Still a SAHM

You might say I've got a new lease on life. I knew things would be different when all of my kids went back to school in September, leaving me as a school day empty nester for the first time. My life is definitely different, that's for sure. Just maybe not quite in the ways I expected.

I thought I might be a little sad, and truthfully there are times when it gets lonely and I miss having a mini buddy to cuddle with and to run errands with me. But mostly I'm not lonely at all. After our dog passed away in September, we adopted Marla in October. She is a good companion. Sometimes Chris is home during the afternoon, and other times I meet my mom, mother-in-law, or a friend for coffee, shopping, or what have you. Then we've had the days off, half days, early release days, and kids home sick. I am rarely alone. Being the introvert that I am, though, a nice quiet house to myself is an absolute treat. I relish the peacefulness.

I never thought I'd be bored, and I wasn't wrong about that. On the contrary, there aren't enough hours in the day. I did think I'd have more time to do things like work out, practice my French (with Rosetta Stone), and organize my house. But what I'm finding is that the days slip away before I know it. I'm not just sitting around watching television and reading all day either. Actually I very rarely watch TV, and I don't even have much time for books.

What have I been doing with my time? Besides the regular stuff like grocery shopping, laundry, dishes, errands, walking the dog, and cleaning?

Maybe you've noticed I'm back to blogging more regularly, although I hope to be better about that as I get more accustomed to my new life. That's one thing. I've been making curtains for Bethany's bedroom, and I am no pro so that takes a lot of time. Since September I've had 9 days of kids home sick from school. N.I.N.E. So add taking care of sick children to the list. Then there's the occasional weekday get togethers with friends and family that I mentioned, although those are often tied in with with a necessary chore, like walking Marla or shopping for new boots for the kids. I organized the school book fair, volunteer to chaperone field trips every chance I get, and will be helping the kindergarteners roller skate in PE class in the coming weeks. Bethany is going to China on a school trip in the spring, so we have been fund raising for that. In other words, I have spent tons of time collecting returnables from neighbors and friends and taking them into the store, and making homemade goodies for bake sales. I have plenty of activities and tasks to keep me busy.

I also recently acquired a temporary, work at home job. Just a simple one that allows me to work at my convenience, for as many hours as I can. This right here has been the most eye-opening event of my new life.

The thought had crossed my mind that once all my kids were in school full-time that maybe I'd get a "real" job. You know, the kind that would require me to brush my hair, wear actual pants, go to a place of business and interact with co-workers. It's been a lot of years since I've done that.

Then reality set in. I don't know many employers that would take kindly to NINE impromptu days off due to sick children, not to mention early release days every other week, four half days, and a day off for elections. All that in less than three months. I know people do it. People put their elementary school kids in the after (and sometimes before) school program and give their middle school kids house keys to let themselves in after school. They share sick days with their spouses (Chris doesn't get sick days and really can't call in at the last minute in his line of work), hire babysitters, count on their parents quite a bit, and beyond that I don't even know what all they do. Everyday, all over the place, there are families that do these things. I am in awe of them and their phenomenal juggling abilities.

Here is what I think, for me personally, for my family. Life is hectic enough. Life is, in fact, so so SO hectic. Could we use the money? Oh my gosh, SO MUCH! Couldn't we all? But I like to see my kids in the morning before school, to pick them up after school, and to help them with their homework. I like them to know that if they're sick, they can call me and I'll pick them up and bring them home where they can at least be sick somewhat comfortably. I like to say yes when Connor's friend's mom calls me and asks if I can drive her son home from school, and to let Lucy's BFF come over after school so I can drive them to dance class together. I like to be able to check "yes" next to the box asking if I'd like to be considered as a field trip chaperone, without worrying how I'll shuffle my schedule to do it. And here's something else. I am mentally re-charged when I am ALONE. I like being alone sometimes, crave it, need it.

However, believe it or not, it's not all about me and my own selfish needs and desires. A long time ago, when I was immersed in diaper duty, round the clock nursing, and multiple strollers and car seats, I thought my kids would need me less the older they got. I'll admit that a part of me, the most overwhelmed and sleep-deprived part, sometimes looked forward to that day. The truth, I've come to realize, is they need me more, but in different ways. Now they can dress and feed themselves and use the bathroom (more or less) on their own. They can do chores, make their school lunches, wake themselves up with an alarm in the morning, and so much more. Yes, they can do a lot, and they don't need me anymore for many of the things for which they once depended upon me.

But there are other things, some I never thought of or considered until they reached up and smacked me in the face. Like that they'd need me to drive them all over town, to be at their games and their band concerts. To email their teachers when they're having troubles, to listen and wipe their tears when they've been burned by a friend, to assure them that they're smart and beautiful and good, to proofread reports, and to make sure they're packing more than just leftover Halloween candy in those lunch boxes. Sometimes they need me every single moment that they're with me, right up until they're asleep for the night, and by then I am spent, physically, mentally and sometimes emotionally. And then I keep going, often spending hours after they are fast asleep doing things like making sure they have clean underwear and cereal bowls for the morning and printing out papers that are due the next day. I know you know what I mean, fellow parents. Our kids need us, and that doesn't stop at any magical age.

So that brings me back to my new job. Like I said it's temporary and flexible, and I can work at home. It's only been a couple weeks so I'm new at this, but wow! It's hard to squeeze in a job with everything else. I have my blogging and social media things I do, but those are more sporadic and not paid by the hour. It's hard enough to make time for those little, occasional jobs.

At this moment in my life, I simply cannot fathom how I would work these kind of hours outside the home. I do not know how other people do it. This past week I've been able to juggle sick kids, half days, parent teacher conferences, and a whole lot more while still working. It hasn't exactly been easy but I've managed. I don't know how I could have been working in an office or anyplace other than home while simultaneously caring for a puking child.

I will say that having some extra money is great, especially with Christmas creeping up so quickly and the myriad expenses associated with older kids (you thought diapers were expensive! ha!). I am grateful beyond words for the opportunity to work while doing everything I can for my kids, but the eye opening part of this experience has been that I'm nowhere near ready to re-join the work force outside of my bubble of home and family. This is right where I need to be right now.

I like money and the things it can buy, but I don't like it enough to give up being available for my family at a moment's notice. I don't like it enough to say yes to latch key and babysitters and house keys. Not that there is anything intrinsically wrong with any of those things (here is where I'll mention that I myself had a house key in second grade, and spent my summers, school breaks, and many sick days being cared for by my aunts or grandparents).

Everyone I know is doing their best to survive any way they can, and it's all good. We all have to figure out what is best for us and for our families. As for us, I've been a SAHM for 13 years and we've been getting by, and we'll continue to get by. I'll continue to work at home as much as I can, falling asleep with a laptop on my knees more nights than not. But despite the new circumstances in my life, I will not be seeking any long-term employment outside of the home any time soon.

The funny thing is that I thought life would be calmer and less hectic with all four in school all day. Not quite!

An Ordinary, Remarkable Night

Tonight was not perfect, but it was close.

I came home from the grocery store and all four kids ran downstairs to help me unload the van and put everything away.

A little while later, when we sat down to dinner, I asked, "who wants salad?" And everyone wanted salad. (What?!) While we were eating, I heard lots of "this is so good!" and "where did you get this recipe, mom?" which is all very funny because I am not known for my cooking skills.

There was some humming of Mamma Mia songs going on, from at least one child. So when we finished eating I put the soundtrack on because obviously they totally wanted me too. And there was singing and dancing while we cleaned up. And Connor, my beautiful son, said that he wants to see the movie after hearing the music so many times. He didn't say play, but it's a start.

After clean-up, I got out ice cream, sprinkles, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, caramel syrup - the works. Bethany crushed up fake Oreos (I'm the weird-o mom who buys the organic versions of everything, apparently for the sole purpose of embarrassing my kids. But tonight they were happy to eat the organic fake Oreos crushed up on their ice cream). We were celebrating an academic achievement for Bethany that she has worked very hard on this summer. I'm really proud of her. Our ice cream sundaes were delicious. Can't go wrong with ice cream.

Then when I announced it was time for workbooks and IXL (computer academic program Connor and Lucy do), everyone got right on it. Bethany offered to help Mathilda with her workbook. This was my perfect opportunity for some me time, so I put on my running shoes, which are not used for running very much these days, and went outside for a walk.

