it down to low where I simmer (as opposed to boil) spaghetti sauce. I tried to salvage it. Half of it had boiled down and part of it was stuck to the bottom of the skillet. Scraping the loose sauce from the top of the bubbling, churning mass was almost not worth it.
There have been few times in my life when I had to say I blew it. Today, I blew it. I say we eat the salad and garlic bread and call it a night.
There have been few times in my life when I had to say I blew it. Today, I blew it. I say we eat the salad and garlic bread and call it a night.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Motherhood: A Journey or a Destination?
Before I was married and had children I would often imagine myself as a mother taking care of babies, dressing them in cute outfits, fixing their hair, feeding them, playing with them, and savoring all those sweet moments. I always knew I wanted to have a quiver full, the bigger the better. My young adult years were nearly terrifying because I was confident Jesus would return before I could get married and experience pregnancy and motherhood. As early as five years old (nearly six) I knew I wanted to be a mommy. I remember being given a pretty baby doll for Christmas that year that I completely fell in love with. I loved her so much that in my six-year-old mind and heart I ached for her to be real. Kneeling beside my bed with her in my arms I tried to convince God that if He really loved me, He would make my baby real. I closed my eyes tight and fervently prayed with all the faith in my little heart, "Please God, make her real!" I opened my eyes slowly and with great hope only to be heartbroken and disillusioned. She was still hard and plastic, painted eyes wide open.
The Lord tarried and it happened. I was blessed to be married and to be with child within that year. When my first child was born I was quite confident in my mommy skills. Nursing was tackled within a few weeks, a flexible schedule was implemented and it worked out beautifully. Sleeping through the night was typical after about six weeks, and overall, I felt pretty lucky. Baby number two was easier than the first, even after returning to work eight weeks post-partum. My daughters were four years apart with gentle natures. If this is all there was to it, then I had arrived - motherhood was conquered.
Then they started to grow up. They wanted to do things that didn't require my help or guidance. I was lost. No one told me they would want to do things that didn't include me! Then I was really heartbroken and disillusioned!
Four babies later (now thirteen, nine, four, and two) I am bewildered. Completely - in the words of one of my dearest friends in the world - befuddled. Thinking I had it all figured out was such foolishness. Knowing what I know now I laugh at the notion that I had any clue how to survive it. I fully realize that it is not a destination at all. The passing years, the tough experiences, the knock-down drag-outs, the treasured moments, the boredom, the hectic schedules - all have contributed to my experience on this beautiful journey referred to as motherhood. The journey begins at conception and extends into eternity. For me, it is the thing that defines a large portion of my soul and has replaced most other things that were once relative to my identity. First, I'm a daughter of God; second, I am a wife to my very best friend; third, but certainly not the least, I am a mother to five distinct and extraordinary souls. My constant prayer is to become the mom that God wants me to be to the four little people I have the privilege of bringing up. This journey is the most important of my life, because I am responsible to show these little people how to be productive members of society. I am responsible to teach them to be self-reliant and resourceful. The scariest yet most crucial responsibility is teaching them about Jesus and showing them how to live their lives with Him at the center. If not for this element, there would be no hope to have a successful, rewarding, or even tolerable journey... I strive (though often fail) to walk daily with Him and teach my children to do the same. One day they will begin their own journeys and I will do my best to be an example they can follow!
Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward. As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth. Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them: they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate. (Psalm 127:3-5 KJV)
The Lord tarried and it happened. I was blessed to be married and to be with child within that year. When my first child was born I was quite confident in my mommy skills. Nursing was tackled within a few weeks, a flexible schedule was implemented and it worked out beautifully. Sleeping through the night was typical after about six weeks, and overall, I felt pretty lucky. Baby number two was easier than the first, even after returning to work eight weeks post-partum. My daughters were four years apart with gentle natures. If this is all there was to it, then I had arrived - motherhood was conquered.
