Thanksgiving Thoughts

It has long been thought that we shouldn’t have just one day for being thankful. And, indeed, in reality we do not. We are thankful all year long in lots of ways. 

For me, this year’s holiday brings with it some grieving along with thanksgiving. I remember that this is the first Thanksgiving without my Uncle Bob and my friends, Norma and Kelly. I think of my Aunt Barbi and cousin Marshall and Norma’s brother and his family and Kelly’s husband and children. I can’t imagine how empty that chair once occupied by those loved ones will feel this year.

 

And this year will be our first without two of our kids joining us as they each celebrate with their significant other’s family. It’s absolutely right and good that they get to do that (I never had to do that because of Stuart’s family all being in England), but it still feels hard and heavy for me to handle. I know it will get easier as the years progress, but I’m still struggling at having a mostly empty nest.

 

Sometimes the grief hits me in waves of tears as I look at the photos of them when they were younger or watch videos of other people with their “littles.” Sometimes it’s just a numbness, making me go through the motions of existing. I remember reading about “empty nest syndrome” when I was a younger mom and thinking of how nice it would be to have some breathing room…

 

Breathing room. Ha. What I would give now for one more crushing pile-up hug from all of them. 

 

The very essence of motherhood is raising kids to let them go. It’s right and good and as it should be. Right after that final push of releasing them from my womb, we had but 18 years to love and raise them in the safety net of our family unit. I knew from the start it would be hard – both along the way and when it was time to let them go – I guess I didn’t realize just how hard it would be.

 

The problem for me, and many moms like me, is that I ended up building my life around my kids and their activities. They learned at home. We went on errands and adventures together. I did their laundry and bought their favorite foods and drinks. Sure, it got harder to keep up with all of it once they got older and scattered around the area. But it gave me a purpose, which I still very much have with our 16-year-old, but it’s just shrunken down to fit one kid now, instead of three. And when you’ve been stretched to keep up with three there’s a lot of extra room for rattling around with just one. And the dynamic changes.

 

All of this is not to say that I regret any of it. As I tell my kids now, I love them more than I ever loved them as little people because I’ve loved them longer now. I love them for who they were but also for who they are at this very moment.

 

In reflecting on the holiday and being without them, I can thank God for all the holidays we had together with them. I can thank God that they can celebrate as adults with more people who love them, that they can cook in their own homes and share good food together with more than just us. 

 

That is good and right and as it should be.

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

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. 

 

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.

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.

Mom Law

There are some things in life that defy explanation. One such thing is something I've deemed the "Mom Law of the Universe," and that's the compulsion of moms everywhere to say things that apparently don't need to be said. That are so blatantly obvious or unnecessary that they provoke the stereotypical teenager "eyeroll and sigh."

Com'on, Moms. You know what I'm talking about. Uh-huh. Yup. Been there, done that, right?

Yet somehow, despite the fact that we know our kids would never do whatever we're about to ask them not to do, we have to say it. At this point, it's not even a matter that self-control could stop.

We. Have. To. Say. It.

For instance, when they leave for a visit with friends, we always say "Behave." or "Be good." Really, if we didn't say it, would they act like monsters?

Maybe it stems from the fact that we have to constantly remind them of such things when they're toddlers. No one comes into the world knowing the rules of the road, so to speak. Most kids, as toddlers, will touch things unless they are reminded not to touch ahead of time. More often than not, kids will not remember to use their inside voice in a theatre the first time they go to see the symphony. Nor will they sit in a seat and eat a meal if they are not told that that's what we do. It's just not part of their makeup.

Just because they see other people doing it doesn't mean they'll know that that's what they're supposed to do, too. There's too much distracting them.

So at what point do we stop reminding them? Surely, they've learned a bit since toddlerhood. And even more surely we should have learned what they've learned since toddlerhood.

Since I haven't quite gotten to that part of motherhood, I honestly can't say. Though I can say with some certainty that the urge happens a little less often...either that, or it's getting easier for the kids to "smile and wave" instead of roll eyes and sigh.

But whatever the reason, we remind them, for goodness sake, be good!

Birthday Blessing

I've been blessed with a birthday buddy.

Well, to be honest, I have many, many birthday buddies, some of whom I actually know. With only 365 days in a year, there aren't a lot of choices for making our debut, right? We're bound to hit somebody else's birthday.