What a glorious night. I walked 3.65 miles and listened to music, smelling bonfires and laundry and loving the night sky and perfect summer air. Bethany called to check on me because it got dark and she wanted to make sure I was okay.

I came home to a quiet house. Chris wonked out on the couch and the kids all upstairs doing something that does not involve screaming at each other. Maybe they even went to bed. I don't know, and I'm waiting a few more minutes before I check.

Now I'll tell you a secret or two.

When I came home from the grocery store, I  had to yell pretty loudly to get everyone to come downstairs to help me.

During dinner, someone spilled milk and there was a little eye rolling, and honestly...one kid passed on the salad. But she usually is the only one who eats it so that's okay.

While we were cleaning up and listening to Mamma Mia, there was a little antagonizing going on and a little tattling, and a little of me telling everyone to stop trying to ruin my perfectly lovely evening.

When we started making ice cream sundaes, someone dumped a large portion of our brand new jar of sprinkles on the counter, and while we ate our treats there was minimal sibling squabbling going on.

But despite these minor technicalities, it was a pretty darn near perfect night.

This is my version of perfect. It's not Mary Poppins, but it is real.

Big Kids

Summer, my most favorite time of the year, is speeding by so quickly I can scarcely accept it. The older my kids get, the busier we are. Gone are the endless weeks of doing what we please all summer long. Now we spend our days juggling. I'm not complaining...summer is still glorious. Just a slightly different shade of glorious.

Life has changed so much since my first years of being a mom, when I just had two little ones who didn't ask for play dates, happily went wherever I chose to take them, and had no responsibilities to schools or sports teams. Now we are dealing with sometimes having to make hard choices because we can't be more than one place at once. And sometimes having to do stuff with the fam even if you'd kinda rather be hanging out with your friends. Plus doing our best to keep little brains fresh and prepping for the coming school year, which is occasionally met with resistance.

I always have such ambitious plans and hopes for summer break. I always think I'm going to be able to fit in more than is humanly possible, and envision everyone being pleased with all of it. Reality check, please.

The truth is, we're about half way in already and it's been a good summer. We've been on two trips, spent lots of time with family and friends, enjoyed the sunshine and warm(ish - this is Michigan after all) weather, tried some new things, and learned to sleep in. That's not bad at all.

The flip side of the truth is we've often got disgruntled customers in the George household. We have to get up early a lot when we really (really really really) don't want to. We haven't exactly done many of the things I had envisioned us doing this summer, like visiting museums and state parks and working on household projects, and  I'm consulting my calendar multiple times a day, trying to keep everything straight.

Juggling is definitely the buzzword this summer, and I have a feeling that's not going to change for a long time.

By the end of the school year, I'm always looking forward to having time to do things during the summer break that have been put off all year. Then by the end of summer it's the same thing...I'm telling myself the projects will be finished once the kids are back in school. But this coming school year is going to be totally different for me. All four of my kids will be in school full time. For the first time in 13 years I will be (sort of) off duty for a large portion of the day. I mean, I'll still be cleaning up after them and running their errands, but they won't be around to interrupt me and throw me off course all day long. I might feel like I jumped into Alice's rabbit hole, but instead of chaos there will be peace and quiet.

Kids grow and life changes.

I am grappling with what to do with myself when the kids are back in school. Get a job outside the home? I hesitate because with four children there is a high likelihood that someone is going to be sick and/or need a field trip chaperon practically on a weekly basis. And I like to be there for them. That is my priority. Right now my plan is to kick the blogging into high gear (I will have a QUIET HOUSE for hours every day - can you even imagine??) while being open to flexible part time job opportunities.

Life changes, and that is a good thing. But it can also be a scary thing.

While I'm dealing with a different kind of summer, I'm also trying to prepare for my role in life to change drastically for the first time in 13 years. No little ones at home will mean no schlepping back and forth to preschool, no chatterbox following me around and making it practically impossible for me to talk on the phone or complete a coherent thought. It will also mean no more cuddle time in the middle of the day, no more trips to the library for afternoon story time, no more taking along a +1 to coffee with the ladies. At this point I'm not sure whether I'll be laughing or crying. I'm guessing a little bit of both.

9 Things I'd Tell My Tween Self

Dear Tween Me,

Those of us who survived the tween years know that they're no picnic. If we haven't totally blocked this whole awkward stage out of our minds, that is. I know you probably won't listen, but if you would, just for a minute, try to pay attention to your older and wiser self, I think you could learn a thing or two.

1. Everyone has a struggle. I know you think the grass is always greener. Things are easier for other people. Homework. Friends. Family life. Hair. Fashion. Gym class. But appearances can be deceiving. This is something you'll want to remember your whole life, and best start now. No matter how awesomely perfect you think that super popular girl's life is, you truly have no idea what kind of things she's dealing with in her personal life. 
2. Be thankful. You're rolling your eyes, I know you are. But I can save you a whole lot of trouble if you just heed this advice now. Many adults never even figure it out, but it's one of the most important life skills you can learn. Being happy is way better than being crabby, melancholy, depressed, jealous, and, well, unhappy. And being a happy person begins with gratitude. Trust me, you have a lot to be grateful for. Never, for one minute, forget that.
3. People are focused on themselves. You think the world is silently ridiculing you for wearing that jacket from last season, or because you have a little blemish on your forehead or because you lost the battle with the curling iron this morning. Relax. I get that kids your age can be jerks in a major way, but I promise you that no one is as hyper-focused on you as you are. They are too busy thinking about themselves, and being embarrassed because they don't have the "right" shoes or because their parents won't let them wear make-up yet.
4. Practice the Golden Rule. Again with the eye rolling. But think about it. Treat others as you would like to be treated. It's simple. It makes sense. Just do it. When you're tempted to join your buddies in being snarky about a classmate, think for a second how you would feel if someone talked to or about you like that. Suddenly it won't seem so funny anymore.
5. Keep a journal. There are a couple reasons for this little piece of advice. First of all, you think now that you will always remember the wonderful details of your youth. But memories fade. You will forget so much. Secondly, writing is cathartic. When you're feeling confused, sad, overwhelmed, or angry, write it out. It releases negativity and helps you sort things out in your mind. In other words, you'll feel better. Plus you'll be writing so much in high school and college, you might as well get in as much practice as you can now.
6. Be yourself. The temptation is great to fit in at any cost. You might not believe me right now, but standing out is a much better option. I know that there is a part of you that just doesn't want to be noticed right now. Or that only wants to be noticed as part of a group. But pretending to be someone you're not isn't the answer. Like what you like. Listen to the music you enjoy. Wear the clothes that make you feel good. Pursue the hobbies that interest you. People will still like you. If they don't, they can kiss off. Don't waste your energy on them. 
7. Your friends all shop at Kmart. I know how mortified you are every time your mom or grandma take you to Kmart. You are terrified that someone will see you walking in the store and tell everyone at school that you're a Blue Light shopper. But (considering that there was no Target back then) where else do you think people get their school supplies, toilet paper, and shampoo? They go to Kmart. They really do. 
8. Enjoy being the age you are right now. You want to grow up. You want to be independent and free. You'll get there, don't worry. In the meantime, thank your mother for doing your laundry, cooking your dinner, and giving you lunch money. Because when you're grown up, she won't do those things anymore. Your job right now is to be a kid, and that's not a bad job, so don't get too far ahead of yourself. 
9. Don't be afraid. You are frozen by fear of failure and embarrassment.  You are terrified of the unknown. Failing is okay. Everyone does it. You'll get over it and be better off for trying. There are worse things than being embarrassed for a minute. Learn to laugh at yourself, and keep in mind #3. The world is full of unknowns, and the fun of life is turning as many of them into knowns as you possibly can. 

Sincerely, 

38-year old me, who still has a lot to learn

Evolving Motherhood

My youngest little duckling went off to her second year of preschool this week. It hit me the other day that on her next birthday she'll be five. That's so...Big Kid. I won't have any little kids anymore. Crazy.

I love this age. I love our Mattie and Mama time when the big kids are at school. Mattie is at her sweetest and best when it's just the two of us. Oh I'm going to miss it!