Then they started to grow up. They wanted to do things that didn't require my help or guidance. I was lost. No one told me they would want to do things that didn't include me! Then I was really heartbroken and disillusioned!
Four babies later (now thirteen, nine, four, and two) I am bewildered. Completely - in the words of one of my dearest friends in the world - befuddled. Thinking I had it all figured out was such foolishness. Knowing what I know now I laugh at the notion that I had any clue how to survive it. I fully realize that it is not a destination at all. The passing years, the tough experiences, the knock-down drag-outs, the treasured moments, the boredom, the hectic schedules - all have contributed to my experience on this beautiful journey referred to as motherhood. The journey begins at conception and extends into eternity. For me, it is the thing that defines a large portion of my soul and has replaced most other things that were once relative to my identity. First, I'm a daughter of God; second, I am a wife to my very best friend; third, but certainly not the least, I am a mother to five distinct and extraordinary souls. My constant prayer is to become the mom that God wants me to be to the four little people I have the privilege of bringing up. This journey is the most important of my life, because I am responsible to show these little people how to be productive members of society. I am responsible to teach them to be self-reliant and resourceful. The scariest yet most crucial responsibility is teaching them about Jesus and showing them how to live their lives with Him at the center. If not for this element, there would be no hope to have a successful, rewarding, or even tolerable journey... I strive (though often fail) to walk daily with Him and teach my children to do the same. One day they will begin their own journeys and I will do my best to be an example they can follow!
Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward. As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth. Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them: they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate. (Psalm 127:3-5 KJV)
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
You Know You're the Mom of a Cheerleader When...
... the kitchen becomes a practice area for cheer jumps at 7:30 in the morning. Standing over my coffee at the kitchen counter a while ago (yes, I got a full cup this morning, nice and hot!) we were chatting about school and the coming weekend when suddenly she erupts into a full jump, arms swinging and legs flying. I just shake my head. Clearly she is not at all concerned about where and when she bursts into cheer. Clapping and hand motions follow me everywhere. The other day I caught her teaching my son to "H-U-S-T-L-E." He's four. Now I hear it even when she's not here!
My little secret: I love it, and it is exactly what I signed up for. ;)
My little secret: I love it, and it is exactly what I signed up for. ;)
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Sanity in a Cup
There are mornings, and then there are MY mornings. I feel some days like I'm running as hard as I can to keep up with the clock but falling just short of being on time. Is there anything more frustrating?! I desperately need a cup of coffee before I can think clearly and make sure everyone is on time. It is imperative that I creep as quietly as I possibly can into my 9 year old daughter's room because I don't want wake up my 2 year old who shares the room with her. My mission every morning is to get a cup of coffee made and to swallow at least half of it down before my baby girl wakes up. Hah. What is the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result! Alas, most mornings my creeping is in vain. Baby girl wakes up at the slightest creak of the door and is on her feet faster than a microwaved kernel of popcorn. "Hi Mommy! I hun-gy. Git me?" [Sigh] It begins. Will I do it differently tomorrow? Probably not.
I sweep baby out of the crib while coaxing sister out of bed and limp out to the kitchen (because my ankle is sore from an injury that happened a few years ago and it aches every morning). Baby is dropped her into her high chair and I fumble around for a clean bowl to pour cereal into. Meanwhile, my husband and 4 year old son are still asleep, and my son usually wakes up with the mood of a grumpy 80 year old man - I try to keep my baby girl quiet while I start the coffee. (Remember - insanity!) One would think I would remember the auto function, but most days I don't. The water is poured into the machine and I am pulling the coffee bag out of the cabinet when in my peripheral vision appears a blonde-haired boy with an "I want food" look on his face. I put the coffee bag down, fumble around for bowl number two, and pour his cereal. By this time, my 9 year old daughter has entered the kitchen and is chatting mindlessly about her fundraiser and about some kid at school who poured yogurt into her lunch box.. blah blah blah... all I can concentrate on is the coffee pot. It's like drowning and reaching for the life preserver but no one will toss it out to me!! Three out of four are now eating breakfast and I finish preparing the coffee pot. I push the "start" button and feel relief flowing through me. By now baby girl has finished her cereal and is banging her spoon on the tray and clamoring to get "OUT!" In my gut I know it's a bad idea, but I clean her up and let her loose anyway.
