Saturday Sweethearts

A week from today, these two smiling cherubs will be graduating from college. Both will hold bachelor's degrees and both will be looking for jobs in their respective fields, essentially signaling to the world that they are indeed adults, they've made it, done it.

My job as their "mommy" is finished. I'll never stop being their mom, of course, but we are equals now, learnéd adults with professional degrees and, for them, new places to call home. In my mind and heart, they are still the little smiling faces in some of these photos. I never want them to go back to that because I'm madly in love with who they've become and who they're going to continue growing to be. But I sometimes wish for a few more moments with them at those stages, just to soak in their giggles and silliness and sweetness and love.

There are a thousand things I wish I could have done with them and for them. A million things I wish I could have taught them. A bazillion times I wish I'd listened better. Still in all, they're awesome human beings. And I praise God (not for the first time!) for allowing me to be their mother. 

 

Remembering...

Sometimes, when you think too much time has passed, you head back to something or someone familiar, and it all clicks back into place...at least for that moment. Like friends who haven't seen each other for decades and come back together like no time has passed, as if they both went home at the end of a day and returned in the morning. "As I was saying..." one might say, without missing a beat.

Sometimes.

Life has a strange way of taking us on twists and turns, uphill and downhill, back and forth. Memories flood our brains, holding us back or pushing us forward. 

We're all a product of those memories, our past times and events and happenings -- good and bad. How do we reckon with them? How do we not allow them to drag us down or pull us under?

It's a difficult process. Certainly doable. 

Children are mirrors of those memories. They go through ages and phases that we can somewhat remember, that become very clear when we watch our offspring go through them. Of course, their experiences are different. But the fuzzy recollection of our own experiences comes back into focus...at least for that moment.

And we remember. And the memories, like old friends, take us on journeys back to times that feel forgotten yet are still in the foreground. 

"As I was saying..." the memory says, without missing a beat.

Thoughts on Mother's Day

My kids are always asking me if I loved them more when they were little.

I love looking at their photos and talking about how sweet they were and sharing memories of funny or poignant moments with them.

I remember first teeth and them learning to walk and the way they marveled at just about anything new and exciting. They loved being outside and had a cute way of pronouncing things. I loved watching them learn to read and write and draw. I loved making things with them and celebrating countless birthdays, half-birthdays, and holidays with them. Easter eggs and Christmas visits to New York to see the Macy's Santa with the deli breath. "Picnics in the Park" on the Eve of Christmas Eve. Early morning trips to Chincoteague in the summer and the fall and the beginning of a brand new year. Singing children's songs and then '80s songs at the tops of our lungs. Knowing all the words to the Veggie Tales, especially the end theme song from QWERTY.

Career goals: Fashion designer, hotel designer/owner, architect, marine biologist, inventor.

I remember how earnest they were about certain things and how they tried very hard to understand a complex grown-up world with the simple mind of a child. How they tried to share their thoughts on politics or movie stars or books they read.

It's as though now they see that child as someone else instead of a younger and smaller version of themselves.

How could I love that child any more than I love the grown (or growing) version I see at present?

Perhaps the past really is a foreign country...and those little people in the photos and memories are merely the residents, long gone as the years progress.

No, dear children, I couldn't possibly love that little-person version of you more than I love you now...for you are that little person now a bit bigger. And I love that bigger person even more today than I did yesterday.

If I Take the Time

A memory:

When Ethan was five years old, he gave me a crumpled napkin that I assumed he wanted me to throw away.

I laughed and told him to throw it out.

He insisted that I open it that it was "a gift," he said.

I did and saw this inside.

"It's my love!" he said with a big smile.

And afterwards I realized that I nearly missed it in my haste to toss out what I thought was trash.

Sometimes we need to slowdown and enjoy these precious moments.

Book Review: Jocelyn's Box of Socks

I am a huge lover of children's books. It's no secret. I've been collecting them since I was a teenager. Working for Highlights for Children and Boyds Mills Press was a dream come true. Me surrounded by kids' books? Game on.

