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.

The Mystery of Being a Sister

Maybe I should have titled this "The Mystery of Being a Sibling" because that's really what I'm talking about, I suppose. Growing up, I was alone. I mean, I often had people around me, cousins and grandparents and whatnot. But my nuclear family unit consisted of my mom and me. I was the only child of a single mother.

At the salon the other day, I overheard a conversation at the next chair over. I'm not sure if it was client or stylist speaking, but the woman said she was the baby of the family, by close to 20 years. So by the time she was born, her siblings were grown up and moving out, and she got to live like an only child, which she proclaimed was so ideal that she wouldn't change a thing about it. I hear this sort of thing a lot. People who are onlys, going on about how much they loved being the singular child. And I think to myself, "really?" Because I'm not sure I thought it was so great.

I moved a lot, as a kid. Which meant repeatedly going through the exhausting process of meeting new friends. I adapted and it's just what I did, but coming home to a sibling at the end of the day, someone who knew me before and I didn't have to work so hard for, well maybe that would have been nice. Maybe that would have helped me be more confident and less lonely. Because yes, I was lonely. I always made friends, and for most of my childhood we weren't far from our extended family, but at home it was usually just me.

As an adult, I'm still lonely...surrounded though I am, almost 24/7. I've come to think of life as a lonely state of being, as a general rule. We are each in this thing alone, no matter how many friends or children or sisters we have. Perhaps that sounds somber or melancholy. I just think it's the truth. Maybe I found this truth sooner because of my upbringing.

I grew up with quiet and privacy and solitude; craving chaos and noise and people. And now that I have very little quiet, privacy, and solitude, and plenty of chaos and noise and people, I find that I need to be alone, in silence, to think straight. If you're thinking, given the circumstances of my life, I must never think straight, well you wouldn't be far off. (Weak laughter. Because it's true.) Is this a detriment, to be blamed on only childhood? Or would I still be a person who needs quiet to think, even if I had grown up under noisier circumstances? Hard to say, but I think I am who I am.

After 30 years of being an only child, my world turned on its axis and the sun shone on a part of my life that I didn't know existed. I met my father and learned that I have four (half) siblings. I was a sister.

Something like this is hard to process, if I'm being honest. And the thing is, I don't know how to be a sister. It's not the kind of thing you learn, as far as I can tell. It's more something you're thrust into and is a part of what defines your being. But I was 30, and my being was already more or less defined. Wasn't it?

They have each other, and their shared memories and upbringing. I have my own memories, worlds apart from theirs. We share a parent, but is that enough to make us siblings? This is the new world order of siblinghood, undefined and unrefined. It's been eight years and I still don't know how to do it.

Brother and Sisters

Since I was an only child, sometimes it is just so foreign to me, dealing with four kids. I love the chaos, yet occasionally crave the peace and quiet I grew up with. However, there are times when I see them together, and how they interact and love each other and it makes every screaming fight worth it, and then some.


One day, as an example. At the park. Connor and Bethany are taking turns letting Mathilda sit on their laps as they go down the big slide.


Later on, at home. Bethany realizes she has enough money to buy the new 4G iPod Touch she's been saving for. Chris says he can list her old 3G on Craig's List so she can maybe get some of her money back. She says that she knows Lucy would like to have an iPod so she's going to give it to her instead of selling it.


Bedtime. I go upstairs to tuck the kids in. I go in Connor's room first, and find that Bethany and Lucy are in there too and they've decided to all sleep together.


Other things throughout the day. Bethany gets Mathilda out of her crib when she wakes up in the morning and brings her downstairs without being asked. Lucy and Mathilda share a snack at the park. Connor and Lucy are running around the house playing and laughing together. Countless other moments.


They fight. Sometimes they're downright mean to one another. But what they have is special and wonderful. The best gift we ever could have given them is each other. I hope someday they realize that, and never forget it.

Snapshot Of My Life: Bowling on a Wednesday Afternoon

Here is a picture (use your powers of imagination because I forgot my camera) of what it's like to go bowling with my family, which is what the kids and I did after school today with my mom.

• One cup of red fruit punch, spilled onto the floor, two chairs, a shirt, and a pair of pale pink tights.
• Three crying girls, they thankfully more or less took turns. 
• Countless trips to the snack counter, vending machines, and restrooms.
• French fries, nachos, soft pretzel, chips, and corn dog = dinner.
• One almost two-year old chasing a bowling ball down the lane, followed by her biggest sister chasing her.
• One eldest sister falling flat on her bum as she tries to prevent her baby sister from knocking the pins down by hand.
• One ball sent rolling down the wrong lane.
• Lots of cheering and rowdiness, with total disregard to performance or score.
• One four-year old girl dressed in an utterly mismatched outfit of her choosing, which, consequently, she also wore to preschool that same day.
• Proprietor marveling at the motherliness of one nine-year old girl, commenting to the mother of the girl, "your baby is taking care of your baby." Or something to that effect. 

Next time I will remember my camera. But here are a few pictures from yesterday of my baby who is sadly no longer a baby...

Looking eerily like a blue-eyed, red-headed Lucy

My little girls have a strange habit of wearing their sunglasses upside down

Finally got them right...but it's way cuter when they're upside down, don't you think?