Thirty Notes of Thanksgiving

Luke would like to thank his big brother for sharing his lollipop....

I love thank-you notes. I like getting them well enough, but mostly, I like giving them. So it was not a completely selfless idea for me to do a project I'm calling Thirty Notes of Thanksgiving.

The idea bloomed in my brain earlier this month as Facebookers everywhere started populating their daily updates with statements of gratitude as part of a thirty-day Thanksgiving. I didn't want to follow the crowd, but one day, the thought came to me that I could surely think of thirty people to thank, who have made a positive difference in my life this year, for whom I am thankful.

And so, on a trip to town last week, I bought a box of fifty beautiful thank-you notes. Over the course of three or four sittings, I wrote one to our pediatrician, the awesome custodian at work, several of my aunts near and far, to the people whom I call coworkers that keep me sane, to the old college friend who sent Lucas pajamas nine months ago when his birth announcement went out, and to the kind men at Huddle Tire, who take care of me and my trusty green Honda van when Shrek can't. I wrote one to my sister, my mom, the members of my village that help me raise my children. I wrote to three bloggers who have had a tremendous impact on me. (Shout out CJane, NieNie and Ani!) I put some in the mail, sneaked some into office mailboxes, purses and locked janitorial supply closets. I handed some straight to the blessings in human form.

It was fun. It was empowering. It was something I didn't have to do that I really enjoyed doing.

So tonight, on Thanksgiving Eve, I'm writing one last note to all of you. Thank you. Thank you for reading my thoughts and beliefs when I get a chance to harness them into this blog. Thank you for playing the roles you play in my life.

In a month or so, I'm going to be asking for help from all of you. It won't be hard, I promise. But I thank you now for the help you'll give.

May Thanksgiving, one of the most loving, comfortable days of the year, bring you peace, family or friends who may as well be and good food. May we all put our problems aside and remember to be thankful for the many blessings we receive.


Oh, and dear Lord, thank you so much for this healthy little butterball of a cousin born this evening. Sweet baby Quinten, you are fearfully and wonderfully made. And boy, did you ever luck out in the family department!

The Present

Ah, the crux of life. I'm so awed by the many moods, the many seasons, the many emotions of life. More than anything, I'm awed by the blessings, all around, everyday. We get so busy and so stressed that we allow the edges of our lives to blur, and we lose sight of the blessings. But they remain.

Tonight, I'm catching up Luke's baby memory book. I'm dreaming of sifting through the glossiness of new photo prints, which I hope to actually be doing within the month or so. I'm marveling in the fact that our four babes, of varying ages, are upstairs, snugly sleeping in the safety and warmth of their beds. I spend so much time thinking of the spacious house we don't have, the backyard we need, the expanse of land I would love to set a home on, that I lose sight of what we do have: a warm, cozy house full of love. I'm proud of the house we built....

We have food too. And toys galore. Oh my, the toys! We could play all day, and often, we do. I've begun my Christmas shopping, and I'm encouraging the kids to think of the five gifts or so they REALLY want, as opposed to the products they're brainwashed into thinking they need every time a toy commercial comes on television. Even Colby has become accustomed to seeking out my face to say, binky hanging and drool falling, "I 'unt dat."

But first, a birthday. My little woman is having friends over after school tomorrow. They will take in playtime, Jukebox pizza, self-built ice cream sundaes and "Dolphin Tale" at a nearby theater. Miss Lily has carefully selected the treats and assembled the treat bags. She has grown more and more excited each day. And this weekend is about her and her birthday, with a family party and then her actual birthday on tap as well. I'm planning to dial down and enjoy it with her: my little helper girl, who makes me laugh and carry on in in ways good and bad. She is precious, and she is growing way too fast. The next time she offers me a place at her table, whatever the activity, I promise, right now, I'm going to take it.

Her brothers also carry on and continue to grow in all kinds of ways. I'm realizing how my busy-ness and my stress robs me of the awareness to see how fast, in fact, time actually is passing. I, on a whim, looked at an old photo album tonight from 2007 and 2008. I had two babies back then.

The work of my everyday life bogs me down, makes me complacent and, sometimes, even mean. But I'm going to resolve, again, to slow down, to cuddle, to savor, to write down the things I never want to forget in my journal, a baby book, this blog. I'm going to print those photos and put them in albums that I'll pull out in a couple of years to remember these days. But, even more, I'm going to squeeze and love and mug on those four little people in all their physical, present glory. I'm going to live more in the now, and not so much in the tomorrow.

Today is a gift. That's why they call it the present.