So recently I noticed that the wife of a friend (from long ago) had a children's book coming out this month, and I approached her about reviewing it on here. I think it's quite an honor to promote a fellow writer, and I plan to make these reviews a regular part of my blog.

Without further ado...

Jocelyn's Box of Socks
Written by Kristen L. Jackson
Illustrated by Tino Santanach

From the first look, Jocelyn's Box of Socks is full of cheer. The cover is bright and pink, and the illustrations are fun and cartoon-like.

To me, it was all kinds of happy before I even opened the cover.

The beauty of children's books is their appeal to multiple audiences. A good book in this genre will offer an engaging story for children with enough substance for teachers/parents/grandparents/librarians to be able to use it for teaching a lesson or discussing a value or something similar. No preaching. Many kids learn best from mimicking what they see/hear demonstrated around them. It gives them a "this is what to do" kind of lesson without just saying "don't do this."

In Jocelyn's Box of Socks, we learn from the very beginning (even in the title) that the main character, Jocelyn, loves socks. She "loves all kinds of socks -- except boring, dull, plain old ordinary, all-white socks." The reader finds out she wears them in all seasons and with all kinds of shoes. She wears them because they make her feel happy.

Then one day, Jocelyn receives a box of socks from her grandparents. Since they know that she loves socks of all kinds, they send her a box of socks with different smiley emojis on them. Each pair is a different smiley emotion. Jocelyn is instantly in love and, after (unsuccessfully) trying to wear them all, she has to decide how to choose which ones to wear. She makes the decision to wear the socks that match her mood, starting with the happy faces. After a series of events in which she has to continually change her socks to match her current mood, she feels confused and frustrated as to what to do. She consults her brother with her quandary, and he suggests that she just wear the socks that she wants to, no matter what mood she feels. She loves this idea and even sees that she can mix and match her socks no matter what her mood because wearing socks makes her happy.

The book has a lot of positives beyond the story and pictures. The underlying theme of talking about emotions and how they can change is a gift to teachers, especially of younger kids who may not be able to verbalize about feelings just yet. The cadence and repetition of the kinds of socks Jocelyn likes furthers the fun and encourages kids to join in.

All in all, Jocelyn's Box of Socks is a fun and bouncy book that opens discussions about how we all have emotions -- big and small, good and bad — and they can change quickly. A bonus classroom guide is included in the back with discussion questions and activity suggestions.

Release date is May 28.



Enjoy!!

Friday Fun — and Frogs

I have always been a fan of frogs. I got a large stuffed frog toy named Flippo for Christmas when I as five. He was my best friend and confidante and helped me immensely through the many moves my family made in the years that followed.

So I’m using this blog post to promote a fantastical frog book.

Check it out and enjoy!!

Adorable and fun frog book by a favorite author and poet.

New Year, Old Reflections -- 2017

My favorite thing to buy at the beginning of each year was the Life magazine "Year in Pictures." My parents had a few from over the years, and I loved looking through them at the moments in time that were captured through the photojournalist's lens.

Here's to looking back at 2017 through our pictures. So many photos (whittled down from 1,000s to a mere 400 or so)...and so many smiles -- many, many more than the last few years.

God is good to us! He has carried us through quite a lot in the past few years, especially. And being able to recap the year through photos is always a joy. Seeing memories forgotten already...truly priceless.

In an age of constantly changing technology, what are your favorite ways to keep memories alive year to year?

View on Flipagram

Should old acquaintance be forgot,

and never brought to mind?

Should old acquaintance be forgot,

and old lang syne?

CHORUS:

For auld lang syne, my dear,

for auld lang syne,

we'll take a cup of kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

And surely you'll buy your pint cup!

and surely I'll buy mine!

