I love summer. I am sad to see summer on its way out. But there is something special about September. The crossover of seasons is pretty great too.
There's a special light in September.
The light coming through the window,
following us as we take the kids to school,
shining on our everyday moments like spotlights.
The September sunlight illuminates, glows and reminds us to savor every moment. Reminding us that it's going to get cold soon, days will be shorter soon. Reminding us that life is always moving faster and faster. Reminding us to soak up this light, soak up these moments and remember. Remember.
Remember a million lovely things. Here's the full poem that the above quote is from, Thoughts by Jacqueline Bouvier.
Today, I had a moment of greatness. It was fleeting most definitely, but it was a great f*#*ing moment. Wade's first day of speech preschool was this morning. Baby Wade was very excited to have his own school as all the big kids went back to school last week.
Let's face it, this kid needs to go get some schooling.
I pulled the mini van into the very familiar parking lot. You see, my other son JT spent two and a half years in various speech classes in the same building. I know it well. I got to the door and found no one. "Shit, I got the day wrong," I said under my breath. (The one perk of a speech delayed child is he/she doesn't repeat any bad words, there's always a bright side.) There would be nothing shocking about me getting the day, time or any other important detail wrong. I am not the most together, organized mama/person. But today was different, that moment was different. For starters, I was early. Since having my fourth child, I have never been early to anything, ever. AND today, I was THE mom. The mom that was calm and KNEW stuff. The other moms walked into the hallway (late, but I'm not judging) and they looked frazzled and worried, dare I say confused. The teacher came out to greet us and knew me by first name, giving me an "oh hey you" nod and smile. The other moms had questions and after the teacher left with the kids, they asked me, THE mom for answers. And shock of all shockers....I had real, genuine answers. It was my moment and it felt damn good. I dreamed of this day. When my oldest went to kindergarten I was that frazzled, confused mother at drop off. I felt like everyone had their shit together except me. I felt like I was ruining my kid's life because I forgot to remind him when his shoebox book holder was due. I remember one day running back into the school toddler in tow holding a baby in one arm and a half-ass decorated shoebox in the other arm. I was a mess. But I wasn't alone. There was a hallway of messy moms all going nuts over those stupid shoe boxes and their kids. That was nice to know I wasn't alone. But what was even better was Abby's mom. She walked down the hallway, no she sauntered, with a calmness that I truly envied. She carried a Starbucks coffee in one hand and nothing in the other hand. Who was this Abby's mom and how could I be more like her? "This your first?" she asked me with a non-judgy smile. I nodded. She explained that Abby was her youngest, she'd been through this before. "It gets easier, you'll relax," she told me. It was her moment. For five years I've been waiting to have a moment. A moment where I knew some answers. A moment where I cold saunter and tell people "this ain't my first rodeo" type stories. This morning was my moment. It lasted for 10 glorious minutes. Don't worry, I am not becoming some arrogant I've-got-all-the-answers mommy blogger.
The rest of my day humbled me greatly---from taking all four rowdy, yet lovable children to the pediatrician or the being told "you're a meanie, I don't like you anymore" repeatedly by my overtired new first grader--I have no answers. Do you have a moment? Leave a comment and brag about it, for real. Do it! Still waiting? No worries, it will come. In the meantime, watch some movies. Enter this Mommy Bear Media gift certificate giveaway. You could win $100 gift certificate to use to enjoy so many movies. Details below:
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I'm having a much better week. I'm trying to take the time to celebrate the good stuff--big and small.
The trees blooming early? Yup I'm celebrating that for sure.
Like the fact that baby Wade has made it two days in a row at the gym childcare without biting anybody. In case you're wondering, that is considered big in my world. Small stuff I'm celebrating? All my favs making it to the live shows on The Voice.
It's amazing what some sleep, an attitude adjustment and acceptance will do. Because essentially it's the same week--I fell off the wagon with my nutella and red wine; the kids are sniffling and seem to be getting a yet another new virus; the little boys are still coming into my bed at night and last night both of them peed in the bed. I mean these things would've sent me over the edge last Wednesday.