I do realize that I have a whole year left, and there is no need to get ahead of myself. I want nothing more than to savor this last year of preschool magic, because when it's over life is going to be considerably different. I'm going to be so lonely, I know it already. My little buddy will be transformed into a big school girl. Gone will be our afternoons of cuddling on the couch, story time at the library, running errands together, going to the park. I feel so blessed to have had this special time with each of my kids. While I've always loved it, I admit that at times I took it for granted, or was too busy to notice, being too inundated with mothering little ones to think much about the fact that at some point it had to come to an end. And now I actually see the end of the road. It ends at an elementary school about a mile from my house, with Mathilda walking into her Kindergarten classroom.

Unfortunately, the school year has been off to a rough and stressful start in many regards. The sad truth is that I'm already fast forwarding to next summer in my mind. I'm wishing to be done with this crazy year, and it's barely started. I don't ever like to wish days away, so I'm trying to keep calm and carry on. I want to savor it. The preschool field trips and play dates, the working days*, the lunch dates for two. When it's done, it's done. The only real choice is to enjoy it all now while I can.

Keep calm. Carry on. Deep breaths. Slow down. Stop and smell the roses. And so on and so forth. I'm trying here people.

Mathilda has one more year to lay around in her pajamas, something she particularly relishes. She has one more year with sole control over the television between the hours of 8:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. One more year that she doesn't have to share me with her siblings during these same hours. For the next year she can continue to eat breakfast and lunch when she feels like it, and request a story and a cuddle anytime. After 12 years of mothering little kids, it's kind of impossible to fathom that we're coming to the end of the road.

My role is evolving.

Oh the time, how it flies. 

*Mathilda goes to a co-op preschool, which means that all the parents take turns working in the classroom.

Good Night, Sleep Tight

I was caught off guard.

Exactly when and how it happened, I'm not sure. It was while I was busy taxiing and soothing, fixing endless snacks and hoarding sleep by the minute. In the midst of the chaos of the past few months (which is really no different than any other period of our lives), Bethany and Connor started putting themselves to bed. Before that, I always, always, went in each of their rooms and "tucked them in" every single night. And then one night they stopped asking. I was probably busy, and they told me they were going up to bed and said good night. We always said our good nights upstairs, in, their bedrooms, but I figured it was a one time thing. They saw that I was in the middle of something and decided not to make a big deal out of it. I was probably grateful, because, to be honest, there were times when I was slightly peeved to stop what I was doing to do our nightly tuck in routine. By bedtime I am so tired, and still have much to do before I can call it a night.

But then it continued, night after night. My evenings got a little easier and I was mostly relieved. I don't really know why or how it happened, if they got together and discussed it and decided they are now old enough to go to bed on their own. There have even been a few times when one of them will go up to bed and forget to find me to say good night first. And then I go to them, because okay, fine, they can put themselves to bed. But not without a "good night" and an "I love you" and even a "sweet dreams." Also, preferably, not without a hug and a kiss. That's how I want our nights to end, no matter how grown up they get.

When you have little kids, it's hard to imagine a moment like this ever happening. It's hard to imagine freedom and independence. And then when it happens, it's sort of anti-climatic. I feel a little like I'm waving my arms and saying, "No, no, no! I'm not ready for this yet!" What stops me from totally losing it, for now, is that I do still have little kids too, so my tucking in days are far from over.

It's kind of like I have two sets of kids: Bethany & Connor, and Lucy & Mattie. Bethany and Connor are growing up. In some ways it's nice, but in some ways I don't like it. The time has gone by SO FAST. Too fast. They each only have about an inch or two to grow before they catch up with me, and then it will be little more than a hot minute before they pass me right up on the growth chart. I have to say, it makes me feel a little sick. Even though I have two more to go, I know the time will fly with them as well. Pretty soon my kids will barely need me. That's a scary thought, and also a liberating thought. Who am I if I'm not on mom duty 24/7, if I'm not consistently needed around the clock?

This is a milestone school year for us. When it's over, our youngest will be leaving preschool, and our son will be leaving elementary school. I'm pressing on the brakes as hard as I can, but the gears are spinning out of control.

More Than a Mother

My husband and I started dating in high school. By my senior year we were pretty much attached at the hip. We married relatively young, after dating for six years, and soon started a family. And for the past 12 years my life has been consumed by my role as Mother.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

I don't pretend to be the best mother. No illusions here! But I try to be the best I can be. I'm always learning and always trying to improve, although sometimes I slip and have to start all over again, and sometimes I just darn right suck. There is nothing I think about more than my children and parenting them. I go to sleep worrying or smiling in pride every night. It is hard to fathom what sorts of things use to occupy my brain before I became a mom.

The volunteer work I make time for revolves around my kids and their schools. The books and blogs and articles I read are usually related to them in one form or another - what to feed them, what to do with them, how to teach them something, where to take them, how not to ruin them for life. My conversations with my husband, my friends, and my family are almost always related to them. Many of my friendships started via my kids, by making friends with their friends' parents.

I am a mother in every sense of the word, and I am largely defined by that role and title. I'm not complaining because it's what I've always wanted, and it's a blessing, and I love it.

But dig a little deeper and you will find that there is more to me than being a mother. When I was starting to feel like I was losing that identity a little bit, that part of me that is my core being and doesn't depend on my children to define me...that's when I started this blog. Actually I think I felt like that for quite awhile before I started blogging, and it took me some time to figure out that writing helps bring me out of that all-consuming cloud of parenting. I need that to live and thrive. I need more than motherhood, and although I felt a pang of guilt typing that, there is nothing wrong with wanting and needing more.

So I write. And I go to the gym. And I run. And sometimes I see my friends and none of us bring kids along, and we might even get in a few sentences about topics outside of parenting. Not often, but sometimes.

And this week, I'm going to New York City. With a friend. No husbands. No kids.

I went from being a girlfriend to a wife to a mother...but I still get to be ME. It took me a long time to realize that and own it. I'm still stumbling along and it's not always easy. In fact, the day my friend and I booked our airfare, I wavered and hyper-ventilated and hesitated and mildly freaked out and pretty much felt like I was going to puke and pass out. Then I said let's do it. And a small part of me acknowledged that it was okay and I deserve it.

I'm a mother, and I love it. There could be nothing more rewarding in this world.

But I'm also me, Alysia. Blogger, wannabe runner, wife, and friend.

And Oh. My. GOD. I'm going to New York City! This is a dream, and it's coming true. I'm so excited!

I'm not sure how much blogging I'll get done while I'm gone, but I'm estimating none. So I've scheduled a few posts from previous years to be re-published. You probably never read them, or you forgot all about them if you did, so please keep visiting while I'm away. And I'll probably be blowing up Instagram, so if you don't already please follow me there: Michigalmom.

Finally, if you have any tips for fabulous must do attractions in NYC, preferably free or low cost, please leave me a comment!

Let Go

I know, I know. I've been so scarce lately. Summer is FLYING by. I knew it would. We've been so busy and it hasn't been easy finding the time to blog, plus we're having so much fun that I haven't tried that hard. Right now we're in the middle of vacation, and when we get home we'll be jumping right into our next adventure - hosting two Chinese exchange students.

We're doing the typical summer stuff. Going to parks and going swimming and having picnics and lots of sleepovers. Bethany had a week of basketball camp, Lucy had a week of Vacation Bible School. A little of this and a little of that. To add to our everyday chaos, Chris has started traveling some for work.

Bethany was invited to go camping with her friend's family for a whole week. We debated whether or not this would be a good idea. A week is a long time to be away from home at age 11. Plus the trip would be back to back with the vacation we had planned with my mother-in-law. But in the end we let her go. The campground they were going to was only about an hour away. Also I like to encourage independence, and allow my kids as many opportunities as possible - sometimes these include opportunities that we can't give them all on our own. I traveled with extended family and friends on several occasions as a kid, and I think being with other families is a great experience. So off she went, and I knew she was having a good time because she texted me on several occasions. Yay for cell phone service while camping.  All went well until the cell phone was dropped in the river (!!), but still the fun continued. Then on the last day she took a tumble off her bike, from the top of a gravel covered hill. Her friend fell first, at the bottom of the hill. Bethany saw her, panicked a little and tried to stop to avoid a collision, then down she went. Here is the picture I posted of her on my Facebook page:

Daughter + Bike = lots of bandages

You never actually think you're gong to get one of those phone calls, but nonetheless sometimes you do. Her friend's mom called from the urgent care center to tell me what happened, and to get Bethany's insurance info and get my permission to have Bethany treated. (Wouldn't you know they didn't take the insurance? Ugh!!) I was kind of in shock and it didn't sink in at first, but I got the most important part: the girls were fine, just badly scraped up. Chris was out the door within 5 minutes to pick her up, but her friend's mom thought it was important that she was treated right away, even without the insurance covering the visit. I appreciate her diligence, and it's probably a good thing we didn't wait to get her to a different urgent care center, because they got her cleaned up, pain medicated, and x-rayed in no time at all. I am thanking my lucky stars that Bethany had no broken bones, no head injury, and no need for stitches. Just lots of scrapes and bruises and gravel (OUCH!). The doctor prescribed an antibiotic as a precaution against possible infection.