But this birthday buddy is special because I gave birth to this buddy.

Emily Susanne:

17 years ago today.

It's not MY day. It's YOUR day. It's OUR day. Before God created the world, He knew exactly which day you would arrive...and I would arrive. It just so happened that He chose those days to be exactly the same.

Thank you for sharing your special day with me. I love you even more for it!

.......................

I remember turning 17. I remember being 17. Wow! How can I be a mom of someone that age?

So much -- good and bad -- is happening in your life. So many exciting -- and daunting -- changes lay ahead. So much excitement. Be glad. Feel blessed. God has given you a gift!

Here is a poem (one of my very favorites) by Minnie Louise Haskins that might help you as you embark on this new age:

God Knows

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”

And he replied: “Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”

So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night. And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.

So heart be still:
What need our little life
Our human life to know,
If God hath comprehension?
In all the dizzy strife
Of things both high and low,
God hideth His intention.

God knows. His will
Is best. The stretch of years
Which wind ahead, so dim
To our imperfect vision,
Are clear to God. Our fears
Are premature; In Him,
All time hath full provision.

Then rest: until
God moves to lift the veil
From our impatient eyes,
When, as the sweeter features
Of Life’s stern face we hail,
Fair beyond all surmise
God’s thought around His creatures
Our mind shall fill.

Wordless Wednesday

Mom Sense

Blog "hopping" on this subject from : Mummy Muddles' post here.

*  *  *

I'll start with a preface to this post stating that this is merely a record of my thoughts and opinions on the subject, not the "be all to end all." I love to debate, but I love people more so I am very ready and able to agree to disagree on most subjects.

Phew.

That said, my mind is going on overdrive on this subject.

I will not post this photo on my blog because, while I am in total agreement (read: TOTAL AGREEMENT) with breastfeeding a baby -- of any age you choose -- I don't want to be smacked (literally) in the eyes with a photo of any mom doing it.

Sorry.

I know you have boobs, Time magazine mom, and they were created for this purpose. Yay for you! I have a pair, too.  But I also believe that God asks us to be modest with our special body parts. Modesty does NOT equal prudishness. Because, after all, ladies, we want to be treated with respect and not treated as a sexual object, and yet we whip out our breasts whenever it's deemed "necessary" to prove that we're "all that."  It's like that old Bill Cosby sketch of Adam and Eve..."Com'ere...com'ere...com'ere! Go-away! Go-away! Go-away!"

Frankly, I think it's all a bit too confusing for the opposite gender -- especially as a mom raising two boys.

Okay. I'll expound more on that subject another time. Back to the photo.

So I'm looking at it and the first thing I think is: "NO WAY is this kid 3 years old. I mean, check out his sneakers. They're nearly the same size as his mom's."

I have a large 3-year-old. He is about 2 years ahead of himself size-wise...but -- wait for it! -- I'm 5'9" and my hubby is 6'7". And we're big people. So, like his extra-large siblings, he isn't gonna be a small guy.

And this lady? She's slightly built, with thin arms like spaghetti and small feet. You really want me to believe that she birthed this monstrously-sized kid who actually looks bigger than my already-huge preschooler? Really?

Sigh.

So I feel skepticism from the first glance at the photo and caption.

Now to the photo's subject matter (I didn't read the article because 1. I'm not a Time magazine subscriber and 2. I don't agree with attachment parenting, which is a whole different blog post...in the distant "someday.")

I didn't breastfeed any of my three babies. And I didn't discourage or "trash-talk" or criticize anyone who did. In fact, the feeling of "having to hide their breastfeeding from the world" that many moms feel was how I felt about bottle-feeding.

I bottlefed (with love, of course, as the formula containers state...as if there's any other way to do it, really) and usually faced stares and shaking of heads and even some cries of indignity...because I wasn't doing what was "best" for the baby.

Okay. And making sure a baby is fed isn't doing what is best for the child?

Without knowing or understanding a person's backstory, I really think we need to be careful how we judge. I'm not here to defend how I fed my babies. They're 14, 11, and 3...way past the point of worrying about that. They're all advanced learners, have no food allergies (praise God! not my choice of feeding methods), and have been healthy, happy, well-adjusted kids (again, praise God! not my choice of feeding methods).

