Not the Bolger Way

I was recently talking to a friend at work about my Step Mom's recent diagnosis with cancer.  She listened to me ramble on about my concern over wishing they were closer, wishing I could hear what the doctors were actually telling them, wishing I could bring meals over...Basically there's a lot of wishing going on right now.  She looked at me and finally just said, "Here it is.  You can do what you can do, but you have your family to think of as well.  Your Dad picked his life and he will deal with it."  Truthfully the words felt a little like a surprise kick to the stomach.  I know in my heart that's true, but that's just not how I was raised.  Plainly...that's not the Bolger way. 

When I first arrived down in Santa Barbara after my Dad had called me about my Step Mom, I was overwhelmed by all the concerned phone calls coming from his brothers.  The two I talked to directly told me that they were ready to drop everything and come down whenever they were needed.  One even made a point of calling and checking in every day.  Now that to me is family.  That's people that get it.  I made a comment to Rick about how wonderful that felt.  Here we were all feeling like the walls were caving in, but the Bolger Boys were ready to show up with Pa's ole tool box and try to fix them.  


Even thinking about recently when my Grandmother passed away and how quickly everyone was on the phone calling back and forth.  There was no squabbling over finances.  No battling for her last worldly possession.  They all just wanted to mourn. To remember.  Just to be together and be a family.  

My sweet beautiful young cousin got married this last weekend and as I watched this almost two table full of Bolger's I could help but think this is one lucky boy.  Heck he is marrying into one hell of a loving family.  My uncle got up and talked about family and how he was feeling it so strong.  He equated it to a village and how lucky they were to have the support of the village.  The round of applause on that one was deafening.  It was hard not to feel the love in the air from the couple, but from the support in the room.  

It's an interesting thing to be a part of and fascinating to think about.  What makes this family so strong?  They get together and laugh, dance, surf, you name it.  What was the root that made this tree so strong?  I just want to make sure my family is graphed on from that.  I want that same strength. I want to know my girls will have that same pull to gather and spend time together.  I know for sure this summer has been a trying one and my little village has been the only thing holding my crumbly cookie pieces together.  

I hope my girls can remember when they feel like the world is against them and nothing is going right that all they need to do is turn around; the village is behind them.  It may appear small at first glance, but they need only look hard to see that it stretch far.  And look there's one holding a beer and doing a little leap.  


God love this family.

The Pink Hat

Well in the chaos that is my life right now, I inadvertently threw into the wash what has been lovingly been referred to as 'the pink hat'.  I got this hat while on a camping trip to Big Sur with a dear friend and it brings up such good memories of freezing at the ocean's edge, campfire mornings, and gazing up at the redwood canopy that was our living room ceiling.  So when I pulled out this memory maker, all warm, perfectly pink, and now ten sizes too small I was not all too pleased.  However, it did get me thinking about all the hats I wear in a given day.  How some fit perfectly, some maybe I wish I didn't have to wear and others that seemed to be just right are now the ones providing endless amounts of worry and stress.

Each morning I wake up I style my hair and on goes my Mom hat.  It's the one with the large brim.  It's sturdy in case I get pulled into the trenches.  There is as much food throwing as there is excuse tossing, so this hat is easy to clean.  Tear, rips, holes are nothing for this hat.  It can handle anything.  Once I received this hat, I put it one with pride and exuberance and there is no way I would let anyone borrow it.

When I turn to the side and you see some frill, that's the wife hat.  Still trying to be cute, but under the frill is some tough canvas.  It's wanting to work, collaborate if you will.  This hat understand if sometimes it slips to the back, but its confident its on and it laughs because it knows that Mom hat wouldn't work so well without it.  

Could there possibly be any more room on this head you ask?  Heck yeah.  The daughter hat sits at the back.  Its a heavy hat, especially when you're an only child.  When no other brother or sister shares your hat and you must carry it yourself, the weight sometimes becomes unfathomable.  But it's a hat you wear every day and you remind yourself how important it is.  You realize that there will be a time that you will get to retire this hat.  That thought makes you wish you could grab strings and tie your daughter hat on just that much tighter.  For though it may feel like the heaviest of hats, when it's not yours to wear anymore the void and emptiness on your head is not easily forgotten.  

The rest of my head is filled with friend hats.  Some are small and some are large. Some take more effort to get on. Some fit perfectly.  You find that those that take little effort are the ones that you reach for first.  The ones requiring hassle and maintenance soon become your occasional hat.  The hat you wear once a year and pull out for a party.  