And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We two have run about the slopes,

and picked the daisies fine;

But we've wandered many a weary foot,

since auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We two have paddled in the stream,

from morning sun till dine^†;

But seas between us broad have roared

since auld lang syne.

CHORUS

And there's a hand my trusty friend!

And give me a hand o' thine!

And we'll take a right good-will draught,

for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

A Mother's Pain

My heart hurts. It hurts with a pain that only a mother can feel when her heart breaks for her children.

I write this in the moment to release the feelings that have been building -- literally -- for years. I know in this moment of pain that a moment of joy is nearby -- God is good ALL the time -- and so I write this now, while I am feeling what I am feeling.

It's odd, knowing what your own mother may have felt for you at some point in her mothering journey. Being able to identify is what links us as humans, as family.

I have yet to understand what makes some people "friend magnets," while others are stuck watching from outside, noses pressed against the window panes.

......

That moment that your daughter looks at you and says, "If I were beautiful, people would want to be friends with me."

There is no answer to this. I think she is already beautiful. Her father thinks she is already beautiful. Her brothers think she is already beautiful, as do her grandparents and aunts and uncles and many, many adult friends.

And, lest you think this is a self-pity plea of support, it is not...it is exactly what is happening in the life of a young girl, spreading her wings and trying desperately to fly among her peers, hoping to find a -- even just one -- friend to glide above the treetops with.

How do you answer this? What do you say?

God made you absolutely perfectly, sweet girl. You are absolutely loved and cherished.

But not necessarily by anyone your own age. And I don't understand why either.

This isn't a story of friendships lost in silly tiffs. This isn't a girl who hasn't been kind (though she isn't perfect and probably has had her moments of unkindness, conscious and unconscious).

This is a case of a girl, desperate for friendship, who finds that no one really wants to be with her. Or, when they do, it's only if nothing better is happening.

Many would claim it's because we chose to school her at home. I'd agree, if I hadn't experienced the same issues when I attended public school in a brick-and-mortar school. Or if we hadn't paid lots of money having her participate in a homeschool group in order for her to have "socialization."

But, as it turns out, this homeschool group did nothing but begin this process of "learning" about life and the erosion of her self-esteem.

Girls who excluded and verbally bullied her, asking her if she was special ed or autistic. Scoffing at her when she sat with them at "their" table. She moved to the boys' table...and eventually experienced the same thing when they suddenly reached the age of wanting to "be cool." She tried the girls' table again...and finally chose to sit alone. Where was the teacher in all of this? Oblivious. Or, worse, criticizing her artwork and telling her she couldn't draw, so why bother. In third grade. When she was 8 years old. She'd tell me what was happening, and I'd try to encourage her. I'd tell her she needed to try to "toughen up" (isn't that what the old experts say?). Don't wear her heart on her sleeve. Any number of clichéd platitudes. I'd speak to the teachers, who would still be oblivious and say she was fine, doing well. Did they see her pain? Did they see her loneliness? All the while, my heart broke for her. Finally, we stopped going.

Then came Sunday School and youth group. Church should be the place of refuge. A place where she should have found some comfort and love from fellow students. (Of course, it is full of sinners. We're all sinful.) She fled from Sunday School one time when she went to sit down at a table of girls, and they all moved around so there was no room. No one -- not even her teachers -- wondered where she went. Then another time she went to sit on the big beanbags only to have the others race ahead and make sure every one of the them was filled. No room for you, sweet girl. We talked to the youth pastor, asked him what we could do. He said to toughen up. Kids'll be kids. We talked to her teachers, but they were oblivious. We eventually moved churches after we began to experience the same treatment as adults.

