From the Couch

Our baby turned one yesterday. He hit a major milestone just two days before his birthday with his first wobbly, adorable steps! It is a very fun time to be mom of this little, ornery, happy boy. His personality is shining bright, and he fits right in with this group of monkeys!

We've had so much sickness going on in our house this week that I'm not surprised that it finally knocked Mommy down too. I got a toned-down version after the party last night and throughout the night and day with body aches and a sensitive, but resilient, stomach. I spent most of the day on the couch, devouring Heaven is For Real, and being climbed about like a jungle gym. It was actually a pretty good day.

I can tell you with certainty that I am blessed. I am tired and feeling quiet, but I wanted to touch base. I am looking forward to a February full of love, a little bit of snow and more craziness with this busy baby and his energetic band of siblings. Life is good.

Better People

I had a fantastic weekend with my birthday girl and my family at the center. I lived in the moment, I celebrated my blessings. I saw the good in all things.

In doing all of this, I was struck by the fact that my little girl has grown into a wonderful person. She's funny and kind. She writes in a journal almost constantly. She draws, better than her momma. She says please and thank you. And she's adorable.

At one point, she wanted me to write in my journal while she wrote in hers. I was trying to nurse a fussy baby to sleep and led her on and on to believe I'd write in my journal with her, but--oops--fell asleep myself. But before I did, she was finding my place in my journal, and we came across a note in her writing. It was found by Daddy in August on the living room floor, and I taped it into my journal for all time. We read it together: "I snuk a book from my mom's closet. It is a high school musical Book. She was maybe saving It for my Birthday But to Bad I Have It."

And we laughed and laughed.... "Too bad, I have it!" she laughed.

It appears my girl has learned how to laugh at herself. And, while that might not seem monumental, it is. It took me a long time to not take myself too seriously. And sometimes I still have trouble with that.

Another thing happened this past week that got me thinking. I was in the basement, putting away clothes, looking for others in sizes and seasons I knew existed, and I ran upon a Pandora's box. It was a tote full of memories, mostly from my teenage and college years, but also an 8th birthday card from my Grandma and Grandpa Strahler, a letter from me ("Two-Ton Tony") to my dear Grandpa ("64-Ton Tony"), my First Communion Bible and all sorts of other precious things.

And that box grabbed me by the heart and wouldn't let go. I stood and read and cried and remembered for more than an hour. My knees begged me to give up but my heart gave in to the memories. In that box was a smaller box of letters from my father during a very pivotal part of my life. Reading them was like reading them for the first time. They were wise and sad and full of humility. And it reminded me of a driving force in my life, a hand that shaped me. There were lines of advice in there, in my dad's somewhat backward way and script, that showed me that, in spite of our differences, we both want the same thing: for our children to be better than we were.

These two events together tell me it's true: I've been saying, and others say it too, that I want a better life for my children than the one I've had. But instead, I think maybe I want my children to be better people. The life, the house, the wallet, those are all details. But If I can have a hand in making better people than I am, now that's something. Those better people will weather whatever they must. They'll shine up their places in this world, and they'll find a better way.

Here's to birthdays, to this day, eight years ago, when I became nearly everything I wanted to be. Here's to raising better people.

And to my mini-me, who spiked a fever on her birthday: Feel better, girlie. I love you!!

Five Years of Sweetness

I see a fire in this boy that tells me he's going to make positive changes. It's not an inferno or a flicker, but something in between. It's a slow, steady burn.

Today is Maxwell's fifth birthday. I still smile when I remember how hard I fought for a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) during my pregnancy with him and how proud I was to actually do it. Shrek and I were told it would be optimal for our second babe to be born during the business day while all hands were on deck in case I had to go to a C-section. I was pushing by 3:30 or 4, but feeling awfully sick, tired and weak. Shrek got right in my face, and said, "Let's do this, baby. We gotta get this baby out!" At 4:59 p.m., right on time, Maxwell David came into the world, and we all cried.

Since then, I've learned that my firstborn boy can be incredibly sweet. He's also shown the "Shrek" side of himself, but if we keep him fed, juiced and well-rested, it can be managed. While he has always been very emotionally intelligent, it's just been within the past two months that he's also become extremely interested in numbers, letters and putting pencil to paper. Like a light switch flipped, our Max has gone from barely coloring to writing out his own, very neat birthday list, which he insists hang on our fridge with the "5" magnet from the Leapfrog set.

He's a friend to all. He has one speed, and it is not fast. Daddy says he wishes he could ever be as cool as Max, who saunters through life with natural blond highlights in the summer, a carefree look on his face and a "hockey smile" with only one front tooth.

He's crazy about Transformers, Power Rangers, Monster Trucks and.... baking. He's awesome with the baby and indifferent to what he wears. He's an amazing little man, and I am so enjoying watching him grow up.

Happy birthday, baby boy! You are a huge part of mommy's sunshine and one of her favorite reasons. I love you so much, it hurts.

Happy Birthday, Dear Blog!!

Yesterday was my birthday, but today it's the blog's turn. Happy 1st birthday, baby blog!! You've grown so much in one short year. It's a celebration, to be sure, that this blog is still kicking, still claiming its real estate on the World Wide Web. It will not fall to exhaustion, depression or disrepair. "These Are My Reasons" is still a great title with worthwhile content and fantastic readers. Thank you all for hanging on my every word. You make me feel like we're all in this together! Please stay posted for change. I'll be relaunching soon, and there will be plenty of opportunities for you to help me out!