But wait! How is any of that possible?  I didn't breastfeed!!

No! And I'm cyberschooling them! Gasp! And we limit their outside involvements to one or two activities! Gasp! Because we want to spend as much time -- gasp! gurgle! choke! -- as we can with them.

But....that's our family.

Not your family...or our neighbor's family...or the Time magazine cover woman's family.

Ours.

We all make choices for our own families and our own situations to fit with our own personalities. No one should judge another merely because she chooses something different for her family.

There's so much judgement and so much anger and so much criticism in the world today. Isn't motherhood (and parenting, for that matter) hard enough without adding in the worry of offending someone else with our own choices??

How's about some support for a change?

Walk with me. Hold my hand. Support me, if I need it. Give me an ear...and even a shoulder to cry on, if necessary. And I'll do the exactly the same for you. I've got your back because I love that you love a little person (or two or three or more) that much, too.

It just makes sense.

A Memorable Mother's Day

Lots can be said about the special once-a-year day set aside to celebrate mothers...

For me, it's the one day that is all mine -- at least for the moment.

Having a shared birthday makes that day a shared experience -- not that I would trade it for anything. My daughter is my best-est birthday buddy and, very often, my "mini me." And that makes me so proud!!  People continually tell us how sorry they are that we don't get our own special day. And sometimes that makes us feel a bit sad. We do get our own special day...it just happens to be the same one.

So back to Mother's Day...

Since Stuart was travelling -- leaving on Mother's Day -- this year and Edward wanted to play in our soccer club's annual Quarry Classic tournament, also on Mother's Day, we decided to do Mother's Day on Friday instead of Sunday.

Stuart dubbed it "Mother's Day! (Observed!)" and I loved it!

We opened prezzies in bed...had donuts for breakfast...went out to Starbucks for our weekly writing time...ate lunch at Chick Fil'A...spent some time at Target...made special plates....had hotdogs on the grill....and played a game together.

For me, time together is the best ever present. I love being with my peeps -- big and small -- and listening to them chatter and laugh...and, well, just be kids.

Makes me realize how much I have to be thankful for.

*  *  *

My gifts this year:

As with my older kids at the same age, I got a funny one from the 3-year-old: fruit snacks. According to his siblings, he was very decisive, after giving up the toilet plunger he had been carrying. I asked him why he chose them (because I do like them very much!), and he told me that he thought they'd be good for us to eat together. Hmm...notice that the gift is one to share...don't know of any other men, er, um, boys who might have gotten their moms gifts that could possibly be shared...

Emily's and Edward's gifts were more "practical:" a ceramic frog and coffee-filled chocolates. Mmm!! And Stuart got me an iTunes gift card to go with their "together-gift" of an iPad 2. Did I mention how much I love my sweet peeps?

Happy Mother's Day!

A little "tear-jerker" from Johnson's & Johnson's. (Or as Emily called it: a "Hallmark (card) ad for babies." Enjoy! And I hope you had a sweet Sunday and a wonderful Mother's Day!

Friday Funnies

A little while back a bunch of these photo collages popped up on Facebook.

I especially liked this one -- go figure! -- and thought it made an excellent "funny" on this wonderful and fun Friday before Mother's Day.

Enjoy...especially if you're a mother! *wink-grin*

On Love, Chaos, and Kids

The kids just left with their daddy to buy Mother's Day cards and gifts for me.  It's the first year that Ethan can join in.

I had a pang of sadness when they first left. 

On one hand, I was excited, knowing that they are going to pick out something sweet and thoughtful for me.

(They always do. It's such fun. I'm always amazed when I open the gifts they choose...especially when they explain why they chose whatever fun thing they found for me.  I have a "virtual violet," a glass banana, a T-shirt with "Mom's Barn Mom's Rules," and a statue of a rainbow bugie...among other fun things.

My favorite memory comes from Emily's first time going out with Stuart to pick the gifts for me. She chose -- very insistently -- a can of chicken noodle soup...and it had to be the Healthy Request kind since it didn't have MSGs and I could eat it. Why did she choose soup, you might ask? Because "Mommy likes soup." 'Nuf said. She was 2 1/2.)

Back to this evening... 