Obviously, I didn't use a hand model, yuck. But look at my newest nutella love, gluten free pretzels dipped in the good stuff!!!!! Oh my!
But due to a shift in hormones self-acceptance, it's all pretty good. And I am celebrating.
The big and small and ordinarily wonderful.
And it's mostly some kind of wonderful.
This song was a sad theme song for me last week. But this week, it is just beautiful.
Introduced to this beautiful duo, First Aid Kit, by bad ass blogger at Girl Gone Child. I adore that blog.
This song is my theme song this week. Old school Bonnie Raitt. Sigh. Enjoy.
So I made it through church without a meltdown. I made it through the weekend without a meltdown. I know, I know I am so braggy, right?
Oh don't you worry, there WILL be meltdowns this week as we get closer to moving day....Friday.
This past weekend was weekend full of Peter Pan and sledding.
Not what you thought I was going to say right? Well it was a bit unplanned. Friday night we had planned on going to Movie Night at our kids' school even though Tim wasn't too eager. So, when it started snowing hard he saw his out. "Well, it's snowing, I guess we should stay home," he announced with a little too much enthusiasm. The kids were pissed.
After a few tears, the kids decided to watch Peter Pan. Not the crappy Disney version, whichI have shared my dislike of before. But it turns out this version (circa 2003) was really good. The fight scenes were good. The humor was funny. And it had Coldplay songs. Awesome.
It really captured that whole magic of childhood thing. Of course I cried at the end.
Saturday I had to prep for a class I was teaching in church the next day. It just so happened to be about finding the magic in childhood. I couldn't get Peter Pan out of my head. So, Tim and I rented (yup we rented a movie at Blockbuster, which I didn't even think was still in business, but it is) the movie Finding Neverland. Because I wanted to cry a little more and it is just more Peter Pan awesomeness.
While outlining another cool agenda (like last week's class), I was wrapping myself in the whole idea of imagination and mindful parenting. I let the boys play a little too many video games while I was preparing to tell my fellow parents how to er, um, parent. When I realized, damn, it had been too long, those boy should stop playing, I told them they had to "turn off those video games now!" Again, the kids were pissed. But they also weren't stopping. They kept playing. "Let me finish this level." "One more minute."
Irritated, but not furious, I turned off the tv. Well I might as well have told them there was no Santa, we would never eat chocolate again, and worst of all the ipad was broken and we weren't fixing it, ever. They stomped around. JT, the five-year-old, cried and went to his room. Peyton, the 10-year-old, muttered something. "What did you say?" I asked. Busted, he looked down. "What did you SAY?" I repeated. After a few minutes of repeating my question in various tones, Peyton said "I said I hate her. That's what I said."
Ouch. It's so different to have your 4 or 5-year-old say "I hate you" than your pre-tween say it. It stung.
But then I just thought how stupid it was that he hated me over video games. I felt like telling him, "Dude, save it. There will be so many more reasons to hate me." Like when I tell him he can't go to that cool kid's party because his parents aren't home. Or when he finally figures out that if he gets a car when he's 16 it will be so he can help us pick up his younger sister and brothers and drive them around. So many reasons. He has no idea how much he is going to hate me.
So as I prepare for the onslaught of hate, I know I have to toughen up. But I also know that I have to enjoy the magic of the moments now. And as I think about all the lessons this Peter Pan-filled weekend has taught me I realize a few things. Like the fact that yes, most of the time I have to be all about rules and limits, but I can also understand and empathize with why my kids don't get it. And that's okay. It's nothing personal. And I can have a little fun too. Because it's all a little magical and it's going fast.
If you're still reading, here's my cool agenda from Sunday's class:
Slowing Down and Making Moments Memories
Wash, Rinse, Repeat:
Some themes discussed last week that are still brilliant.
1.Sovereignty:
It’s the key to mindful parenting. In honoring our children’s sovereignty, we make it possible for them to do two things: show themselves in their “true seeming,” and find their own way. Both are necessary to come to full adulthood.
Having a sense of self, an identity, core values is the
foundation for “everything great.”