So as I sized up my mini pink hat and thought about all my life hats, I stopped and realized that although I would like to run from some right now and curl up inside others that's not how it works.  They are all good hats, ones that I love.  Sure some are easier to slip on than others.  Yes I wish they all fit like my wife and mom hats, but some will again and others I will resign myself to putting on the shelf.  These hats make up who I am. They define me.  Whether I cock them to the side and wear them with style, well that's up to me.  And you better believe I'm going to do my best.

 

Thanks Goodness I Was the Only

My Mom graciously volunteered a few weeks ago to attend a memorial service with me for a dear friends Mom. I started to think about how truly lucky I am to have a Mom so willing to drop everything and move her plans to come here and there for me.  She babysits, attends kids concerts, is my memorial service date, and that's just to name a few things.  I started to wonder how I would ever be able to manage the same level of Motherly aid with three.  I'm only one and I'm sure I keep my poor Mom busy enough. But I can only imagine when my girls are grown trying to juggle all they will want me to be a part of (well hopefully).

Just the other day the girls and I were driving in the car and each one was spilling the contents of their day through stories and songs and even that I was having a hard time giving my full attention to.  I remember one time my Mom talking about her best friend who was the Mom of five children.  She basically just said that she couldn't do everything for everyone.  I mean I get that.  There is only so much time in the day. And people do need to have their own lives.  However, my Moms (heck my parents in general) involvement in my life has been enriching for not only me but my kids.  I hate the idea of not being able to be as actively involved.  I hate thinking a little thing like time will get in my way.  And God forbid if I'm working that will really cramp my style.  I think Rick and I both hope that someday we will be those Grandparents that take their grand-kids to the park and pick them up from school.   

We've also been fortunate enough to always live in the same state.  Will the adventure bug get a hold of any of my girls?  I can't imagine they will all end up being home bodies like Rick and I were.  We all love California, but there is a big world to see and they know it.  That definitely throws in a whole level of complexity.  I can still remember calling my Mom from San Jose State to come pick me up when I had the "flu" (yep we've all had that kind of flu before).  She just had to drive up the street and then I was home in my nice bed getting the TLC only Mom can give.  With three they are dependent on me but definitely not the same way an only child is.  They need me, but they are already more independent than I ever was even in college.  I love that about them. 


Maybe what I'll discover through raising these wonderfully independent strong women is that they won't need us quite as much.  They will want us to come visit but a phone call every couple weeks instead of every day will suffice.  Their wings are small, but already strong.  Sadly, I've raised them to be this way.  I'll probably wish to be more involved than they will ever want me to be.  Sure I will most likely have one that needs more attention than the rest.  Or they will take turns at different times in their lives needing the comfort of ole Mom and Dad.  However, the juggling that I am thinking I might have to do might not ever happen.  Part of me will be sad. The other part will take joy knowing we raised some tough cookies.

What is family?

I talk a lot about Family, but what is family really?  

Truthfully they are the people you seek out in a crowd.  The ones that put a smile on your face and moments later bring you to tears because it's so good to see them.  They single handily energize and drain you of your last ounce of juice.  Are you born from these people or did you carry them for nine months?  Not necessarily.  

Through life's journeys we are somewhat like a big rolling rock that picks up innocent pebbles along the way.  Some stick with us and others fall off.  Those that stick, we keep them close and adopt them.  We throw them into that ever growing somewhat vague bucket we call 'Family'.  Sometimes those new adopters become closer than our family members and they feel like they were just there all along.  Some distant relative we are just now getting acquainted with.  

Are we always wonderful to our family?  No.  But they love us despite of ourselves.  They choose to remember us as we once were, as we could be again.  Family is the first in line to tell you how you are screwing up and how you could fix it.  If you feel someones hand on your shoulder giving you a shake. Don't worry...it's someone that loves you.  

With all that love comes the feeling that with these people you can just be yourself.  Stop for a minute and think about what that means. For some it may mean singing a song with all the wrong words at the top of you lungs.  For others sitting around sans makeup which may mean all those "beauty marks" are out on display.  Who knows what is mean.  But whatever it is, what is so great is that you are trusting in the fact that the people that you have classified as family, whom you have deemed worthy enough to drop your guard down with, will love you whether you know the words to the song.  They will love you with make up or without.  They just love you. 

I have thought a lot about family this week.  Tomorrow my Grandmother and my dear friends Mother will both have memorial services in their honor.  They both so strongly believed in Family and the meaning of it.  So for both wonderful ladies I dedicate this weeks blog writing to them.  May they rest in peace.

The Wild One Turns 3!