Coffee's ready! I pull out my mug, find my favorite creamer, and pour some hot, steamy, creamy goodness. My sanity. My vice. I take a sip. It goes down hot and smooth. I savor it, that first sip of the morning. There's nothing like it. My eyes close briefly as I anticipate sip number two, but my reverie is interrupted by an argument between my son and 9 year old. Something about a cereal box and who had it first, and in the scuffle somehow a bottle of water is spilling out its contents onto the table. Seriously - don't these kids know by now not to provoke me until the first cup of coffee is gone? I grab a towel to sop up the mess while scolding my kids for arguing. In confusion I turn around mid-swipe because I don't see or hear my baby girl. Calling her does no good - I must investigate. She's not in the kitchen, dining room, or living room. Please, Lord, please.. not the bathroom... In the back of my mind I see a flash of my coffee cup on the counter, cooling off fast...
After a thorough sanitizing, I bring baby girl back to the kitchen and give her some juice. Distraction is the key here - I'll be able to finish that first cup of coffee while she drinks her juice. Agh.. it's too cold. Sixty seconds in the microwave will warm it up to near-perfection. I put it in the microwave and mash the buttons, then do a quick check of the kitchen. 9 year old making her lunch, baby girl drinking juice, son crashing up Hot Wheels on the table while he munches on his cereal. I hear doors creaking and water running in the bathroom so I know my oldest is now up and about. Beep! Okay, now a few sips. Not as great as the first, but I take what I can get.
"Mommy!" I hear from my oldest. In the bathroom she is having a breakdown because she has a football game to cheer for this afternoon and she can't get her ponytail right. Again I set my cup down. I spend a few minutes pulling her hair up and smoothing it out, painstakingly combing it against her head because she is obsessed with perfection - if there is a lump she will let me know it. Once her hair is done I check my phone for the actual time (all my clocks are set ahead a few minutes) and realize it's time to drive my 9 year old to school. I run a brush through her hair too, stick a barrette in it, then drag her out the door. Halfway to her school I realize I left my coffee cup on the counter in their bathroom. [Sigh.]
Twenty minutes later I return home and find relative calm. My husband is now up and the two littlest ones are bouncing around on our bed. My oldest is in her room getting her things ready for school. I grab my cup from their bathroom and head for the microwave again.
This over-nuked, pathetic cup of coffee holds a moment of balance and rightness with the world. I finish it, though it has lost that loveliness it possessed earlier this morning. I have high hopes as my second cup is poured and I prepare to sit a moment and ponder my day. My husband calls to me because he needs a shirt ironed. (I do this for him because there are some things I don't do.) Reluctantly, I walk away from a perfectly good cup of coffee.
Tomorrow, in all likelihood, I will do it all over again. But I promise myself that at first opportunity I will go to the coffee shop, purchase a large cup of mocha something, and I will sit in the car with the doors locked until my cup is empty.