2. Every moment is a new beginning, another opportunity for
tuning in and perhaps coming--in that very moment--to see
and feel and know ourselves and our children in a new and
deeper way. Everyday Blessings
Week 2: The Magic of the First Mile
Today we will discuss who you were, who you are and focusing on the magic in the First Mile....for you and your kids.
We’re Almost Done with the First Mile
1. A Senior Moment-You’re not a freshman parent anymore.
-Do you ever find yourself wishing time away?
-If I Could Keep You Little is a book about NOT wanting to
keep your children little and truly encompasses the
sovereignty theme.
2. What the hell is the first mile?
-Kelly Corrigan writes with profundity in her book Lift about the
first mile: I am your mother, the first mile of your road. Me and all my
obvious and hidden limitations. That means that in addition to possibly
wrecking you, I have the chance to give you what was given to me: a decent
childhood, more good memories than bad, some values, a sense of a tribe, a
run at happiness.
-She goes on to say: You’ll remember middle school and high school, but
you’ll have changed by then. You changing will make me change. That
means you wont’ ever know me as I am right now--the mother I am tonight
and tomorrow, the mother I’ve been for the last eight years, every bath and
book and birthday party, gone. It won’t hit you that you’re missing this
chapter of our story until you see me push your child on a swing or untangle
his jump rope or wave a bee away from his head and think, Is this what it
was like with me? This is not told to you to depress the hell out
of you. It is meant to inspire mindfulness and thoughtful
parenting.
-Have any of you thought about the first mile or this concept
before?
Your Inner Child (yup, we’re going there.)
According to Corrigan, the average person knows less than ten stories from their childhood. Does this statistic seem accurate? What does our early childhood mean if we can’t remember it?
Would you like to share any pivotal or meaningful memory from your childhood?
Getting to Know You (I hope all of you are singing this in The King and I style
Corrigan describes our self-sabotaging ways empathetically: People rarely rave about their childhoods and it’s no wonder. So many mistakes are made. I see how that happens now, how we all create future work for our kids by checking our cell phones while you are mid-story or sticking you in the basement to watch a movie because we love you but we don’t really want to be with you anymore that day, or coming unhinged over all manner of spilt milk--wet towels, unflushed toilets, lost brand-new! whatevers.
Feel like sharing any shortcomings? Again we won’t judge you, we will either nod in agreement or silently feel a lot better about ourselves.
I sat in a meeting last night talking about and planning children's activities. I looked around the room and noticed I was a senior, a senior parent. Possibly not the oldest mom, but my oldest was one of the the oldest kids.
I remember when I was a kid and watching all the John Hughes movies about teenage angst and love, to be a teenager was the coolest thing ever. To be a senior was the raddest thing of all. I couldn't wait. Then I got to teenagehood and realized it was f-ing hard. Aside from having a crazy mother we didn't really know was crazy yet, I don't think I did such a great job as a teenager.
I could be all nostalgic about 80s movies because I watched part of my new favorite movie Easy A again today.
"I never did hard drugs." That's my big achievement that I always brag about.
Maybe it was the whole crazy mother thing (can I blame this on her?), but I didn't really navigate the social landscape very well. I didn't understand girls and friendships very well. There were a lot of problems when I was a teenager, my mother, did I mention her? Actually both my parents moved to different states when I was in high school, without me. Waaaaah. But to be honest it did fuck me up a little. And the whole no drug thing is a pretty big miracle.
Anyway, I couldn't wait to be a senior and then be out of there. Move on. Because I was sure it would get easier.
Me, circa 1992.
Off to college (which not a lot of people thought I was capable of), which turned out to be a hell of a good time. But it too was full of drama. And I still didn't navigate social situations with much finesse. My mother was getting crazier, can I blame her again? Just kidding (about the blaming, not the crazier part). Still no drugs for me, okay not a lot of drugs.
But again, I was over it. I couldn't wait to be a senior and then be out of there. Move on. Because again I was sure it would get easier.
Out of college and on my own, it was pretty easy. I loved being on my own. Living alone. It was perfect for someone that didn't navigate social-land all that fabulously. I had friends at work and then I would go home make dinner for one and watch my real friends on ER and Seinfeld.