Now that we're on vacation, Bethany is hating being bandaged up with pussing wounds while staying at a cottage less than a block from the beach. However, she is healing at an astounding rate, and I have reminded her a zillion times that she is SO LUCKY that her injuries were not worse. I'm even hopeful that she might (just maybe) get to go swimming in the lake before we head home on Saturday. Maybe I'm being too optimistic, but if we can just get some scabs on a few more scrapes...

So anyway, Bethany ended up coming home from camping a day early, which was just as well because she was able to spend a little time with Chris before we left (he isn't with us). She is still having pain and needing pain relievers at times, and hobbling along just a little bit. But since she first started crawling as a baby, there has been no stopping Bethany. The child just goes and goes and goes. This incident is no exception - a little fall of a bike will not keep her from doing anything. Except maybe going in the lake, and I've practically had to physically restrain her from doing that.

As a parent, it's hard to let go. Part of the reason it's so hard is because we're afraid of getting a phone call telling us our child has been hurt. It's scary to think of one of my kids having an accident or getting sick when they're away from us. But I also know that sickness and injuries can happen whether they are directly under our care or not. Now it's happened, my kid got hurt and I wasn't there. Luckily it turned out okay, but I know that next time it might be a little harder to let her go. But I still have to, because that is what being a parent is truly all about.

There's No Award for That

This morning was Bethany's 6th grade award ceremony. I had no idea they did this, until I received a letter in the mail last week inviting me to attend. And then the middle school awards of my youth came flooding back to me. From the looks of things, every single 6th grade student received at least one award. I'm not entirely sure about that, but if it's true then I commend the school for trying to find something for everyone, especially since it was done during school hours.

The awards were pretty vague and the paper programs that were handed out to us as we filed into the school offered no explanation. What, exactly, is the difference between Gold, Silver, and Bronze Honor Roll, for example? I get good, better, best, but what are the criteria? And what are the specific requirements for getting an award in a specific subject, like math or phys ed? Your guess is as good as mine. I'm sort of a conspiracy theorist (not really) so I propose they keep it vague so that teachers can give awards to whomever they want without needing to justify their choices. And before you tell me to go read the school newsletter or blog, or call the principal and ASK for God's sake, well, I just don't care that much. I'm not really complaining, just observing. It was probably the same when I was a kid.

What I was really thinking, as I watched these kids walk up one by one in alphabetical order to receive their manila envelopes containing their awards, was that I've gotten to know many of them over the past four years since Bethany began going to school with them. And they are each so much more than these generic awards.

There is no award for dedicating your free time to dance lessons and rehearsals, soccer/basketball/softball practice and games, piano lessons, and any other extracurricular not affiliated with school. There is no award for finally landing your flips on the trampoline, learning to pack your own lunch, and being responsible enough to set your own alarm and get ready for school on time without parental intervention.

There is no award for having the courage to try something new, or for producing insanely creative videos on your iPad. There is no award for innovative Lego creations or running a successful lemonade stand, and there is no award for doing chores without being asked or for exceptional party planning skills.

There is also no award for dealing with a parent's sickness or death, or a grandparent's or a friend's, or for being the new kid at school and making new friends. There is no award for standing up for a friend, for being honest when it's really hard, or for patiently brushing your little sister's hair and painting her nails. There is no award for memorizing your locker combination or learning to appreciate classic (read: John Hughes) films.

There is no award for knowing more about computers and electronics than your parents, and being able to figure out the purpose of all seven remotes in the family room. There is no award for being unashamed to hug your mother in front of everyone, or for having the courage to get on a plane and fly 1000 miles from home without your parents.

These kids do amazing things everyday, some noteworthy and some more ordinary, but all of them remarkable in their own ways. The school awards are nice, and I'm proud of Bethany and her friends for their academic achievements. But what I'd really love to witness is something like what my third grade teacher, Miss Rose, did for every student in our class.

Miss Rose made a one-of-a-kind award for each of us, cut out and laminated and paper punched, with a piece of yarn making it into a kind of medal to wear around our necks. She gave each of us a personal award that was a true reflection of our personalities and how she had gotten to know us through the year. The granting of each award was accompanied by an explanation. I was named Miss Congeniality, because, as Miss Rose explained to the class, I had managed to make friends with everyone even though I had moved from out of state and started the school year late.  I felt special and appreciated and known, if that makes sense, like someone had noticed me.

All those kids I watched getting awards today, I have my own awards in mind for you. I have noticed when you have done something great or out of the ordinary or that took special effort. I have seen you surviving and thriving under difficult circumstances and marveled at your talents and perseverance. You are more than a piece of paper that says Citizenship or Social Studies or Cross Country. But unless we're getting an Oscar or a Nobel Peace Prize, you will find in life that we are not typically rewarded with fanfare and attention, a ceremony and a piece of paper. We are usually awarded more subtly, with a word of thanks or a feeling of self-confidence, with a smile or a hug. Sometimes no one notices, and we have to pat our own backs, but that's okay too. Congratulations on those awards you received today, and may there be many more. But remember that oftentimes the best accomplishments and awards have nothing to do with school or work or a piece of paper.

In the words of Aibileen Clark in The Help, " You is kind, you is smart, you is important." Every single one of you.

The Fine Line Between Encouraging and Pressuring

I've said it before and I'll keep saying it from now until forever. This parenting business ain't easy. Choosing the right path is not always as simple and clear cut as one might assume. Making the correct choice is not always automatic and instinctive. Furthermore, what seems right today might seem very wrong later on.

It's one of those things nobody told me ahead of time about being a mom. That I would spend so much time agonizing and stressing and debating and trying so hard to choose right. That my stomach would ache with the uncertainty of my choices and the painful regret of my mistakes.

What's too much, and what's too little? Is she ready? Will this benefit or hurt him? Are we doing anything right?

One thing I've struggled with is knowing when I've crossed the line from encouraging my children to pressuring my children. The two are so similar, it's true. Yet encouragement has a tone of positivity and pride, while pressuring can easily develop a tone of negativity, doubt, and disappointment. Encouragement can have wondrous results. Undue pressure can backfire and have disastrous results. Without the proper balance, "I know you can do this" can turn into "If you don't do this, you'll let me down."

There have been times when I've had to resort to cajoling and heavy duty encouraging, bordering or even overlapping with pressuring. Using my instincts as my tentative guide, I try to gauge. Is it time to stop, or can I push harder? Will a few tears now reap a worthwhile reward later? Sometimes my instincts suck, sometimes I just don't know, and sometimes it all comes together, beautifully and harmoniously.

Those successes are what I think of, when I'm working on convincing myself that it's okay to push harder. They're what I'm thinking of when I see frustration creeping in. Because sometimes my job is to push my kids out of their comfort zones. And we all know how uncomfortable and scary that can be. But there are times when I can see a bigger picture that lack of experience and perspective is preventing them from seeing. That bigger picture is what keeps me going and gives me confidence that I'm headed in the right direction. It's not a guarantee, there are no guarantees, but it is a guide post, and that's something.

A Lesson in Priorities

For awhile now, Connor's bedroom has been quite a mess. Chris and I have been saying for months that we have to get in there and do a big cleaning and really get things organized. A few times we've started and made a ton of progress, but we always get sidetracked and it never gets done. You might think we should just send Connor up there and tell him not to come out until it's finished. But the thing is, the room hasn't had an overhaul since we moved in, so we're talking about a bedroom full of outgrown toys. Plus a closet full of stuff I've been telling him to shove in there anytime I don't know where else to tell him to put something. ("Ummm....just put it in your closet for now." As if for now had any real meaning at all.) What I'm trying to convey is that this was way more of a mess than a 9-year old boy would know what to do with on his own. I'm not totally taking the blame or responsibility off of him, because he certainly didn't help, but...I admit, it wasn't all his fault.