On the other hand, I had a terrible loneliness suddenly. I know so many moms who say that they just need a break, some peace and quiet. I'm not sure why I don't long for that. (Maybe I'm just strange?) I can't say that I haven't ever wished longed pleaded with God to give me that... But the house gets terribly quiet and dull without the noise of kids. I'm with them most of the time, unless they have an outside activity to attend.

Somehow kids are the life of a house. Their noise and craziness and emotions and giggles and constant chattering all swirl together to bring about a certain chaos called LOVE.

There's a warmth in it that you just can't understand until you've had it and then don't have it. (My heart goes out to those with "empty nests." I can't imagine how empty the house will feel when the last of our "love-chaos" moves out...)

It just takes stepping back for a moment -- out of the fray -- to really examine what's happening. Then, and only then, will you see the blessing of travelling -- with a husband and three crazy, silly, and loving kids -- on this roadway called parenthood.

Though sometimes it's better viewed from a bathtub filled with bubbles, accompanied by a big box of chocolates... Just don't forget to turn down the volume on your music when they get back.

H is for...

Hormones.

Our seems to be full of them these days.

Estrogen. Progesterone. Testosterone. More estrogen.

With a pubescent girl and a pre-pubescent boy and a toddler-turned-preschooler boy...and a cycling mom...

Ugh.

It's enough to send any sane husband person -- sans hormones -- running for the hills.

Sometimes I wish I had a tent like the women had in the days of Moses from the Bible.  A tent to stay separate from everything and everyone who annoys me.............. But I digress.

Stuart recently came up with the best-est ever idea for me. (Did I mention how much I love this man?)

He said when we move one day, he's going to make sure that we have a "period" room for me.

A period room just for me! Like my very own indoor tent.

And are you ready to hear the design of said-room?

(Hold onto your hats, everyone. It's awesome!)

It will be an oversized room with a big claw-footed tub in one corner and a cupboard full of bath bubbles of all kinds nearby, as well as a cupboard filled with chocolate and a coffee maker and a television with a DVD player and Roku and a cupboard filled with Kiefer movies and chick-flicks.

No kidding. He said ALL of that.

(Did I mention how much I love this man?)

Of course, all that could really only happen after the kids leave home....in another 20+ years...and by then I'll be past "times-of-months."

Still, what's to stop me from taking a bubble bath whilst enjoying some chocolate and a Kiefer-y movie even with hormones?

I'll hold onto my dream, though. It's what makes these "special" times-of-month bearable....for me and him.

Nice vs,. Mean

"Attention! Attention!

Nice Mommy has left the building, taking with her all nice thoughts, deeds, ideas, and hugs.

It is uncertain when -- and if -- she will return......"

Sigh.

Some days feel like that lately...today being no exception.

Sigh (again).

Stuart is away on another trip. It feels (though he assures me it isn't so) like he's been away a lot more recently. Maybe it's coming close together or something...because it seems like we've eaten a ton of mac-n-cheese as of late.

I had in my head all the things we could do this week -- all the things I need to do this week. And it all came to a screeching halt when my temper flared this morning.

Sigh (yet again).

It's not that I'm completely unjustified in my reactions to things. But I get frustrated at myself when I can't seem to stop myself from ranting and over-reacting...and, even more so, when I feel like I just want to quit.

I know from experience that motherhood is full of days like this. And I honestly don't really want to quit or change anything.

It's just in my moment of venting, I'm gathering my thoughts and getting down on my knees to ask God to help me deal with things in a more, well, in a more "nice" way.

Then I'll be able to say: "Mean Mommy has left the building, taking with her all mean thoughts, deeds, ideas, and folded arms.

It is hopeful that she won't return......ever."

Well, it's a nice thought, right?

Sigh.

Mother's Day Magic

Ethan has discovered the "magic" of Mommy's kiss.

Now, whenever he bumps himself, he comes over to me and holds up his hand or his knee or his foot and asks for a kiss. The tears (if there were any) instantly stop, and he goes bouncing back to whatever he was doing.

Wow! My lips seems to hold more "magic" than a Band-aid...

* * *

And I'm sure I've posted this before (probably on another Mother's Day), but it bears repeating.

Happy Mother's Day to my mom, my mother-in-law, and my sister, Shelly! What an honor to walk alongside of you on this particular path of life.