This week, it's a no brainer...the wild one is turning 3!!  I truly cannot imagine where the time has gone.  Rick said today that felt like Jess was already three because it's felt like she has always been with us.  I agree with that statement, but I definitely feel as though she has completed us.  We were, what I thought to be, a pretty darn good little family.  However, this miracle dawning a tutu, a sassy attitude, and the cutest darn smile you ever saw came on the scene and totally changed my mind.  Jessamine Mae Riebhoff is exactly what this family needed.

It's funny to glance around at pre-J pictures still hanging in the house. They look so empty to me.  For such a tiny little thing she has filled up a big space.  I used to always say about Gabby that she could run into a room and suck all the air out of it.  In a good way.  Well Jess does the same.  She is a strong little presence.  Maybe it's her sisters support and love.  Maybe it's the fact that as the third she has been taken everyone, thrown into every situation, and just been told to go with the flow.  This child is flexible, confident, and dare I say, independent.  I know that sounds a little crazy saying that about a three year old.  I'm just callin it like I see it.  


We went to an art showcase at the school the other night and Jess ran after her sisters, walked around the camps like she owned the joint.  She wasn't looking around for me.  In fact, she didn't even want to hold my hand.  A month earlier we had been at a birthday party and she asked if she could go inside and play dolls.  No other kids were inside and she didn't ask me to go with her.  She just knew what she wanted to do and went for it.  


Ok, so she's confident and cute as all get out but probably what is most special about her is how she makes everyone feel.  Just to watch my Mom's face light up when she gets one of Jess' hugs or to see her sister put down her book when she peeks over the top of it to say 'I love you sissy'.  I won't even bring up how crazy my Dad is about this kid.  She just warms your heart.  This child is pure love.  God knows we have smothered her with it, but she just has a good core.


People always want to know who she looks like and who she most acts like.  On the outside she is my sweet husband all the way.  She has his twinkly blue eyes that get excited when she tells stories or sees something she likes, just like him.  It's fun to see the two of them together.  Peel apart the onion though and you have a mish mash of goodness from all of us.  Jess has the best part of both of my oldest girls.  Even some of the stuff she does that gets her in trouble I still consider to be the best stuff since it will help her in life.  No one ever said strong-willed children were easy to raise. 


So tomorrow I will go in as always to look in and see my beautiful baby girl.  She will have one bebe in her mouth and a slew of others thrown around.  I will pick up that big 3 year old and thank my lucky stars that someone liked me enough to bless me with someone so wonderful.  I will hope that she will continue to keep her spirit, maintain that confidence, know the love of her family is there with her, and enjoy the next year as much as she has this one.  Happy Birthday my wonderful wild child.

Sister Love

One of my co-workers is getting ready to say happy graduation to her oldest daughter on Saturday.  She has two girls, with very similar personalities to my two oldest. We often swap stories and it's fun to hear about them growing up and what I have to look forward to. And yes, I'm cringing a little bit. She came in this morning to show me a picture of the two of them all dressed up hugging each other. Her comment was, "look how much they love each other."  I couldn't help but think about how many pictures, memories I have of my girls together laughing and loving one another.  I was quick to point out that it's easy to take for granted how truly lucky we really are.  I've seen quite a few examples of siblings that are quite an amorous.  So call it good parenting, luck, whatever.  It's a gift and one to treasure.  

I'm reminded as I grow older how my parents opted to just have one of me.  I am fairly high maintenance I guess they figured one was enough to keep them busy.  I don't recall a lot of my childhood and I partly attribute that to my lack of a sibling. I think having sisters and brothers help keep you connected. Whether you like it or not, you are tied to the past, to your family.  I always remind my girls how important it is to take care of your sisters.  I get a slight tinge of jealousy sometimes thinking about the bond they are developing, something I didn't have growing up.  


I can still remember a few years ago when my girls were playing with some friends and Alex and the other girl were not being nice to Gabby.  I might add, the other girl was instigated it, of course.  Gabby stood there with her hands on her hips and screamed at Alex,  " you need to stop it, you are my sister, you're supposed to stand up for me!".  I was so proud of her.  That night I sat on the side of Alex's bed and I told her that Gabby was entirely right in what she said and that I hoped she remembered how much passion her sister had behind those words.  The same passion that she had towards taking care of her.  Gabby has always been a great big sister.  In turn, Alex has turned into a pretty darn good big sister with her baby sister.  I was watching her last night hold hands with her little sister tagging along at a school event. I know she really just wanted to run along and play with her friends, but she was careful to keep a close eye on her little tag along.  