Life was pretty good. But then I had to go screw it all up and fall in love. Of course I am kidding. I fell hard and fast for my husband. Got married fast. Had kids fast. And honestly loved every minute of it. My social awkwardness seemed to not matter as much.
Look at how ancient this picture looks! It is me in the hospital right after the epidural, awaiting my first born's arrival. The phone cord, the camera....too much. Lol.
But I still found myself falling into that whole "it would get easier" mindset. The babies won't sleep, ugh. Don't worry it will get easier when they are older. Potty training sucks. Older=easier. God, all they want to do is be held. Older=easier.
But just like every other stage/phase of my life it doesn't get easier. Most times it gets more intense in different ways and I am nostalgic for simpler times.
So back to that meeting last night. I am the senior parent that's been on the committee for what seems like a million years. There were a couple parents with very young children talking about how excited they were for different activities, like a daddy/daughter dance. There was one dad in particular that just beamed when he talked.
My god, he was positive. Did I look like that? Was I ever that positive? Probably not.
So I am that senior, rolling my eyes at the eager freshman with all the school (parent) spirit. Too cool for school? Maybe. But I am learning to appreciate the moments. Stop wanting time to move on. It could be that I realize I am getting old and the time has stopped to wish it away. Or maybe, I am finally able to relish that my kids still want to snuggle on the couch.
All four of my children playing Barbies with the best dad ever. Who would wish this away?
I don't want to hold them back, but I do want to enjoy the moment.
Because one thing I know for sure is, time will go fast and we will on move on. And when I really think about it, I am in no rush to get out of this phase.
Okay, sorry I can't stop with the Easy A clips, but I really hope I am as cool as these parents. Seriously, because I know it won't be easy.
It's been quite a year... Looking back through pictures I can tell you a few things for sure: My family loves eye black.
I am not afraid to get real. Here are a few of the not-so-top moments of 2011 too.
My Nick Nolte moment.
This one happened last week when JT said "stand together with your arms at your sides so I can take a picture." We are good listeners, but it's really not the most flattering picture.
Life is FUNNY.
Life is silly too. And we need to do silly things.
My sister isn't known for being silly. She is the serious big sister caretaker, get it done kind of gal. My whole life I have looked to her for approval, love and what to do to get things done. This past summer she turned 40 and we celebrated with a trip to Hilton Head together, with the rest of our families. Our kids enjoyed the beach, the ocean (minus the damn jellyfish attacks), the fancy house, the great food....but when I asked Lucy what her favorite part of the trip was, she said it was "when you and Aunt Dana jumped in the pool with your clothes on." Okay? Really? Cuz that was free. But it wasn't just free, it was silly.
Silly and free and fun.
And unexpected. Me jumping in the pool, silly, but maybe they all saw it coming (I am not known as the serious sister, shocking I know). But my big sister Dana jumping in fully clothed and at night? That shit is crazy. And simply fun and wonderful.
"Breakfast kiddos!," I announced full of anticipation and hope. I was serving up a favorite---cinnamon toast, sausage links and fruit. (Toast of any kind is a big deal in our house since going gluten free. Bread making is time-intensive and takes a lot of planning---two things I don't have, time and planning-ahead skills.)
"Where's my pancakes?" asked Peyton as he sulked into the kitchen.
"Every morning I have to walk all the way to the hook and get my backpack, geez," huffed Lucy as she stomped through the room on her way to the dreaded hook. (Remember our house is under 1,200 square feet, so no where is a long walk. Not even for a 7 year old.)
Like usual I stood there with a dumb, confused look and frozen smile that begged the question "why don't you like me?" I put down the sausage pan and said, "You know this isn't a Disney movie and I am not stupid old Cinderella."
Not sure if it was the sausage withholding or the idea that I called Cinderella stupid, but I got their attention.
"I am not singing with cute little mice while I make your breakfast and clean your rooms. Just to have you act like the mean step-sisters and not treat me nicely," I stated as I danced around singing like Cinderella in a high-pitched voice. We all laughed.
It was a new spin on an old speech, but it made us all smile and we had a nice breakfast. I bought another hour of respect, er, um, I guess you'd call it that.
And even though it ain't Disney, my life is pretty magical.