I sweep baby out of the crib while coaxing sister out of bed and limp out to the kitchen (because my ankle is sore from an injury that happened a few years ago and it aches every morning). Baby is dropped her into her high chair and I fumble around for a clean bowl to pour cereal into. Meanwhile, my husband and 4 year old son are still asleep, and my son usually wakes up with the mood of a grumpy 80 year old man - I try to keep my baby girl quiet while I start the coffee. (Remember - insanity!) One would think I would remember the auto function, but most days I don't. The water is poured into the machine and I am pulling the coffee bag out of the cabinet when in my peripheral vision appears a blonde-haired boy with an "I want food" look on his face. I put the coffee bag down, fumble around for bowl number two, and pour his cereal. By this time, my 9 year old daughter has entered the kitchen and is chatting mindlessly about her fundraiser and about some kid at school who poured yogurt into her lunch box.. blah blah blah... all I can concentrate on is the coffee pot. It's like drowning and reaching for the life preserver but no one will toss it out to me!! Three out of four are now eating breakfast and I finish preparing the coffee pot. I push the "start" button and feel relief flowing through me. By now baby girl has finished her cereal and is banging her spoon on the tray and clamoring to get "OUT!" In my gut I know it's a bad idea, but I clean her up and let her loose anyway.
Coffee's ready! I pull out my mug, find my favorite creamer, and pour some hot, steamy, creamy goodness. My sanity. My vice. I take a sip. It goes down hot and smooth. I savor it, that first sip of the morning. There's nothing like it. My eyes close briefly as I anticipate sip number two, but my reverie is interrupted by an argument between my son and 9 year old. Something about a cereal box and who had it first, and in the scuffle somehow a bottle of water is spilling out its contents onto the table. Seriously - don't these kids know by now not to provoke me until the first cup of coffee is gone? I grab a towel to sop up the mess while scolding my kids for arguing. In confusion I turn around mid-swipe because I don't see or hear my baby girl. Calling her does no good - I must investigate. She's not in the kitchen, dining room, or living room. Please, Lord, please.. not the bathroom... In the back of my mind I see a flash of my coffee cup on the counter, cooling off fast...
After a thorough sanitizing, I bring baby girl back to the kitchen and give her some juice. Distraction is the key here - I'll be able to finish that first cup of coffee while she drinks her juice. Agh.. it's too cold. Sixty seconds in the microwave will warm it up to near-perfection. I put it in the microwave and mash the buttons, then do a quick check of the kitchen. 9 year old making her lunch, baby girl drinking juice, son crashing up Hot Wheels on the table while he munches on his cereal. I hear doors creaking and water running in the bathroom so I know my oldest is now up and about. Beep! Okay, now a few sips. Not as great as the first, but I take what I can get.
"Mommy!" I hear from my oldest. In the bathroom she is having a breakdown because she has a football game to cheer for this afternoon and she can't get her ponytail right. Again I set my cup down. I spend a few minutes pulling her hair up and smoothing it out, painstakingly combing it against her head because she is obsessed with perfection - if there is a lump she will let me know it. Once her hair is done I check my phone for the actual time (all my clocks are set ahead a few minutes) and realize it's time to drive my 9 year old to school. I run a brush through her hair too, stick a barrette in it, then drag her out the door. Halfway to her school I realize I left my coffee cup on the counter in their bathroom. [Sigh.]
Twenty minutes later I return home and find relative calm. My husband is now up and the two littlest ones are bouncing around on our bed. My oldest is in her room getting her things ready for school. I grab my cup from their bathroom and head for the microwave again.
This over-nuked, pathetic cup of coffee holds a moment of balance and rightness with the world. I finish it, though it has lost that loveliness it possessed earlier this morning. I have high hopes as my second cup is poured and I prepare to sit a moment and ponder my day. My husband calls to me because he needs a shirt ironed. (I do this for him because there are some things I don't do.) Reluctantly, I walk away from a perfectly good cup of coffee.
Tomorrow, in all likelihood, I will do it all over again. But I promise myself that at first opportunity I will go to the coffee shop, purchase a large cup of mocha something, and I will sit in the car with the doors locked until my cup is empty.