I'm full of excellent excuses, trust me. Most of them are even perfectly valid. And getting sidetracked is a piece of cake in this family because there is always a million things that need to be done right this minute. Things like homework, meals, laundry, dishes, errands, and work take precedence. And then...phone calls, email, vacuuming, volunteer work, and quality family time are waiting in the wings to swoop in anytime there is a spare minute. This means that big, time consuming jobs, like cleaning a very messy bedroom, tend to fall to the bottom of the list.

Until...

Last night. Connor was complaining about an upset tummy. So I sent him to bed with a bowl and prayed that he would use it if need be. After a frenetically busy couple of days, I was exhausted and was in bed before midnight (crazy!). Only to be woken up a couple hours later by a commotion. Connor had woken up and been sick. He came down to tell us, assuring Chris that he made it into the bowl. Chris went upstairs to check out the situation, and found that while, yes, he did make it into the bowl, he also made it onto a good portion of his bedroom. Let me just tell you, in case you were wondering, that you haven't lived until you've cleaned puke off of Legos. Especially at 1:30 in the morning, after being yanked out of a sound sleep.

I believe in wake up calls and serendipity and all that. And if Connor puking all over the Legos on his bedroom floor was not a call to action, I don't know what is. I'm very sorry he had to get sick for the Universe to intervene with its loud and clear message, but I can recognize a silver lining when I see one. Sometimes. Well, in this instance, at least.

Universe? If you're listening, you'll be happy to know that there are no more Legos on Connor's bedroom floor. That's because Chris and I spent a large portion of the day cleaning the heck out of Connor's bedroom. And, guess what? It's still not done. But it is more done than it has been in a long time. Let me break it down a little. Cleaning Connor's room has thus far yielded:

• Approximately two loads worth of dirty laundry, NOT including barf bedding.
• Two garbage bags full of clothes and other miscellaneous items to be donated to Salvation Army.
• Three large shopping bags full of clothes to be handed down to my godson.
• Two really big boxes completely overflowing with old toys, plus two smaller boxes.
• Three garbage bags full of trash.
• A large pile of (now) broken down empty Lego boxes to be recycled. Why the HELL were we saving these?

I'd estimate that we're about 75-80% done. Most of what is left is the annoying stuff, like figuring out what to do with the billion little things that have no real home (erasers, bookmarks, random little toys, and other inexplicably treasured objects) and going through the overflowing book shelf. I even cleaned out most of the closet. Even though it's not done (The kids had to go to bed = perfectly valid excuse!), I'm so pleased with the progress that we made today.

We got the message, alright. Connor's room needed to be cleaned. We need to stay more on top of things. We need to make an effort to be more organized. We need to get rid of things we no longer have a use for.

And we don't need so much stuff!

To me, this is the most important part of the message. I want my kids to live their lives focusing on what they can DO rather than what material things they can HAVE. DOING is better than HAVING. DOING feeds your soul in a way that HAVING cannot. There are many factors at play, contributing to my kids having too much stuff. Factors going back to my childhood, and probably Chris's too. Being the only grandchildren. Modern societal norms. Hoarding tendencies. You name it. Madonna sang about living in a material world almost 30 years ago. If anything, materialism has been exacerbated since then. What did anyone know about material possessions before we had the internet to show us, in extraordinary detail, all the fabulous things available to us, and to let us know (via the wonders of social media) how much stuff everyone else has? But that doesn't mean I want my family to live as slaves to things.

As much as I enjoy (and would prefer to keep around) many of our things, I'll take DOING over HAVING any day. Does that mean I'm ready to give up my dishwasher in favor of washing by hand? By all means, absolutely not! But I'd rather Connor had far fewer things, and more space in his bedroom with which to play with and use what he does have. I'd rather have less things and more experiences. Thank you, Universe, for the reminder. This is an ongoing lesson in my life, and one of these days it's going to stick.

Being Grateful Even When You're Not

The other night, at bedtime, Mathilda treated us to an all-out temper tantrum worthy of the most dysfunctional Supernanny family you've ever seen. She was up several times throughout the night, crying for no discernible reason, beckoning me to her room time and again. The next morning, as I was awakened to the sound of Mathilda screaming 15 minutes before my alarm went off, I could feel the irritation shrouding me like a leaden blanket. Soon Lucy joined in, crying loudly and hysterically that she would not be eating her breakfast until someone killed the spider in the dining room.  No one was  happy, everyone had a complaint. Exhausted, I was feeling overwhelmed with noise and crying and whining and lack of sleep. I felt ready to snap.

Then a little voice piped up, making its way through the thick grogginess clouding my brain. That voice said, 

"This is the life you wanted. Be grateful for it." 

Normally I'm moving too fast to pay much mind to little voices trying to be heard. I can talk about the importance of slowing down and stopping to smell the roses, and once in awhile I might even actually do it, but the reality is that on a regular day, under normal circumstances, things are moving at race pace most of the time around here. In the midst of dealing with someone's crisis, I'm multi-tasking at least a few other things: plotting out phone calls and trips to the grocery store, flipping or stirring whatever is cooking on the stove, responding to texts, and reminding somebody to feed the dog. I get that this isn't ideal, but what can I say? There's only one of me. However, on this particular morning, I was just that right combination of half-asleep and cognizant enough to hear the message of my inner voice and take mind of it.

Hearing the message that my subconscious was trying gently to assert, I paused and even smiled. Because, of course, it's true. This is the life I wanted. Complete with chaos and craziness and bad days. I wanted a big, loud family, with kids chattering and running all around. I wanted children climbing on my lap while I try to work and hanging from my leg as I attempt to make dinner. I wanted kids begging for one more story and beseeching me to cuddle them while they watch television. I wanted little hands needing to be held and Eskimo kisses accompanied with heartfelt conversation - even though it's long past bedtime. I wanted friends adding to the noise and children sprawled, fast asleep, all across the couch and floor; requests for homemade waffles and pleas for a trip to the mall.

I wanted to be immersed in the role of motherhood, and there is no denying that I am.

Yes, it's true that I'm often disappointed. I have moments when I admit that life hasn't turned out exactly as I'd hoped. But let's be real. In our dreams and aspirations, we tend to leave out the ugly, unpleasant bits that are inevitably going to be part of the package. We don't, as in my case, think to ourselves: I want four beautiful children, and I can't wait to break up their incessant bickering and carry them to time out ten times before they finally calm down. But real life includes those temper tantrums and crying fits. It includes not quite making it the toilet and spilling an entire bowl of cereal with expensive organic milk. It includes emotional outbursts that have no concrete cause, frequent reminders to hang up coats and backpacks, and having the courage to say "no TV" even when all you want is a tiny window of peace and quiet that only the television babysitter can provide. So even if we don't consciously include the unpleasant aspects of our hopes and dreams as we fantasize about the future and what we want out of life, they will still be there.

I'll forget again. I'll get caught up in homework struggles and choosing battles and mountains of laundry. Because that is my life and my job. But right now, I remember: this is the life I wanted, and I am grateful for it.

What I Want for My Children

Christmas is right around the corner, and I have to admit that we love spoiling our kids at Christmastime. Every year we say we're going to cut it way back, and we sort of do. But no matter what, we try to make it amazing for them. This year is no exception, and I cannot wait to see their excitement on Christmas morning. With four kids, plus the gifts that Chris and I exchange, our living room will be pretty insane. While that's all well and good and incredibly fun, what I want for my kids goes far beyond material possessions and a room full of wrapped gifts.

Self-confidence
     Empathy
          Joy
               Resourcefullness
                    Magic
               Love
          Connection
     Gratitude
Knowledge

Friendship
     Laughter
          Peace
               Beautiful memories
                    Adventure
               Wanderlust
          Curiosity
     Strength
Open-mindedness

I feel the bone crushing weight of the world on my shoulders, to provide all of this for them, and so much more. I want them to have what I didn't have, what I did have, and what I hope to have someday. I want to open their eyes to the world around them, and make sure they know that their place in it is more than just that of a casual observer.

I want them to remember to enjoy life, to set lofty, improbable goals, and to remain vulnerable. Vulnerability allows us to love deeply and freely, without worrying about what tomorrow may bring. When we build walls to protect ourselves, we keep people out and prevent ourselves from growing.

I want them to fall down 100 times and get back up 101 times. I want them to let their tears flow and to never hold back their laughter. I want them to do what they fear and to love with wild abandon. Heartbreak and failure may come, but have we lived fully if we have not experienced both? Let your hearts break open, my babies, it means that they are bursting with love. Where love is, more will grow. You have taught me that.