Today, unfortunately, I got a firm slap in the face on how important those familial bonds can be.  My parents came up for the weekend and my poor Dad hadn't been here more than an hour before he got a call that his Mother passed away.  He is lucky to have three brothers and a sister and all of them were on the phone sending love and talking about what to do.  What a relief to have that support.  I got a call from my cousin, the closest I have to a sister, and we laughed and cried together.   A great reminder of the strong bond of family.  I am go grateful my girls will have that and I hope they will remember to draw on it and gain strength from it. 

I know my girls lives will push and pull them in different directions.  I can only hope they will glance back through the pictures, the home movies, recall the memories and smile. I hope that like my co-worker daughters, every picture tells a tale of siblings who love each other.  And, like today, when their world falls out from under their feet, I hope they reach for their sisters hand and find it right there waiting for them. 

Be Your Own Robot

My sweet Lulu came home from school yesterday with a book that she had worked on in school about a robot.  Basically the kids used black squares and rectangles on various pages to tell the story of how this little robot transforms himself into others things.  Like on Monday he transforms into a dog, Tuesday a rocket, etc.  You get the idea.  So I'm listening to Gab do her nightly reading and I see Alex going through her robot book and finally get up and leave to head to the kitchen.  When it's her turn to read I finally have to call her in because she is obviously working on something.  She reads through the robot book of course which is cute, but it's the addendum page that she has been working on that catches my interest and puts a huge smile on my face.  

On the back cover of this little blue paper book is a new ending.  One where the robot actually turns back into himself because he likes himself the most.  She even adds that he never will change his shape again.  Then goes on to include, "The moral of the story is never try to be something you are not."  Ok I guess I'll pack up my Mom bag and head out, my work here is done.  Hardly...but when your kid takes it upon themselves to tell a story, realize there could be another ending with a positive message, rework it and then add a "moral", that's just good stuff.

I recently read a friends post on Facebook where she had referenced an article that talked about all the things the author wanted for her child.  It was actually a great article and one that I could totally agree with.  Since the author had a son she didn't really reference image and being proud/loving who you are.  I bring up the fact that she had a son and not a daughter more out of reasoning for why she did feel being true to oneself important enough to make her list. I can image that for most that issue is a female one.  I'm sure males suffer with image and trying to find their way, but females from day one are thrown into those pink tutus and sent down that pink path.

I noticed an interesting change in my oldest daughter around the middle of first grade.  She no longer wanted any dresses, any pink clothing, no frills.  I am a true believer in the individual.  I struggled myself with trying to figure out who I was and what my style was, my vibe, so to speak.  So I am all in support of expressing yourself, as long as we are not wanting to die our hair purple.  Trust me I'm sure that day will come. I'm just not ready for it quite yet.  Well anyways...I went along and swapped the pink for black, removed all traces of cuteness for edgy and followed along on her creative journey to express herself through clothing.  Interestingly enough now in 2nd grade, we are back to wearing dresses, we enjoy pink, and have even been known to sport a bow or two.

It's interesting as a Mom and Woman to watch your girls go through finding their groove.  I would rest easy at night if I knew Alex was always going to walk through life living true to the ending of her robot book.  However, I'm a realist.  I know how strong friends, media, life can influence.  Sometimes in a good way, hopefully in a good way.  I'm just taking small pleasure in the fact that right now, at this moment in time, she loves who she is, and can't understand being anything else.  So innocent and simple.  Little does she know its not so simple.  Oh well...let's just enjoy the moment.  I love my Robots. 

The Socially Conscious Child

I'm watching my three little blued eyed sweethearts at the breakfast table the other day listening to their Daddy explain why a free market is so great.  Alex gave up after she couldn't figure out why it was bad for the price of apples (in Rick's example) couldn't be determined by the government. Good ole Gabby was hanging on to every word trying to really figure it all out.  The little one was just wondering why there was all this apple talk and no actual apples at breakfast.  Our house is always filled with conversation and messages about what is happening in the world.  Makes me wonder if every child is growing up being so "aware".

I can still remember sitting at Starbucks having breakfast before getting ready to take our first trip to Disneyland with our then two kids.  We were trying to get Alex to pick her theme for her birthday party.  Here we were surrounded by princesses, pink galore, Disney extravaganza.  What does my little darling pick as her theme?  Save the World.  I can still remember looking at her, jaw dropped, quickly followed with a, " say what?".  She had heard us talk so much about how important it was to save the world with recycling, planting, etc.  So being in the happiest place on Earth wasn't going to change the fact she thought saving the World sounded like a pretty darn good theme.  And let me tell you that still stands out in my mind as one of our better parties. Plus just the fact she came up with it meant during one of my many rantings about recycling or turning off the precious water, she was actually listening.