Friday, October 19, 2012
From October 12 - Face Art
The last several weeks months have been an ongoing trial for me with my 2 year old girl. She loves to color, paint, nail polish, sharpie, crayon, marker, tomato sauce - herself. I have cleaned at least 5 nail polish spills (when I find out where she's getting it I will be confiscating that stash), multiple crayon and marker masterpieces from my wood floors (thank HEAVEN for Mr. Clean Magic Erasers!!), and lots of everything from her face and appendages. Today was no exception.
sitting RIGHT NEXT TO ME.... HOW does she DO this??
sitting RIGHT NEXT TO ME.... HOW does she DO this??
From October 2.. Ouch.
Here's another one for the book.. that split second you regret running to see about a child's 'injured cry' only to slip in a puddle of her spilled juice, legs flying out from under you, sliding-into-home-plate-style,
From October 2 - My Sweet Boy.
This is long but I wanted to share, especially with my family.
My heart is so tender today.. A few weeks ago would have been my middle baby's 6th birthday. We lost him at 39 weeks + 3 days. My daughters had a lengthy conversation about it in the car recently, and Matthew has grown enough that he catches and can understand a lot of what they say. I knew we would have to talk about it eventuall
y since the girls still talk about it and it was not so long ago. He asked me a few times over the last 2 weeks about "my boy," and I explained as best I could on his level. He asked to see his pictures. I put it off, not sure if he would understand, and not sure I could explain it all without crying.
Yesterday, he was playing beside me while I was working on something and out of the blue he said, "Mommy, you didn't show me pictures of your boy. Can I see them?" I set down what I was doing and took him into my room, pulled the box, blanket, and the photo album out of the closet and sat on the bed with him and talked him through each part - the clothes, the blanket, the album, and the lock of hair. He spent a lot of time looking through the album. I was surprised how quiet he was, and his few questions showed me just how much he understood.
We finished with looking at Matthew's own baby album, and he spent a lot of time looking through it off and on, well into the evening. I told Mike about all of it when he got home and Matthew heard me. Then I changed the subject and told Mike how Matthew burst into tears suddenly and hugged me, and when I asked him what was wrong he just said he wanted his daddy. That is not unusual.. But when Matthew heard me share that with his daddy, he looked up from his superheroes and said, "Mommy, I cried because of your baby in that book." And he went back to playing. I was stunned.
At bedtime, Matthew and Ava were in the bed with us, and Matthew was playing with me while Ava wrestled with Daddy. They went out of the room and I held Matthew in my arms and asked him, "You are so special to me. Do you know why?" He said yes, and I asked if he was sure. He said no. I said, "You are extra special to me because God gave you to me just a very little while after Christian went to heaven. You made Mommy and Daddy feel happy again after being so sad. We prayed that God would send us a baby and we got you. You're my special boy." He just smiled and snuggled with me.
This morning I was making oatmeal and Matthew was sitting at the table, talking about his cars and whatever was on his little mind. Suddenly he says to me, "Mommy? Are you still happy that you have me? Am I still special?" Talk about heartwrenching. I love my boy so much.
My heart is so tender today.. A few weeks ago would have been my middle baby's 6th birthday. We lost him at 39 weeks + 3 days. My daughters had a lengthy conversation about it in the car recently, and Matthew has grown enough that he catches and can understand a lot of what they say. I knew we would have to talk about it eventuall
y since the girls still talk about it and it was not so long ago. He asked me a few times over the last 2 weeks about "my boy," and I explained as best I could on his level. He asked to see his pictures. I put it off, not sure if he would understand, and not sure I could explain it all without crying.
Yesterday, he was playing beside me while I was working on something and out of the blue he said, "Mommy, you didn't show me pictures of your boy. Can I see them?" I set down what I was doing and took him into my room, pulled the box, blanket, and the photo album out of the closet and sat on the bed with him and talked him through each part - the clothes, the blanket, the album, and the lock of hair. He spent a lot of time looking through the album. I was surprised how quiet he was, and his few questions showed me just how much he understood.