I want them to hold success in their hands, whatever that may mean to each of them individually; to breathe it in and relish its essence. I want them to understand that their lives are malleable, that they can change so much, but that some things are out of their control. I want them to not lose sleep over those things that they cannot change.

I want them to apologize and forgive. I want them to never doubt my love, and to know that I'm so sorry for all the times I screwed up, for my mistakes, miscalculations, and angry outbursts.

Of course, this is an incomplete list. It's only the tip of the iceberg, really. I think it's fair to say that I want the world for my children, the parts that can't be ordered on Amazon or picked up from Target. Christmas will be fun, and they will love all of their presents. But when the gifts have all been opened and the wrappings are in the trash, I hope all of the other intangible things are what they cherish most and remember most clearly. That magic of waking up early and quivering with excitement.  The joy of giving. The flood of love and gratitude. The knowledge that someone knows them and loves them so well and so dearly, and has noticed them and paid enough attention to them to choose just the right gifts. The warm tingly feeling of togetherness and sharing.

All of these things I want for my children, more than anything that can be bought. Some they will have to earn and find for themselves, but I hope more than anything that I'm setting them on the right path so that they can do just that.
           

I'm Dreaming of Gay Paris

When Chris and I were away this past weekend, I spoke a dream of mine aloud. Now, I think it's safe to say that Chris has always sort of vaguely known about this dream, but I made it specific and it feels a lot more real now.

I want to go to Paris for my 40th birthday.

I have always wanted to go to Paris. This is nothing new. My whole life I just assumed I would go there at some point. Weird? What I now realize is that I'm not going to simply be teleported to Paris in my sleep one night, and wake up next to a queue of tourists in line for the Louvre. Not that I ever literally thought that would happen. But...I never thought it through very much at all. Someday I will go to Paris. When is someday? Last weekend I decided that someday is my 40th birthday, which will be in the year 2015.

Being a parent is a wondrous thing. I wouldn't trade one second of mommyhood for anything in the world, even Paris. But it's loud. Physically loud and also mentally loud. There's not much room in my mind for thinking about me. Sometimes I can squeeze in some minor, rather inconsequential thoughts. Like, it's time to schedule a not so fun doctor appointment, or it would be fun to go out with the girls this weekend. But the big thoughts...dreams and goals and stuff like that...well, I usually can't remember to think them, I'm too distracted to think them, I'm too tired to think them, and I'm too busy thinking about...who has dance what night?, what day can I get to basketball registration?, I should have already ordered Lucy's birthday presents, what am I going to buy at the grocery store for school lunches this week?, Connor seemed a little nerved up at bedtime about starting 4th grade, are Bethany and her friend going to make it to school on time if they walk?, does Mathilda need to go back to the doctor?, can we fit in a family vacation during Christmas break? (small sample of what is competing for my attention and brain space at this very moment.)

Getting away with just Chris gave my brain a little break. Not that the kids weren't still on my mind, because of course they always are. But I wasn't being barraged with a multitude of demands that must be met right this very second. It was quieter. I could breathe and think at a more leisurely pace. And so when we were driving someplace at some point during the weekend, I said it. I want to go to Paris for my 40th birthday. And Chris said...okay, let's do it.

Chris put it as a Facebook status: we decided that we're going to Paris for Alysia's 40th birthday (something like that). We mentioned it to the kids. Lucy said, "don't forget to take a picture of the Eiffel Tower." As if that would ever happen. Chris started looking up some prices to get an idea of how much we'll need to save. He's excited about it which is making me more excited about it. I've been researching Rosetta Stone so I can brush up on my French. My random, vague little dream is turning into something real.

Time away from my kids was the key ingredient for me. Having a little mental quietude is sometimes vital in turning a dream into a reality.  Figure out what the dream is. Say it out loud. Be specific. Write it down. Share it. Tell your parents, tell your kids. Make plans. Do research. Move forward. Dream big. Make it happen.

I'm going to Paris for my 40th birthday.

And I can't wait to tell you all about it.

Blog Inspiration

Not long ago, I learned that one of my favorite bloggers, Anne Andrus, passed away. I have mentioned her family's blog, www.sixintheworld.com, before because it has been an inspiration to me since I stumbled across it six years ago. After I randomly picked up the book One Year Off: Leaving It All Behind for a Round-the-World Journey with Our Children by David Elliot Cohen from the library, I was on a quest to find other families who had taken extended round the world trips together. That's when I found sixintheworld. At that point, the Andrus family was in the midst of their travels. I loved what I was reading and seeing, so I quickly went back to the beginning of their journey via their blog posts and marveled over each and every post. From then on, I followed them until they returned to the states, and then kept reading.

I was saddened to learn of Anne's initial cancer diagnosis, and I kept her and her family in my thoughts and prayers through the ups and downs of her illness. Their blog updates were scarce, but I was always excited to see a new one and hoped for good news every time. The last one I read just after we returned home from our road trip, and I cried as I read Anne's husband Tom's eulogy post, Celebrating an Amazing Lady.

Although I didn't know Anne in real life, I did feel that I knew her in some small way from reading sixintheworld. It's an odd feeling, to have a sense of connection with someone I've never met. That's one of the wonderful aspects of the blogging world, I suppose. It's pretty awesome to have the medium to influence, inspire, and share; both for the reader and the blogger.

Reading sixintheworld exemplified to me the possibilities available to anyone with the will and desire to follow their dreams. I saw a large family doing something I wanted to do, but that felt so impossible. I'm grateful to the Andrus family for showing me that the impossible can become possible. I don't know if my family will ever travel round the world together, but I do know that a few years ago it felt impossible that I'd ever be able to drive my kids across the country on a road trip, and this summer I did just that.

Anytime I hear of a young mother dying, it shakes me to the core. Since reading that Anne Andrus died, I have had a hard time not dwelling in the darkest recesses of my heart, where I hold a fear of leaving my children motherless. I love them so much and don't want to miss a minute of them growing up. But more than that, I don't want them to miss me and to know what it is to be a child with no mother. Who knows what the future holds, but I hope I will be around for a long time. Nonetheless, I try to live in the moment because no one knows what tomorrow may bring. Thankfully the Andrus family took their dream trip when they did, because as soon as they came back, Anne got sick. In the same spirit, I try to maintain a sense of joy in our family; to provide my kids with a strong foundation of love; and to do my best to ensure that they have a multitude of happy memories to hold close forever. Today is important; it's all we have. The time to recognize and move toward our dreams is now. The time to do what we love and say "I love you" is now.

Have you ever been deeply inspired by something you've read on a blog?

Teaching Kids Healthy Competition: Guest Post by Nancy Parker

I'd like to thank Nancy Parker for the following guest post. Enjoy!

Competition has become this ugly monster that we try to shield our kids from, instead of encouraging the idea that everyone is the best at everything, and that there is no one person or team who ranks higher than others. However is all of this equality in events and activities that are supposed to be competitive really doing our kids any good, or is it making them less equipped to deal with life out in the real world? Being competitive to the point of degrading others is certainly not something we want to instill in our children, but a little healthy competition can be beneficial. Here are four ways we can teach our kids healthy competition:

          1. Instill the value of competing for your own personal best: Whether it’s out on the field, in a meet, or at the local spelling bee, teach your kids that they always need to strive to beat their own personal best. By focusing on their own improvements, the competition shifts from who is the best overall to how much better your child did individually as compared to the last time. 


          2. Encourage kids to try several different activities: Instead of denying failure in one sport and forcing kids to practice repeatedly, despite their overall unhappiness at doing so, let them try out several different sports or activities until they find one that they find the most personal satisfaction in. When you find something you’re passionate about, even if you’re not the best at it, you naturally want to try to improve, versus being forced to do something that you have no interest in. 

          3. Be a good role model: Show your kids the joy that comes from always striving to do your best by displaying those behaviors in everything you do. Kids need to see that losing doesn’t have to mean getting upset or defeated; they need to see that losing can be used as an opportunity for improvement. This attitude begins with you; as their parent you are their greatest role model. 

          4. Review failures together: Instead of getting upset when your child fails an exam or loses a big game, review what happened together. Ask him if he studied enough for his test or practiced enough for his game, and what can be done the next time around that will result in a better outcome. Use failure as a learning experience that can be improved on for higher success next time. 