Then take my Gabby who two weeks ago ran across some paper puzzles that once put together spelled out a great message about recycling. Well that gal gathered up all 10 of those extra puzzles, handed them out to her classmates sitting around before school, asked them all to put them together, and then asked her teacher if she could hang them up around school.  How proud I was to see one hanging up on the front office door.

Obviously I am a pretty passionate soul.  It doesn't take much to get me excited about a story, a great cause, you name it.  Seeing my little people jump up and take action fills my heart with such joy. Sure you can sit down and read about people doing great things or you can take action.  I hope that's the road my girls take.  I hope they care about what is going on in their world. That they pick up a paper and give two hoots about people on the other side of the world that are struggling.   I hope if they can give a dime or a dollar, they will and will appreciate how lucky they are to be able to do that.  But most of all, I just hope they are aware.  The people that live in their own magic bubble of happiness.  Well...more power to them.  I prefer to live being happy but firmly aware and socially conscious.

Mother's Day Week

This was a tough one since I had a completely different post in mind for this week, but switched mid-way since it is Mother's Day week (as I was told).  On Monday I came home to little girls running up and down the hall, whispered conversations and numerous pinkie promises that I would no go into the kitchen. The girls had created a face on a place made out of salami - too cute.  A Happy Mother's Day sign on the floor made with muffins liners and a few other hand-made specialties.  They announced it was Mother's Day week and I have felt spoiled every day.  So I've been thinking all this week about what a great gig this Motherhood this and also how honored I feel to know so many fabulous Mothers.

As I'm sure I've said before, if I could take a snapshot of myself as a Mother with each of my three kids I could honestly say that I have definitely changed.  Some is just out of sheer necessity.  But most has come from making a hell of a lot of mistakes, watching other Moms, and (although sometimes I hate to admit it) doing what my Mom did.  I did not have a bad childhood by any standards, but there are definitely some things I wish had been different. Don't we all. I can remember thinking 'boy I really love how my Mom does that' and then on the contrary, 'when I have kids I'm never...'.  But when you have kids it's hard not to fall back on what you know, how you were raised.  I honestly think you aren't the Mother you really want to be until the second or third kid.  By then you can slow down and stop and think about what you are doing and saying.  You can add in your own style and beliefs and remove those things you always said you wouldn't do.  Maybe it's just part of getting older and coming into your own.  Who knows.  I just know I like the Mom I am now and a little part of me questions whether or not Gabby and I would be closer if I had started out this way.  Live and learn huh?

I had to laugh yesterday as I sat at one of these Mommy and Me events taking in all the busy Mommy's.  You could spot the newbies and the veterans.  Jess was sitting next to a little girl and when the song called for everyone to shake hands my sweet angel held out her hand and got snubbed by a girl with a nasty little face. And yes I felt like leaning over and telling her that she should watch out or her face may stay that way (yep that's a throw back to my Mom) :)  But I refrained.  Anyways...The Mom's just sat idly by missing a full on teachable moment. Reminded me of how many great things I have learned from Mom's about how I don't want to Mother.  


As I navigate through the day I am so grateful for all the people that have influenced and modeled for me behaviors.  Some good, some bad.  All those people have helped me define the person that I want to be and therefore the Mother that I want to be.  It's really a constantly changing role.  One that needs altering for each child, each situation. So I draw on the past and my childhood. I pull from people in my life. My Mom, who in my mind does it all, with style I might add, inspires me everyday.  My various girlfriends who balance work, volunteering, Motherhood, and leaping tall buildings in a single bound.  My husband who knows how to bring fun to any situation, a love of life that inspires everyone, and who has been known to throw on the Mom's hat and wear it just fine.  And to all those friends that are just so darn loving and wonderful that they make me want to be a better person and to pass that on to my children.  So even though I didn't eat my salami face to celebrate Mother's Day week, I definitely feel loved and I celebrate being a Mom and thank those that made me the Mom I am.

Spring is a time for bloomin

When I came to pick up Jess the other day from her daycare I was greeted/bombarded at the door by all the three year olds each chattering away telling a different story.  It was funny to see them all vying for attention and how I could listen to them and actually understand what they were saying.  I made a comment to their sitter that it definitely was obvious who was getting ready to turn three and start preschool.  It's like when you're mid way into springtime before you realize you haven't had to throw on a sweater in months.  Almost without awareness, your little people blossom right before your eyes. Sure it's happening a little everyday, but one day the whip of their wings trying to flap almost knocks you down.