We finished with looking at Matthew's own baby album, and he spent a lot of time looking through it off and on, well into the evening. I told Mike about all of it when he got home and Matthew heard me. Then I changed the subject and told Mike how Matthew burst into tears suddenly and hugged me, and when I asked him what was wrong he just said he wanted his daddy. That is not unusual.. But when Matthew heard me share that with his daddy, he looked up from his superheroes and said, "Mommy, I cried because of your baby in that book." And he went back to playing. I was stunned.
At bedtime, Matthew and Ava were in the bed with us, and Matthew was playing with me while Ava wrestled with Daddy. They went out of the room and I held Matthew in my arms and asked him, "You are so special to me. Do you know why?" He said yes, and I asked if he was sure. He said no. I said, "You are extra special to me because God gave you to me just a very little while after Christian went to heaven. You made Mommy and Daddy feel happy again after being so sad. We prayed that God would send us a baby and we got you. You're my special boy." He just smiled and snuggled with me.
This morning I was making oatmeal and Matthew was sitting at the table, talking about his cars and whatever was on his little mind. Suddenly he says to me, "Mommy? Are you still happy that you have me? Am I still special?" Talk about heartwrenching. I love my boy so much.
From September 29 - Crying Over Spilled (Green) Paint
My phone is dead and won't charge. Got a get-together tonight. Hubby has to work (insert gripe here sprinkled sparsely with gratitude). Van battery is 3/4 dead... not taking charge. Got things to do so at 8 am I took hubby's car to Home Depot to grab a quart of paint in the bright green my living room is painted. Imagine my horror when I grabbed the bag to find it (the bright green paint) spilled on the front seat.. of my HUSBAND'S car (cue hysterics). Thanks Home Depot paint guy... the lid was completely off the can. I was in shock and pulled the whole bag onto my lap before I realize what I was doing. I spilled paint all over the passenger side, across the console, onto the steering wheel, into my lap, then splashed it across the open door. Not to mention my now paint-spattered capris and my Etienne Aigner PURSE! Is it Friday the 13th or something????? I felt better after an "everything" bagel from Einstein Bros and some pumpkin spice coffee. What else will today bring? Or should I ask?
From September 28th - Helping With the Laundry!
Somehow my 2 year old managed to shove half the newly washed and line-dried clothing I had just brought inside into the washing machine... that was filling for the next load... I just turned my back for 15 seconds....
I LOVE that she wants to help. I DETEST having to undo her help.. O.o
She's cute though, isn't she? ;)
From Facebook to Blog - My Life in Paragraphs
My family is nuts.
That's the short version. I have made a habit of sharing our wild and crazy moments on Facebook and I was encouraged to compile those recorded moments and write a book. Well, I have non-committal tendencies, so as a precedent to a book I chose to begin a blog. As I am sure you can relate, in the moment, none of those typically inopportune, chaotic incidents are funny; but in retrospect, I have to say that I find myself going back more than once to read my Facebook posts about my family. More often than not, I realize how hilarious my life really is some days.
I won't try to convince you that I am a great housewife. (I'm not.) I won't imply that my life is perfect. (It's not.) I won't showcase only the best and perfect moments of our lives to make you think I've got my junk together. (I don't.) What I see is what you'll get - a bunch of imperfect people scrambling around trying to figure life out and not get electrocuted, clotheslined, hot-wheeled (what happens when you step on a stray car), lego-ed (I think this one is self-explanatory), or left at school until 5:40 p.m. by accident....
I'm kind of excited about this!
About My Kids
All four of my children are different. They like different things, they feel differently about things, they react differently, they all have different levels of energy and ways of releasing that energy. Several things are true about all of them though.
- Each one of them is genuinely, irreversibly, and completely loved.
- Each one of them is a precious, individual gift from our Creator.
- Each one of them knows how important they are to this family as a whole.
I hope you will enjoy these little peeks into our mostly comic, but sometimes serious lives. What can I give you? Hopefully a concoction of a little perspective, a little encouragement, and some laughs for the perfect finish.
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