To the Moon and Back

Dear Reasons,

Mommy's going away for a couple of days, but I want you to know how much I love you. Please be nice to one another and your caretakers. Please eat your food, and try not to kick one another. If possible, please remain healthy for at least the next 64 hours. If you must get sick, let me be the one to soothe you and wipe your brow.

If you forget your lovey somewhere, try not to throw a fit. A couple of tears are okay, though, because I know the comfort in home, and your lovey is part of the world we've built. If you see your brothers or sister crying, give them a hug. Let them know you'll always be on their side; that family comes first and family runs deep.

I've almost ditched my trip a million times in thinking of all the things you will need and all the ways in which I won't be able to help when I'm gone. But I'm going, just for a couple days.

I'll think of you almost constantly, because that's what Moms do. I'll wish on the stars for you and hold you in my heart always.

Be happy. Be free. Have fun! May God bless you and keep you safe.

I'll see you on Sunday morning, loves.

Love you to the moon and back!
Mommy

*Thanks to the amazing Kristin Pottmeyer for this beautiful photo. Find her at www.kristinmariephoto.com.

Skinny by Summer

One of the things I said many times in my early unexpected pregnancy was that with the baby due in February, I'd be "skinny by summer." Well, it's summer, and I'm not yet what I would call skinny. But, seriously, I'm not really the skinny type. I like to be healthy and strong, and have never been, nor wanted to be, anything like fragile. I have begun to miss working out, though, and I really do need to "whittle my middle" just a couple of inches. Just a couple of inches would expand my fitting wardrobe by about 100 percent.

And so, tonight begins a sit-up regimen. I'm going to work these obliques. I can't promise a lot right now in the way of fitness--other than the fact that I go through my life in an intrinsic ballet of motherhood every day--but I can promise sit-ups. And if I can get that done, I'll eventually want more of those feel-good endorphins. You know, if you give a mouse a cookie... Ah, well, maybe that is not the best analogy.

At any rate, I have about a million better things to think about than how I look in a bikini after having had four kids in seven and a half years, the youngest of which is only five months old. I am a smart girl, after all.

Life with my four blessings continues to amaze me. There are new challenges and rewards everyday. My little man Luke seems to be hitting a growth spurt. I'm getting even less sleep right now with all of his nighttime waking to eat, and he continues to love every spoonful of baby food. The other kids are tired, always it seems, but hanging in there. We will get caught up soon.

I'm excited for a long weekend of camping with several other activities sprinkled in. I'm ready for family visits around the campfire and pigpen kids climbing out of the creek. It's summertime in America, and I must get to a fireworks display.

But first, one hundred sit-ups! Isn't this fun?! Check back on Thursday, when I hope to post my midpoint review of how I'm doing with that New Year's resolution I made back on January 1st.

And how are you doing?

Love in Child Form

It's been said that babies are a wonderful way to start people.

It's true. Babies are really wonderful. I've always been a baby person. As one of the older grandchildren, I spent many nights with my aunts and their newborns. At 14, I mothered like you wouldn't believe. I've always found my peace in babies, in spite of the stress and havoc they can cause. I guess it's not surprising that I ended up with four of my very own.

Our young friend Ava, who has been battling a brain tumor, has found peace in Luke. While my other children have befriended her and taken care of her in their unique ways, Luke has also unknowingly found his niche in making her world a better place. In February, fresh from Disney World, Miss Ava came to the house to meet Luke. It was love at first sight.

Four months have passed since that time. Our baby has grown up a bit, and Miss Ava has continued to do what she does best: she's changed the community one person at a time and continued to brave the ups and downs of her condition.

One of the highlights of my weekend was watching Ava hold Luke again with her daddy's help. There were smiles and giggles. Pure love in child form.


I've been thinking that if we could all just see each other the way kids do, we'd be in a better place. We wouldn't see the past or the future, or the divisions we create.

We'd see that we're all gifts from God, with our own talents to bring to the table. We'd see that a four-month-old can make someone else's day just by his presence. We'd see that living well trumps living long.

Ava has shown so many of us that we can't be defined by the ways in which life is unfair. We can't dwell on the flat tire, the petty fights with our families or friends, the good fortunes of others in our own times of struggle. She's shown us to see each other for what we are: imperfect, yet precious; different, but the same.


Ava is a warrior and a teacher. She both loves and fights like a girl. She has lived her life out loud and has been heard by so many. Ava is love in child form.

Tonight, I lift her in prayer and stand on her behalf. May God hold her in the palm of His hand.