"Mink" Farewell

Where have all the binkies gone? Please don't tell Colby, but they're hiding in a bowl on the kitchen counter.

It's amazing how many we have accumulated over the years. Because Luke is not a fan, this is goodbye--one of our first true finales of the baby days. I'm not sad at all that Colby will now advance in his speech and that he won't wake up looking for his binky and not go to sleep until someone retrieves it from under his crib. I am sad that he is both sad and mad about the loss of his precious "mink." It's been five days, and he is still asking for it, but not nearly as much as he was. I think we're going to make it!

I had no intention of not blogging for nearly a week. There were several nights I wanted to write, but it's always too late. Usually 11 p.m. Mornings come way too soon. This week was typical in that I had many trying moments, others that melted my heart and not enough time to truly finish any one thing.

On Monday, Lily woke me up in time for me to make her lunch and push her out to the bus. She only packs her lunch once a week, and she always gets a note. I like to imagine her happy little face as she finds it each time.

Colby had a particularly hard time without the binky that morning. There were tears. I didn't discover it until I parked an hour away at work, but I forgot one of the five bags that needed to get to the van at home on the kitchen counter. Luckily, I did hit my marks in getting four of four children where they needed to be.

That forgotten bag included a very healthy, perishable lunch and--oh yes, again--pump parts, bottles in particular. So I was inventive. And it worked.

There were a lot of spills this week. Today, coffee with hazelnut creamer was my perfume. I inadvertently treated the kitchen floor to Luke's hot, steamy oatmeal with honey. Yesterday, Colby may or may not have dumped fresh iced tea on the counter (in, around and under the Keurig, Mr. Coffee Iced Tea Maker and canisters).

I tell ya. This life.

But I've made it to this golden moment: Thursday eve with the work week over and my sights firmly set on the weekend. The snow has arrived, and I am ready to hunker down in my house and read a book. Oh, the kids, you say? What will I do with them? Hmm. They can build forts out of the cushions all day. When they hurt each other every two minutes, I'll soothe the boo-boo and yell at the offender. That should buy me two more paragraphs or so.

So blessings abound. They tuck themselves right in there with the conflicts, the cleaning sessions and the timeouts. They manifest in the golden moments when Lily and Max are happily playing school; in Colby's true helpfulness with laundry load transfers; and Luke's sweet open-mouthed, wet kisses.

And so it is.

Teaching Moments

Having four kids means I get a physical and mental workout every day, sometimes every minute of every day. I still picture myself in motion. When I think of the dance I do through this life, right now, I imagine I'm something like a spinning top or even the ball in the arcade-style ping ball machine. I'd like to be that graceful ballerina, with more limbs than tasks, beautiful lines, unending mute patience. And sometimes I am, but--let's face it--not very often!

While my legs and eyes are more tired than anything at this moment, I would have to say this weekend offered me more of the mental variety workouts. There were many teachable moments. Like when I had to try to explain why daddy was going to the doctor because we're done having babies, when the kids know it's mommy's body that changes, births and feeds those babies. Or when Lily excitedly and loudly proclaimed in Gabriel Brothers that she "found people from China!!" Or when we saw these beautiful double rainbows on the way home from a family dinner this evening. It was a driving rain kind of thunderstorm, but with the sun as bright as you can imagine. We were all searching for the rainbow and were doubly rewarded for, as I told the kids, "looking for the good thing in the storm."

But I have to say my most challenging teachable moment was trying to properly educate Lily and Max about 9/11 on this somber tenth anniversary. Yes, there were bad guys. About seventeen of them, I thought. They snuck weapons on planes, hijacked them, flew them into the towers and toward the Pentagon. They crashed the planes on purpose, killing everyone on board, killing people in the towers, and then killing even more as the towers fell. Many of those that died were firefighters and police officers helping others to escape. Yes, the bad guys were from other countries, BUT all people from other countries are not bad. Did we get them? Well, we got their leader, not too very long ago. He hid for ten years, but we finally found him. Was I alive when it happened? Oh, yes, I was. And I remember....