It turns out that youth group is only for the popular. If you're not popular, you mean nothing so don't bother coming. And, B-T-Dubs, we won't miss you. (Popularity has no place in the church. Ever.) Not even serious health issues made anyone rally around her. She was talked over. Kids walked away when she was mid-sentence. Someone even said to her, "They only do that because you're not very interesting." We talked to the youth pastor, asked him what we could do, how we could change this -- expressed how sad she felt at youth group. He told us that sometimes you have a group of friends you're comfortable with. You don't really want any new friends. So look for others who don't have that yet. Or translated: Toughen up. Youth group, in his mind, is for the unsaved. The group is constantly changing, so he wants to draw the ones in who don't know Jesus. You others? Do you want love and support and prayers? Too bad.

Dance class.

Glasses made everything change for her. She could see again....but she could see the backs of the girls who wanted nothing to do with her. We got her contacts. Nothing changed. Even the teachers didn't like her. I sat outside a classroom one time. All I heard was the teacher yelling her name. Over and over. She tried out for company three times. She never got accepted. They didn't want her. Toughen up, everyone said. You have to toughen up if you want to make it in life.

She started an online group for cyber schoolers, trying to give them friendships in the forum they all felt most comfortable: online. She seemed to make some nice friends. Then one guy joined and decided he wanted to control the group. Like putting poison in a well, he killed the group. The things he and another girl wrote to her -- witnessed by Stuart and me -- were wrong. These kids were lauded by others in the group, even the ones who initially felt on her "side." They were blocked from the group, but the damage was done. The group unraveled and friendships changed. Sometimes it's hard to know exactly what is meant in typed words since there is plenty of reading between the lines...but there was not doubt with this.

At school, she started an online newspaper in March. She organized it all and ran it all. By the time she resigned as editor-in-chief, she had 115 members and 8 advisors. She left in November after a 45-minute phone call from a school board member, chastising her for forgetting her story (well past the point of publishing even before the newspaper started) in the previous issues. This board member saw it as racist and exclusive. It was apparently unacceptable. It was impossible to understand why this woman's knickers were in such a twist, but she managed to get the other school staff members on her side, changing the intension of the newspaper as a means for students to write and get their news out into a pet project for her. Ridiculous.

.......

It's hard when you march the beat of a different drum. It's hard to feel like the "ugly duckling," being different from the rest. You desperately want to find someone, anyone who is like you. Like Anne of Green Gables, you just wants a bosom buddy, someone who will be there.

Don't tell me your child has been there if your child has had at least one good friend in her life. Our daughter has not. While visiting her, her friends have texted with other friends or boyfriends, talked over her, invited other friends to join the visit, phoned other friends, or changed their plans because something better has come up.

Stuart won tickets to a local baseball game this summer. We thought it might be fun for her to ask some of her friends to go. She asked them about a month ahead of time. Not ONE responded. A week before the game she asked if they could go...they each casually told her it wouldn't work. She was crestfallen. If she'd known earlier, she could have asked others. In the end, the tickets went unused.

As a mom, I wish that I could fix this for her. I wish that I could understand. I tell her how proud we are of her...how much we think she's beautiful. But, while I know that she accepts this and loves us back, it isn't the same as someone her own age showing her the same feelings through friendship.

So my heart hurts.

But only for a little while.

Psalm 46^[a]

 

For the director of music. Of the Sons of Korah. According to alamoth.^[b] A song.

 

¹ God is our refuge and strength,
    an ever-present help in trouble.
² Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
    and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
³ though its waters roar and foam
    and the mountains quake with their surging.^[c]

⁴ There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
    the holy place where the Most High dwells.
⁵ God is within her, she will not fall;
    God will help her at break of day.
⁶ Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
    he lifts his voice, the earth melts.

⁷ The Lord Almighty is with us;
    the God of Jacob is our fortress.

⁸ Come and see what the Lord has done,
    the desolations he has brought on the earth.
⁹ He makes wars cease
    to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
    he burns the shields^[d] with fire.
¹⁰ He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
    I will be exalted among the nations,
    I will be exalted in the earth.”

¹¹ The Lord Almighty is with us;
    the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Birthday Boy!

Every birthday brings with it a chance to reflect. ...on the speed of time, the size of our children, and how important it is to love these kids -- each and every day -- with our entire beings.