I remember it clearly when it happened with Alex.  We were on a trip to Napa with my parents and Grandpa Bruce was getting ready to unplug the DVD player we had brought along.  Alex who was muttering, at best, those days walked right up to him and said 'Bruce what are you doing!'  We all stood there, mouths open wide, astonished that a complete sentence had actually left her mouth.  It was almost as if Alex had been waiting to walk until she could form a coherent thought.  Our little overachiever.  

Gabby always loved to talk. Heck still does.  I have the cutest picture of Rick leaning down close to her face and the two of them chatting away. She was all of two months.  She was a great babbler.  Even today I have to remind her to take a breath in between babbles.  

So all these wonderful memories flooded my mind as I watched my littlest one and her buddies talk, laugh, and actually understand what the other was saying. There is something so wonderful about kids finally being able to communicate.  But again, just another sign that we are moving into another stage.  Preschool is just around the corner. The constant "I can do it myself" comments will ring throughout the house.  We already want to pick out our own clothes.  Oh my.  Yes it's going to be an exciting summer.     

Seriously...you make the call

I've been making note of this strange phenomenon for the past year or so, but it took finally sitting down with a good straight shootin friend of mine this week to finally put the words on what is actually going on.  Stay home Mom's almost have too much time to think about stuff and therefore can't make a decision to save their lives.  Wow I know that's a harsh statement. I feel like I can say that though because I also stay home.  I feel like my decision making skills have definitely fallen to the wayside.  Now ask me if I think buying two boxes of cereal for the price of one is a good decision and I will jump all over that answer.  But ask me something that requires some thought and actual problem solving and whoa nelly you can almost hear those rusty wheels a cranking.

I have had a lot of fun working on different committees and groups at school this year, but almost everything that I have delegated out I have received a call about.  "Can we talk about this, so I can get more information?"  "Could you explain more what you are looking for?"  What I really want to tell these gals is that I'm looking for is someone just to do what I asked and not want to talk about it.  Make a decision.  Put down your latte and remember what it was like before the little people were calling all the shots.  I too feel like I get bossed around half the day.  Heck we have jokingly started calling the littlest one "The Boss".  And I say jokingly with a grimace.  We are running around picking up this, volunteering here, fluttering there and we have forgotten what it is like to just take care of business.  

I look at one of my best friends who is a full (to the fullest) time worker, Mom of two, Girl Scout leader, etc,etc.  You are getting an idea of her awesomeness.  You ask her about something and she just takes care of it.  She 
doesn't need a lot of clarification or hand holding. She is business.  I love that.

So does this affect all Mommy's that stay home?  If you stay home part of the time are you only partially rendered inept at quick thinking?  I don't know maybe if I worked full time I could answer these questions.  Hee hee.  Oh well I guess when you get down to it Mom's are usually quick at making decision when their kids are involved.  Truthfully that's the most important thing anyway, I guess I can cut them a little slack on the other stuff. 

Hearts of Gold

I leaned down to pick up the 100th piece of paper off the ground in one of my kids rooms, grumbling all the while, and it was in my hands to crumble up when I turned it over and realized it was a picture of a big heart and it had my name on it.  Then I walked out in the hall and I looked at our bedroom door and I saw a sign that Gabby had made that was a beautiful flower with two sides that I could turn one way to let people know I was sleeping and the other way when I woke up. As I walked down the hall to the kitchen passing all these little pieces of paper I noticed my grumbling voice started to subside just a little and a small smile started to take form.  Sure we kill half a rainforest a day, but my kids are spreading the love.  The first thing they think about doing for someone is drawing a picture or giving them a note.  Is that really so bad?  


With the first child I kept every single scrap of anything she laid a crayon on.  I believed everything to be a work of art. A true van Gogh.   Well, ok, that last part hasn't changed. But throw in a few more kids and I have just had to be more select.  It's tough though.  You have all the pictures they draw where there is their rendition of the entire family.  Or the picture of the heart and your name is in center. Come on now. What are you heartless?  How do you take that one to the recycle bin?  When they are driving you crazy, sometimes it's the simple glance to the magnetic board seeing that picture they poured their heart into with a smiley at the bottom, that pulls you from the edge.


Last night we were having a long evening.  Blame it on spring, first week back from spring break, who knows.  The two oldest were not being nice to the baby, the oldest one lied to her Dad, etc, etc.  Needless to say,  I was happy when I heard snores coming from all rooms.  A new day came and in amongst the hustle and bustle of the morning I saw a white heart taped to our glass doors in our room that simply said, "sorry Dad."  Gabby had either gotten up sometime in the night or early in the morning and tip toed in to place it so Rick would see it.  Yes, the lying is horrible but the core of that kid is pure gold.  