I remember a gorgeous sunny day in Columbus. I was sitting at my desk in my cubicle at the zoo, and I heard from a passing coworker that a plane hit the World Trade Center. Being the curious journalist I am, I climbed the stairs to the mezzanine to join others in watching the television coverage, stunned just as they were. The crowd kept growing, and so did the horror. I was twenty-two and scared for my country. I cried when the second plane hit and again when the towers fell. The zoo veterinarian gave me a hug, and I was reminded then, just like I'm reminded now, that no matter our sex, our salary, our situation, we are all Americans.

Those were scary days and, for some of my fellow patriots, the worst of days. Moms, dads, sons, daughters, husband, wives, friends and siblings were lost. Gone then, now and forever.

Some parents are shielding their kids from these images, those days, that terrible true-life story. But not me, man. My five- and seven-year-olds are old enough to know that bad things happen, that everyone is not their friend and that there are things adults can't fix. They are old enough, in their mother's estimation, to begin to learn that we're all in this together. We all feel sadness, we all cry.

They may have grown up a little bit more today. And so did I. But we also grew in love and in appreciation for each other. I won't let this crazy world make me forget to spend those precious minutes on the morning snuggle, to offer my open arms to misbehaving children, to mother up in my role as chief character builder, even when the lessons are hard.

Now, an hour past the bedtime I've decided I really should adopt, I'm signing off. On this tenth anniversary and always, may God bless the USA.

The Golden Rule

So last night was our annual Back-to-School Feast. This year's theme: "The Golden Rule, Treat Others As You Want to Be Treated." I admit I put some time, with Lily's help, into preparation for the event, getting the table just so, making some gorgeous paper decorations to complement the whole deal, making dinner and a double-layer, double-chocolate cake. Before you go calling me Martha Stewart, I'd like to also disclose that piles of clean laundry, in plain sight around the folding area of the easy chair in the living room, got to attend the party too. They are still there tonight, and guess what? No matter. Life goes on.


I got the idea last year for a back-to-school feast from a fellow blogger, and I am really digging it. I am happy to host these super kids to a meal in their honor every year before school begins. I like the idea of creating traditions that mean something, but, more than that, I like the idea of sending them off with a theme for the year. Last year's theme? "Do Your Best."

I was tempted this year by "Drink It Up" or "Stay Thirsty" in an attempt to remind them to enjoy themselves, but kids are naturally good at that. (It is we adults that need to be reminded.) In the end, the Golden Rule kept coming to mind. This world is getting harder and harder everyday. While I want my kids to do well, I also really want them to display a spirit of generosity and inclusiveness among their classmates. In a time where emphasis on manners often slips by the wayside, I want my kids (and by my, I mean mine and my sister's) to "treat others the way they want to be treated."


The party was a hit! Baked spaghetti, garlic bread, yummy cake, a marshmallow/toothpick craft and great company all played a part in another successful school sendoff.


Tomorrow, Lily and Julia enter second grade, and Jud takes on kindergarten. Maxwell will enjoy his second day of St. John's Preschool. There's an excitement in the air that can only come with fall. The slate is clean and ready.


Here's to happy, healthy kids, another year of growing in knowledge and love.


If they keep on learning, they'll never grow old.

Never Grow Up

It's a constant theme, and yet I keep learning it. It's not that I forget, really, but somehow, I have to be reminded. These days are precious. There will always be dirt, but these kids won't always be little.

We had a great weekend of camping with friends at Wolf Run. There were way more kids than adults, so, of course, it wasn't always relaxing. But there were a lot of hands and a lot of eyes, and it worked out beautifully. The food was great, the company was fantastic, and memories were made!


I've been thinking about seasons--not so much the seasons of the year, but the seasons of life. Dave and I, and the other amazing couples and single parents with whom we spent the weekend, are in the season of young parenthood. There are times you can't imagine ever getting out this season. While it is nice to feel needed, it's also a bit suffocating at times. As hard as it is to believe, these days will end. The kids will grow up faster than we ever expected, and it will be time for a new season.


So while the weekend was full of the busywork of caring for children, it was enjoyable and right. I had a couple moments of decompression, mostly later at night, when the kiddos were in bed and my mind wasn't racing to keep tabs on four little people. One of those moments was thanks to my dear friend, Traci, whose beautiful reason is pictured above. My girl has pipes like you wouldn't believe. She pulled out a song Saturday night that has been right under my nose for nearly a year. "Never Grow Up" by Taylor Swift. If you haven't yet really listened to it, you should.


Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up,
Don't you ever grow up, just stay this little.
Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up,
Don't you ever grow up, it could stay this simple.


You and I both know I am still fighting to find that balance in my life. To accept the past (all of it), to enjoy today, to not worry about the future. I'm consciously trying to keep money in its place -- not just in my wallet, but out of the realm of worry, out of the realm of utter importance. I'm always seeking that balance between work and home, and struggling with the 45 miles I drive between them.


But there are images like these, not art by any means, but snapshots of my most important little people, smiling and enjoying life, that remind me, that ground me. When this season of summer is over, I'll pack up and welcome fall, knowing summer will come around again, and that hopefully, I'll be here to see it along with the players of my life.


But when this season of my life is over, I won't see it again. I'll likely never be this tired again. I'll never be this needed again. And, more than anything, I may never been this blessed again.


I have to admit, in spite of the worries, I'm glad to have grown up. I've spent my whole life being an old soul, which is probably why motherhood suits me so well. And, of course, I want my kids, all of the kids in my weekend, to grow up. Please get to grow up.


But not yet. Ride your bikes in the 90-degree heat until your Daddy agrees to trade you his gel seat for your hard pink one. (True story.) Eat nothing but hot dogs if you want. You'll be fine doing that for a couple of days. Share string cheese with your adorable little friends.


And let's just keep this as simple as we can. You've all the time in the world to worry about the woes of life, real and imagined.

Please, for now, darlings, just don't ever grow up...

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.

Mother Up

I've been thinking about this a ton lately. I've been a mom for almost eight years. I've had four children in that time. I have been busy, tired, challenged, blessed. I once heard of a woman at Ohio University who choreographed a ballet based on the movements of motherhood. I often have that mental image of myself: gracefully nursing a newborn on one foot while swooping in with an arm and a tissue to wipe another child's nose and then pirouetting just in time to stick out my pointed toe to stop a third child from getting hit by a closing door.

My life has been one of rapid chocolate-milk stirring, endless details, mountainous laundry. But now, oh now, I believe the work will begin in earnest.

And, by this I mean, the work of motherhood is shifting. While I've been physically growing kids, keeping them out of danger, offering my own body as sustenance, I hope I have also laid the groundwork for good morals, awesome work ethics and general humanitarianism. Because now, I have a seven-and-a-half-year-old girl, which, for those of you that haven't heard, is the new eleven. That is to say, this girl is picking up the sass, being marketed to as a "tween" and wishing for, but thank God, not yet asking for, her own cell phone and laptop. She's seven!

She's at a very formative age. It's a pivotal time to be her mother.

And it's a whole new ballgame. If I play this inning right, I'll have the kind of relationship I really want to have with her as she ages and runs into the icky stuff: the mean girls, the steep learning curves, the dark corners and who knows what else! And, let's face it, her worst enemy might be herself.

How do I grow a girl who isn't full of herself, yet believes in and values herself?

I have the memory, the hindsight and the wisdom to know that finding myself was not easy. My daughter will have to do it for herself. It's one of those things: you can't get around it, you just have to go through it.

I have faith that we'll do this together. We'll keep talking about what is and isn't right, fair, respectable. We'll mess up, both of us. I already know I've made some mistakes. But I am going to keep pouring on the love. I'm going to remind myself that while the baby needs to nurse, the two-year-old is playing in the toilet and the five-year-old is "baking" in the kitchen, that there is a seven-year-old still keening to spend time with me, still needing those "snugglefests" and back scratches. She not only tolerates me at this point, but she wants me around.

So, you see, this is the work of which I speak. While my motherhood hasn't exactly been easy, I have a feeling it will become harder, in some ways. I'm up to the challenge. I'm going to "mother up" and do this with my eyes, arms and heart wide open.

These are the best days of my life. Never again will I have the opportunity to shape my children the way I can and will in the next decade.

Ain't nobody gonna hoe this row for me. It's time to "mother up."