Life. It's real tonight. I'm crippled by its beauty, its ugliness and its unpredictability. Who could have known we'd all be in the places we are now? I pined for children, and now I have them crawling everywhere, making dirty laundry faster than I can believe and eating me out of the house, but with all good things like string cheese, ham, apples and endless peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. "Yes, Max, yours also has butter..... Yes, Max, I know you don't want it folded up. .... Yes, Max, there's butter under the peanut butter and jelly....."

Sometimes paradise wears a funny face. Don't be blind to your own.

I'm having serious trouble keeping my eyes open. The night promises to be long with kids with ear aches. This might not be the best post, but it is what it is, right? I'm happy and grateful to have been able to write it. I've said it before and I'll say it now, life is beautiful just the way it is.

Peace...

The Blessing of a Girlfriend

Today is my best girlfriend's birthday. Happy Birthday, baby girl!

I am thankful that 31 years ago a four-pound preemie made her early entrance into this world. I'm thankful she was a fighter and did well and grew up to play saxophone with me in the band. Saxes are sexy!

I'm so thankful for all the inside jokes. Take the bull by the horns!

I'm happy for so many memories of drinks shared around campfires at Lake Tweet. For that one blessed year that we lived together at 36 Morris Avenue and the funny times we spent on the roof.

I'm so glad to know the blessing of a best girlfriend.

For all the times we've had, the discussions we've shared, the times we've saved each other from ourselves and all that is yet to come: happy birthday, sweetheart. I love you! I am elated your day has been so happy.

January just might be a good month for a birthday after all...

Happy Birthday, Baby Girl!

Miss Lilith turned seven today. My baby, my first baby and my only girl, is seven. I can't tell you how the last seven years have changed me, how I have become the person I was supposed to be by becoming a mother. I can't tell you how many kisses I've given and been given, how many sleepless nights I've had, how many times my heart has bubbled outside the confines of my body. My motherhood began with a traumatic labor and delivery seven years ago today, and I am so glad.

Lily had a raucous, lively birthday party dinner complete with Jukebox Pizza last night. Four friends spent the night. It all turned out well, with Lily saying this morning, before they left, that it was her "best birthday yet." Well, she spent the rest of her day whining, crying and, thank God, napping. This is a girl who doesn't do well when she doesn't get enough sleep. So I'm not sure when the next sleepover will take place, but this one made her happy while it lasted.

She did calm down enough tonight for me to tell her a couple of stories from the day she was born as I gave her a bath. When daddy and a nurse accompanied Lily in her Isolette out of the operating room, I'm told our family and friends in the hallway swore she was a boy because of her overwhelmingly loud cries and the air behind them. She had the most perfect rosebud mouth, the best complexion and a striking palette of dark hair, blue eyes and red lips. Even in those early, overwhelming days of new motherhood, I was so incredibly entranced with her soft pinkness, her angel face.

After her bath, I got to read her one of our favorite books: Love You Forever by Robert Munsch. Lily sweetly sang along to the refrain that repeats throughout the book, which I can't help but sing:

I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always
As long as I'm living,
My baby you'll be....

I really am so proud of my tall, smart, conscientious little girl. She's a helper and a learner. She is curious and kind and happy. I am blessed beyond measure that God gave me a girl. She is not only a precious part of me, but an amazing separate self.

Happy Birthday, Baby Girl!

Twenty Years Ago Today

Twenty years ago today, a day after my 12th birthday, I started what I consider to be a "serious journal." As a kid, I had several One-Year Diaries, and, even at the ripe old age of eleven, didn't like being put in a box. I hated the feeling of missing days and feeling as though I'd somehow disappointed somebody, somewhere.

So the plan was to buy a simple notebook and begin my "serious journal" on my 12th birthday. Something happened and I didn't get that notebook in time. Hence, it was June 2, 1990, that my true writing career began. Sixty-six and a half novellas later, I can tell you--and anyone else, for that matter--that it was perhaps the best decision I've ever made and the one thing that has most defined who I am to the world and who I am to myself.

I'm a writer.

I'm also a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister and a friend, hopefully in that order. I am many things, as are all of us modern mothers, trying to make it all work on so many levels. I work part-time at a pretty important job. I dream of building a home on the family land on which I grew up. I'd like to be published, to write a novel or an autobiography. And it feels like it's time.

So, today, without much planning and much thought, I'm launching a blog. I'm not at 100% mentally right now. I've had a tough month. I've got three kids each under the weather in his or her own way. There's a raging thunderstorm outside my windows. I'm tired.

But, tonight, I celebrate me. I celebrate the time and space I've carved out for me to be a journalist. I celebrate the fact that I've had an amazing and interesting life and that the majority of it is down on paper, in longhand, in my own words. I celebrate both the miracle and the scariness of that written history.

And, as I search my soul for what I might end up doing with that written history, I invite you to read along. I've got about a million stories to tell, so I figure as long as I want to write this blog, I'll have the content. I'm not sure who my audience is, what my intent is or even whether or not this blog will exist in a month, but, for now, I feel like writing if you feel like reading.

These are my reasons.