I guess all these little pieces of paper help remind me that even when they are acting up or not being nice to each other, these are three of the most loving kids I have run across.  So when I find these pieces of paper, sure I throw away some.  I have to, my house is only so big.  But I have to really stop and think about it because I know a little piece of them went into that creation.  A little piece of their heart.  Something I am so grateful for.

One Like Daddy

My girls are just now getting to the age where there is lots of emphasis on who they like and who they will marry, etc.  Trust me I am quick to chime in that college graduation, getting a nice job, then getting married would be my preferred order of events.  But it's actually pretty cute to listen to them talk about boys. Their criteria for if they like a boy is still based on whether they are funny or goofy.  However, if you think about it isn't that the way it should always be.  I keep telling the girls they really should be just looking for someone like their Dad.  But am I just setting them up to spend their adult life looking for the unattainable.  

The big girls and I were sitting waiting for their swim lessons to start the other day and for some reason Gabby wanted to make a list of all the things her Dad and I do.  I told her I needed a half sheet, but that she probably didn't have enough paper to cover her Dad's accomplishments and hobbies.  I mean fine, he's won teacher of the year twice and is a rock star coach, but that barely starts to peel away the onion if you will.  Brewer, photographer, surfer, surf board builder, woodworker, home builder, green gardener, graduate student, perpetual learner...Uh I've gotta stop and take a rest.  See what I mean?  We are talking about an interesting creature here.  This is not your average come home from work, sit on the sofa, drink a beer and grunt at the kids kind of Dad.  You ask him a question and he helps you research it (but he's so darn smart, he probably already knows the answer).  You have an idea for something you want to make, he grabs his tools. He's action Dad.  

I can almost hear my poor girls now, "I really think this guys is cute but...".  I know I couldn't have married someone that does nothing but sit around.  My Dad is a builder, a reader, surfer...hummm I'm seeing a pattern.  I guess I did look for a lot of the same traits.  My only concern is my girls trying to find someone with all the traits or skills their Dad has.  He just has so many.  When I stop to think about him I truly become in ah of him.  Someone at work called him a modern day savant and jokingly asked me if I ever feel like Jan Brady.  If I didn't love him so much I would be screaming "Marsha Marsha Marsha!".

So what advice will I give my poor girls when they get older?  Your Dad is an original?  They aren't all like him?  Or should I encourage them to search for someone just as interesting as him?  I guess some combination of the above.  I would like to believe that his being with me and my family has helped expose him to some of the things he is interested in today.  Who knows if that's true.  I just know my girls have a great role model.  And I pity the poor fella who comes home to dinner and gets asked the dreaded, "so tell me about yourself" by ole RR.

Not cut from the same cloth

So in amongst all the celebrating of my middlest angel I couldn't help but stop and think about how truly different all three of my girls really are.  I mean you raise them the same. Read them the same books. Teach them from your same novel of parenting.  But darn if those little buggers aren't so darn different and special.  

Case in point...I couldn't help but think about one of my favorite Alex stories the other day.  Alex had to be 5 and Gabby 6.  We had come home only to find that one of their fish had departed to the big fish bowl in the sky.  Rick wasn't home, so I gathered my thoughts and decided I would go with the shortened circle of life story.  I pulled them both up onto Gabby's bed close to me, told them about how this sort of think happened, the fish had a nice life with us, etc. Heck I was crying myself.  I look out at the audience and we have Gabby, eyes full of tears and sorrow.  Her face is expressing true mourning for the fish.  I half expected her to break into one of her spontaneously written songs, with musical accompaniment of course.  Then I look over at Alex.  Or should I say Dr. Alex.  Her eyes are dry.  At least she isn't smiling and she does let me finish before asking the only question that was on her mind, "when can we flush the other fish?".  Uh...yep mourning time over.

And then we have the more recent story of me getting breakfast ready and telling Rick about some new songs we had downloaded, but how first I wanted to share a video I had seen at the gym about quadriplegic soccer players.  So I'm telling all about this story that I found so interesting and inspiring and everyone is nodding and seems interested.  I'm almost done and then my little sweet Alex looks at me and says, "But what about Usher?".  She was referring to wanting to hear the new Usher song we had downloaded the night before that I had mentioned playing.  God love my sweetheart, she definitely knows how to stop a conversation.  Luckily she also has a great sense of humor since 'what about Usher' has become our new favorite joke when someone abruptly ends a conversation or just says something weird. 