When we constantly reward failure and embrace losing, we teach our kids that striving for better is unnecessary. However we should always be reaching for a new personal best, and as parents we need to teach kids how to do that. Competition shouldn’t be an ugly thing; it should be something to look forward to, and something that pushes kids to excel. It’s very alive in the real world, and sheltering kids from it is only setting them up for a rude awakening when they leave the nest.


Author Bio
Nancy Parker was a professional nanny and she loves to write about wide range of subjects like health, Parenting, Child Care, and Babysitting, find a nanny tips etc. You can reach her @ nancy.parker015 @ gmail.com.

Fear Not, Young Padawan: Encouraging Kids to Travel

Tonight at bedtime I had an opportunity for some one-on-one conversation with Connor. He's a quiet guy who keeps emotions bottled up, and we need to watch him for signs of trouble so we can carefully extract from him the cause of his woes. Today was a beautiful day and I had summer on my mind, so I innocently asked him if he's getting excited for summer break. My kids live for summer break, so I was expecting an enthusiastic answer. I was surprised when I didn't get it.

Instead I got an "eh, kind of."

WHAT? How can you not be excited for summer break, right? Especially when you're 9 years old and summer time seems to stretch on forever, like an endless horizon filled with melting popsicles, mosquito bites, and skinned knees.

So then I had to spend some time delicately poking and prodding to get to the root of the issue. As it turns out, Connor is not looking forward to our big road trip this summer. Like, at all. He is worrying about it, bless his little ginger heart. I had to ask lots of questions and do some more pushing and probing to finally figure out what is specifically on his mind.

There's a lot on his mind, actually.

He doesn't like that there is a volcano in Washington. I'm hoping he doesn't Google it, like I just did, and learn that there are actually 5 active volcanos in Washington. I tried to dispel this fear by telling him that there are scientists who devote themselves to tracking volcanic activity, and that they can predict when one will erupt so that people have plenty of time to get far away. I have actually no idea if any of that is true, strictly speaking. I more or less based my argument on what I want to be true, what I assume to be true, and what I've seen in movies.

He's going to miss Daddy. I reassured him that we could call Daddy every single day. I think my counter point fell on deaf ears.

He just knows that his sisters are going to give him a headache in the van with all their screaming and whining. This is actually a very valid concern, and one that I have thought much of as well. I told him we would have strict rules about respecting one another and not being too loud in the van. I didn't even remotely convince myself, much less Connor. But later when I talked to Chris about it, I had a brainstorm, and that brainstorm is called ear plugs. I will get him (and me) some ear plugs for the ride, and he can use them if his sisters start blasting his ear drums. Which will happen, no question.

He doesn't want to be that far from home because, in his own words, he's "not used to it." I gave him a pep talk about how sometimes we have to go far from home to see and experience awesome things. It may have sunk in ever so slightly.

I started to feel guilty.  Is this trip just for me, I asked myself, to satisfy my sense of wanderlust and help me to feel less stagnant? Should I see if there is some way that Connor can stay home if he truly does not want to go? Do I have to wait until all of my kids are grown before I can do any cool stuff that I want to do? The self doubt started creeping in.

But...

How much do we have to cater to our kids, anyway? They go through all kinds of phases, and they're moody little buggers too. Sometimes they're bored of everything. Sometimes they're only happy if they're with friends. Sometimes they're restless. Sometimes they do nothing but complain about every suggestion we make. Other times they are joyful little sponges, soaking up and loving everything we excitedly expose them to. Sometimes they are carefree and adventurous. Other times they are scared and apprehensive about every little thing. I have four of these volatile little creatures, so it follows that it is purely impossible to please all of them in all ways, at all times. Or at any given time, for that matter.

As parents, we have veto power; not the other way around. We make the decisions and do what we deem best. Yes, we should listen to our kids, of course we should. But listening to them does not mean bending to their will and becoming slaves to their happiness. Sometimes they need to come around and see things our way. And sometimes they hate us until they're 30 years old, when they maybe have a sudden revelation that it was really spectacular that their mother took them on a 4000 mile road trip of epic proportions. I hope in this case it's the former.

I do believe that taking this huge trip is a good thing for our kids. Better than good, even. For lots of reasons. The trip in itself is one thing. Seeing so much of our country. Visiting different states and seeing things none of us has ever seen. Being together in a crowded minivan for hours and days, and being forced to choose between being miserable or enjoying our company. Learning patience in a whole new context. I also want them to look back on this trip and remember that going the extra mile (or several thousand) for friendship is a worthwhile effort. That visiting family is important. That relationships are vital, and protecting them is a priority. That we live in a BIG world and sometimes we need to do BIG things. We don't have to hover where it's safe and familiar; we can spread our wings and go, even when it feels uncomfortable and frightening at first. That, in fact, plowing through that discomfort and fear is more rewarding than we could possibly imagine as we sit on our family room couch.

Later, when Connor was sleeping, it occurred to me that it's been awhile since we've been on a trip really far away, and the kids have never been this far from home. Maybe it's totally normal for one or all of them to feel wary about traveling thousands of miles from their comfort zone. When I put it that way, it seems obvious that of course it's normal. But I have faith that our trip is going to be absolutely amazing, even if it does take my kids a little while to realize that and appreciate it.

Evening the Score

I love having a "big" (by today's standards) family of six. Sure it's loud as heck and there's lots of bickering. But in the grand scheme those minor annoyances are not such a big deal. We have fun. The kids play together and help each other. They have daily hands-on lessons in cooperation and team work. The four of them will have each other for always, and that's what makes me the happiest.

Sometimes there are challenges, I mean besides the typical damage control and mediation. One of them is Score Keeping. She got more/you love him more/she got to stay up later...etc. etc. I'm sure you get the picture, and even with two kids it's a challenge (I was a mother of 2 for a few years...). But with four it's more complicated and harder to keep track. At least for me, in my muddled Mom Brain. They probably each have the equivalent of a 100% accurate Excel spreadsheets stored in their little noggins, clearing showing how many times they each got to ride in the front seat, sleep with mom and dad, have a piece of candy before dinner, and any other perceived or real inequality anyone could possibly imagine. Me though, I'm just winging it. I've given up on keeping score because there is no way to keep everything 100% fair and equal.

Before I had children, I worked with a woman who had two kids, in the young adult age group. She would keep track, to the penny, (not exaggerating!), of how much she spent on each of them for Christmas. Because she just knew they would realize if all things were not entirely equal, she made sure to spend the exact same amount on each of them. In my naive pre-motherhood days, I thought she was nuts. And now that I have been in the mommy business for over 10 years, I see her point - but I still think she was nuts.

Life simply doesn't work in terms of pure equality. It just doesn't. It can't. All kids do not want and need exactly the same. They are unique. They need different amounts of time, attention, affection, and even material belongings. It's not possible to throw all their needs and wants on a spreadsheet and expect anything resembling an even score to come out of it.

We do our best to meet our children's needs, one by one, as they are expressed. Someone needs extra hugs and kisses, check. Someone gets a free pass on chores because of a busier than usual social calendar, check. Someone has a nightmare and begs to sleep with us, check. Someone has a ton of homework and needs a ton of help, check. And then there's the other stuff too. Like someone gets a special treat when accompanying a parent on an errand, and treats are not provided for everyone else. (scandalous!) Or someone gets to stay up a little late because the movie he or she is engrossed in is almost over. If you are a parent of more than one child, I am convinced  you deal with such inequalities on a daily basis. If you are in the midst of the baby days, this goes double. A baby who wants to nurse or just pooped his pants just isn't going to be very patient, and thus everything else gets knocked down a notch in order of importance.

And while we do our best everyday to keep things as fair as possible, knowing that pure equality is not possible but hoping that the scores are pretty darn close, at least; sometimes something comes up that sets the whole delicate system way off kilter. Like Bethany gets to go Florida, all by herself, to visit Chris's brother. And she gets to miss three days of school, and go to Disney, and go to a water park, and get Uncle Robby all to herself for 5 days, and do all kinds of other fun stuff.

It's a wonder our other three children are not ready to crucify us. But they are handling it surprisingly well. This is Bethany's Christmas present from my brother-in-law, and the long term plan is for the other kids to each have a turn when they are in 5th grade. Of course life happens and there are no guarantees, so we can only hope that they will each get their own special trip; and if they don't, that it doesn't scar them for life too badly.