This is our little Valentine boy...

This is him today.

 

 

14!

Wow!

And, best of all, he is 14 on the 14th, his star birthday. And he is definitely our star today!!

Happiest Birthday, Budboy! We love you more and more everyday!!

Wordless Wednesday

Peace

Sweet baby feet

There's a song that plays at the end of Ethan's instrumental bedtime lullaby CD that is so peaceful and sweet that I find myself nearly crying each time I hear it play over the monitor. It conjures up so many memories of when all three of my children were much smaller, and life seemed simpler.

I know. I know. Those of you with smaller children do not think that life feels simpler.

But maybe it's because I feel like I've crossed the Rubicon with my older two munchkins, and life has become decidedly more "hands-off" in some ways. Somehow that happens when they reach "double digits."

Not that they don't still enjoy a cuddle or two...or three. But they're definitely their own people, marching ever closer to college and work...and independence.... And with that comes planning and worrying and learning...and dealing with new emotions...and...and...

When they were small, life's routine had a cadence of sorts. The beat of the day moved with feeding times and diaper changes. There were storytimes and naptimes and cuddletimes and outside playtimes. To some it might have seemed mundane, but there was a peace in it -- a sense of wellness that came in knowing that everything was under control.

Now, there is just running here and there from school to activity to chores to bed. No more quiet reading times. Very few walks to the library or park. Everything must be very deliberate, planned or else missed.

Sigh.

And yet, for the moment, I will listen...and remember...the peace.

Eating Crow...Gracefully

Recently, my job at the newspaper has given me more than the usual amount of opportunities to teach my kids important lessons. It seems the busier I get -- ie. the more stories I take on -- the less organized I am and the more mistakes I make.

Sigh. 

Mistakes are, of course, a part of everybody's life in some way or another...especially as children when we're "learning the ropes" in life, so to speak. So it's not an unusual or uncommon lesson to teach.

Just hard sometimes.

Sigh.

Still, that's when it becomes such a valuable one. 

Through my attitude and actions, I am showing them how to accept mistakes and fix them properly...and, hopefully, gracefully.

Basically: Eat crow.

In today's world, so many people want to hide from their mistakes. They want to pretend nothing happened and just let things roll by. It's an age of "it's not my fault."

I must admit that it's very tempting to join in.

But, while "crow" isn't very tasty, and I won't be perusing Allrecipes.com for crow recipes anytime soon, it feels so much better to do the right thing and make sure to admit my faults, apologize, and move on.

After all, a little "crow" never hurt anyone... Because, look! I'm still here.

A Few Ethanisms

"Out of the mouths of babes," says the old cliched saying.

When my older two kids were a bit younger, I used to jot down what I called "Emilyisms" and "Edwardisms," funny little quotes that I picked up along the way of their early kidhood. That's the thing about little ones. As they learn about language and life, they say the darndest things.

Ethan, of course, is no exception.

*   *   *

Today, he was singing a favorite kids' song in a low growl-ly voice. "I'm gonna catch you...you better run...I'm gonna catch you. Here I come."

I overheard it as I was sitting close by and said, "Wow! That sounds ominous."

"I'm not ominious," he said, in protest. "I'm not an ominous boy."

*    *    *

Stuart was heading out the door for work.

Ethan hugged him, kissed him, and said, "Drive carefully."

"Okay," Stuart answered.

Ethan looked up at him and laughed. "You're s'posed to say, 'Always,'" he informed him.

"Okay," Stuart said. "Wanna try again?"

Ethan nodded and stood on tippy-toes to hug and kiss him again. In his mind, "try again" mean the entire scene.

*   *   *

On Easter, we decided to do our egg hunts one at a time this year.

We handed Ethan a plastic basket to gather his eggs, and he said excitedly, "Oh, goody! I just love going trick-or-treating."

*   *   *

Giggle-giggle-snort!