BEFORE I WAS A MOM:

Before I was a mom
I made and ate hot meals.
I had unstained clothing.
I had quiet conversations on the phone.

Before I was a mom,
I slept as late as I wanted
And never worried about how late I got into bed.
I brushed my hair and my teeth everyday.

Before I was a mom
I cleaned my house each day.
I never tripped over toys or forgot words of lullabies.

Before I was a mom
I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.

Before I was a mom
I had never been puked on
Pooped on
Spit on
Chewed on
Peed on
Or pinched by tiny fingers

Before I was a mom
I had complete control of:
My thoughts
My body
And my mind.
I slept all night.

Before I was a mom
I never held down a screaming child
So that doctors could do tests
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a mom
I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put it down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces
When I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small
Could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a mom
I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.
I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small
Could make me feel so important.

Before I was a mom
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay
I had never known the warmth
The joy
The love
The heartache
The wonder
Or the satisfaction of being a mom.

I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much before I was a mom.

~Author Unknown

It's in the Cards

Being nearly twice the legal drinking age, I'm always happy thrilled ecstatic to be "carded" when buying something alcoholic.

Since I don't do it very often the thrill never diminishes.

So Emily and I are in a "state store" -- as they're called in Pennsylvania -- and I decide to buy some wine for Stuart and me.

We'd been talking about it for awhile but haven't had the funds to splurge on this luxury. Somehow milk always wins out where the family food/drink budget is concerned.

Idlegrass.

So Emily and I are in the "state store" -- as they're...oops. I already typed that.

I put it on the counter beside the register and pick out a little bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream to add to some coffee later on.

The man looks at me as he's ringing up the two items.

I suddenly feel very guilty...like I don't belong in the store, like I'm way underage, or something. I'm getting a single bottle of wine, for goodness sakes.

"Do you have a license or an ID or something," he asks.

I blush with pleasure. Of course, I do. Am I getting carded at nearly 40 years old? "Wow!" I say. "Not often I get carded at my age."

"We have to card everyone who looks like they're under 30," he admits.

I blush again and pay for my items, chuckling all the way out of the store.

Emily hugs my arm, thrilled to have such a "young-looking" mom. "They probably ask for everyone's ID but say that to make you feel good," she says.

Pop! The moment is gone.

But I laugh and agree.

Still, it was fun to be "so young" for a moment...

Be Still...

I often wonder why rocking a fussy baby back to sleep late at night always brings tears to my eyes.

Maybe because they grow so quickly.

Maybe because the moment is so brief.......

Baby Bites

Random snippets and thoughts from my "mommy" journal:

• I have a baby whose cheeks smell like spiced cookies.


• My daughter, Emily, 12, just informed me that she's going to be an "orca-ologist" and design clothes for orcas........... Hmm...I wonder what the "demand" will be.


• I am watching my happy baby smash rice crispies with his juice cup.... I wonder how it is that people mellow with each child, especially since I would never have been so amused with the first one doing that....


• I just discovered the liquefied Kit-Kat the baby was driving, holding, squeezing, and loving at my parents' house yesterday....and, funny enough, it's solid again and nearly back to its normal shape. Makes me want to contact Hershey's and congratulate them on a clever product...or not. Hmm... Wonder what makes it do that...


• I am laughing at my baby who discovered that his finger fits perfectly in his nostril....as long he doesn't discover that Cheerios fit in there, too........


• I just watched Ethan make it "rain" rice crispies on a very grateful poochie with no "umbrella" except his tongue.


• I love how my 13-month-old cheers for himself when he does the right thing. Although, it seems a little egotistical when he stops himself from doing a naughty thing over and over just to cheer for himself.


• I just heard my 12-year-old tell my 13-month-old that he looked "all tough and manly" with his PJs unbuttoned at the top. I guess that's the look the baby was going for.

Friday Funnies

'Nuf said. *wink-grin* Have a funny Friday!

On Being a Mommy...

I heard a young mother in Starbuck's laughing hysterically at her 17-month-old making piggy noises. She said she thought her baby was a genius...and then she giggled and blushed, embarrassed that she might be acting a little silly and proud.

But I think that's what EVERY baby should be to his/her mommy and daddy: A one-of-a-kind-wholeheartedly-loved-and-cherished genius.