There's really no way we can make things even in the neighborhood of equal for Connor, Lucy, and Mattie this week. But we still feel compelled to try, just a little bit. Thus it happened that last night, on a school night, Chris took Connor to see the midnight viewing of The Avengers. And let him drink a Pepsi Icee (we have a strict no caffeine rule around here). And let him take the day off school today...he was out until three in the morning, after all. While we're at it, why shouldn't Lucy get to do something special? So we let her take a day off school too. And she'll get a solo sleepover at Chris's mom's tonight. And maybe the three of them will do something with my mom tomorrow. Do our combined little efforts equal a trip to Florida and all it entails? Not a chance. We're not magicians, but we're doing our best.

Sleep With Me?

My welcome to motherhood did not include months of sleepless nights, trying to soothe a newborn to sleep. Nope, Bethany was definitely not a cuddly baby. She cried until we put her down to sleep, in her own crib, thank you very  much. (Interestingly, she is much more cuddly  now, as a 10 and a half year old, than she was as a baby/toddler/preschooler. Making up for lost time maybe?) I gave up on nursing early on, put that baby on a schedule, and she was sleeping like a champ - 12 hours a night - very quickly. Once she started crawling, at around 6 months, she never even wanted to be held anymore. Such a busy little thing, she was.

When Connor came along, he was comparatively much more snuggly. That is, he tolerated being held and cuddled much better than Bethany. With only Bethany to compare him to, I thought I finally had myself a cuddle bear. I remember when he was about 9 months old, Chris was out of town and I coerced allowed Connor to sleep with me. This stands out in my memory because Bethany and Connor truly never slept with us (except for those very first newborn nights, getting used to being in the world). But he was also a champion sleeper from a very young age, bottle fed and on a fairly reliable schedule. He rarely fussed and was not a kid who insisted upon being held frequently. They were possibly the two easiest babies ever. At least that's how it seems now.

Then I had Lucy and Mathilda, and neither of them slept through the night until they were 18 months old. They wanted to be held all the time. They slept with us a lot. Like, a whole lot. They were, and are, about the cuddliest little girls ever. Mattie is almost 3 and at this very moment is requesting me to stop what I'm doing and cuddle her (which I will do shortly). Now I know what it's like to have snuggle muffins. While I loved having my champion sleepers, I found that I also loved cuddling with my baby girls for long hours. I found I had a patience I didn't know was in me for those frequent middle of the night wake-up calls. I wonder (and feel loads of guilt about this) if it's because I nursed both of them for so long. I wonder if I had nursed Bethany longer and nursed Connor at all (guiltguiltguilt), if they would have loved being held and cuddled like the little girls.

But this is not really a post about mommy guilt.

Last night Bethany was gone overnight at my  mother-in-law's and Connor said he didn't want to go to sleep without her. You see, they have their own bedrooms but Bethany almost always sleeps on Connor's bottom bunk (he sleeps on the top). This is not typical Connor behavior at all. He has never minded sleeping alone. He very kindly allows his sister(s) to intrude on his turf, but I'm pretty sure he would generally prefer that they didn't. So I was really surprised. Turns out that he has been having bad dreams and been a little freaked out since Friday the 13th.

Let me explain. He and Bethany were begging to watch a scary movie on Friday the 13th, since some of Bethany's friends were talking about the scary movies they would be watching that night. Chris suggested Drag Me to Hell, saying it was more funny than scary. I had never seen it, and armed with memories of myself watching Poltergeist and Nightmare on Elm Street at their ages, I went along with it. Within a few minutes it was clear they were not going to get through this movie. They were both hiding under the blanket and looked terrified, so I asked them if they wanted me to turn it off. "YES!", they both agreed. So that was a couple weeks ago, but last night was the first time Connor had said anything about having nightmares or being scared. Just like when he was a baby, he is not a complainer. He is also not very emotionally expressive, so I knew this had to be weighing on him heavily if he actually decided to talk to me about it. It was a windy night and we could hear the wind blowing around. Connor admitted he was also worried about tornadoes. I had Chris check the weather report and reassure him that there were no tornado watches or warnings in our area. I am suspecting this new fear of tornadoes has to do with watching Twister with them a couple months ago? Connor said he doesn't think so, but I think that is a little more than a coincidence. Honestly, Connor rarely gets scared by movies (that I know of!), but I'm thinking we'll stick more to the Disney, made for kids variety of movies for awhile.

Connor looked so vulnerable, worried, and frightened as he was telling me all this last night. I asked him if he would feel better if, when I was ready to go to bed for the night, I slept in his bottom bunk. And he asked if it would be okay if he slept in the bottom bunk with me. He is nine years old and this is possibly (probably) the only time he has ever asked to sleep with me. I couldn't tell him no. So an hour or two after he went to bed, I squeezed into bed with him. I feel bad that he has been so scared and never mentioned it until last night. I had a horrible night's sleep, not only because I was fighting for bed space and blankets all night, but also because Mattie was having growing pains in her legs and crying her heart out much of the night. So I was stumbling back and forth between bedrooms all night, trying to soothe her and minimize disruptions for everyone else. But I am glad Connor decided to admit he was feeling scared. And I'm glad he asked to sleep with me. His sisters loudly demand lots of attention pretty much 24/7, but he rarely does. He's so big and such a good, self-reliant kid, it's easy to forget he's only in 3rd grade. He still needs his mama and that's okay with me.

I'm happy I had the opportunity to sleep with my son. Who knows if he'll ever ask me again? That parenthood cliche about kids growing up too fast is painfully true. The next time Bethany asks to sit on my lap could be the last. The next time Mattie says, "please cuddle me a minute, Mama?" could be the last. The next time Lucy asks me to read a favorite book could be the last. One never knows. Sometimes independence shows up suddenly and unexpectedly. In the meantime, I will do my best to say "yes" as often as I can.

Don't I Deserve a Medal For This?

Earlier I wrote about my slightly bah humbug attitude this year. I was feeling down for a lot of reasons, and just generally bland about Christmas. Tonight there was a Christmas event at church that I've been taking the kids to for the past few years called Journey to Bethlehem. It's a neat way of teaching the kids the story of Jesus' birth. They decorate the halls and classrooms (there used to be a school at our church) to look like biblical scenes. A guide walks guests from room to room. In each room there are actors dressed in costume playing out the various scenes. The first one portrays Mary and Joseph as they find out about Jesus' impending birth. In the second room, a scary "Roman" dude tells everyone that under Caesar's rule they are required to register in the town of their grandfathers' birth, no matter how far away - and even with a pregnant wife. A woman in the third room tries to help guests find an inn to spend the night in during their journey. And in the fourth room is the stable with Mary and Joseph and the newborn Jesus. The props are pretty elaborate, and everyone does a great job with it. It's obvious that a lot of work goes into the whole thing. When the journey is over, there are cookies and punch and little craft projects in the gym. And of course bleachers for two-year olds to climb on and give their mothers heart attacks.

The kids look forward to it, which makes me happy because it's a nice (and free) non-commercialized Christmasy thing to do. A couple extra kids went with us, which made it more fun for the kids. And I was starting to feel a little more festive, a little more in the holiday spirit.

And then we went home, and the friends went home, and it was bedtime. I went upstairs to tuck my kids in. Let me just mention that my bedroom is not upstairs, it's the only bedroom on the first floor. So I don't spend a whole lot of time upstairs. As I approached the top of the steps, I was instantaneously annoyed by the mess I encountered. I'll spare you the details but UGH. I forgot my "sad, not mad" mantra and lost my temper. My kids got to hear their mother yelling right before bed. And I hate that. Lucy is sensitive, she was crying. I apologized for losing my temper, and got Lucy calmed down. But I feel *this* big right now (which is equal to about three quarters of an inch). That little bit of Christmas cheer I was starting to feel has fizzled and died.

Then I came downstairs and looked at my disaster area of a house which I have spent an absurd amount of time cleaning in the past week. How do I find the joy in this? The never ending battle against laundry, toys, vacuuming, dishes and everything else is bringing me down. Because no matter how much time I spend cleaning and straightening, it just keeps getting messed up. Over and over and over and over again. I know that's life, but it sort of makes me feel like I'm going to start hyperventilating because it's a claustrophobic feeling.

Somebody just give me my medal now and get it over with, please. You know, the one that says "Worst Mother in the Universe."