Now so we don't think she has some sort of aspergers or social disorder, there are a million other examples I could think of when she has let that big heart of hers shine.  But even as an infant she has definitely made you earn that heart.  She isn't like Gabby or even Jess for that matter.  Her first inclination is not to run up and give you a hug, but I can tell you that over the years I think we have broken her down.   She is always the first one to give me a big hug in the morning now.


So I keep on reading from my same books and giving my same speeches on rights and wrongs, but when I do my tuck ins at night I'm still kissing my dramatic nature lover, my overly intelligent sensitive soul, and my energetic stubborn wild child.  But that's what makes this ride so fun.  They get along, but are oh so different.  Definitely never boring.

Mini Me Hits 7!

This week it's a fun one to write.  My middle baby is getting ready to turn seven on Sunday.  I can hardly believe seven years have passed.  This has truly been a fun year for her and as a Mom, a fun one to watch.  My parents and I both have made the comment, "boy this is Alex's year."  That truly does sum it up. Let me see if I can describe it adequately.

She started the school year as a first grader. So we were no longer the new kid on the block which automatically increased her confidence level.  Our school, in my mind, does it right. They combine the K/1 and 2/3 grades so the 1st and 3rd graders really get a chance to know their teachers and stand out as leaders in class.  Well that is exactly what Alex has done this year.  She is no longer waiting to be called on, she is asking questions, helping out without being asked, being a leader, a great friend, you name it.  And that's just what her teachers are saying.  I won't even go into how great she is going reading wise and just generally in school. I mean anyone that can pick up one of Rick's dry economics books and read a few chapters impresses the socks off of me.  Truly what she can read and retain is amazing for her age.  I would like to say it's all the time I spent working with her.  But I just think it's that big ole brain doing it's work.  Thank goodness she took after Rick, also an early reader and general brainiac.

My girl also kicked off the year by loosing a bunch of teeth. For little kids, this is one of the biggest thrills in life. They are just dying to get their name on the tooth chart at school and to have that tooth fairy pay a visit.  Heck Alex kept a tooth dangling by a string until she got to school.  Her teacher told me that Alex's hand popped up at almost exactly 8:10 one morning to announce her tooth was out.  She was saving that one.  So for most of the beginning of the year she has looked like our personal jack-o-lattern. Too darn cute.  She has loved that.

Anyone remember my shy little Alex?  I barely do.  She has definitely come out of that shell and stomped on the pieces.  I can still remember my Dad's concern over how shy she was.  Or when I would take her out in the stroller only to have her scream every time someone would dare smile at her because she was so darn cute.  Now she is outgoing, charming, LOUD, and just generally a great person to be around.  Can you tell I'm crazy about this kid. 

So I've told you about the wonderful things you see on a daily basis but what I hold true to my heart is what not everyone gets to see...like when she gets up really early in the morning before everyone else and comes to sit up on the counter to tell me a story about the day she forgot about.  Or when she can tell that I have had enough and she will clean up Jess' room better than I would myself just to put a smile on my face.  How about Gabby's first year in kinder which was absolutely nightmarishly crazy and Alex would run into the girls bathroom to grab me some toilet paper to wipes my eyes and then look up at me with those great big blues and say, "Mom you look like you could use a mocha from the favorite coffee shop."

I'm extra sensitive with my little Alex.  She is the dreaded middle child, the one that gets forgotten.  Well, not on my watch.  She is my little blue eyed sunshine.  I get such a smile on my face when I hear those little footsteps coming down the hall in the morning.  So for my angel I wish that this year be the beginning of how all her years will go.  I hope she will continue to blossom and find her voice.  To know how crazy proud we are of her and how much we love her. 

Happy birthday my sweet Alexandra Rose.

The Hand Off

As I spend more time hanging around Mom's, kids and the like, I have come to notice that parents love to give you their kids.  The days I am home I seriously spend more time responding to requests for play dates, weekend gatherings, and the like.  Moms are more than happy if you want to take their kids for 2-4 hours, heck keep them overnight and you have a friend for life.  Then I also have friends that take trips sans the kids, at least a few times a year. A trip without the kids makes me feel, the entire time, like I've walked out of the house without my pants on. Rick and I always have fun, but the missing is definitely strong.  I was trying to explain all this to my kids today as they wondered why they couldn't go on the hundredth play date they had been invited on.  Part of me just wanted to say 'heck kids I just really like you guys, I don't know what's wrong with those other parents'.  But yes, I refrained. 

Yesterday my girls had their friends, who happen to be sisters, over for a playdate.  I couldn't help but smile just listening to the conversation, the laughing, just the sound of girls being girls.  I have always wanted my house to be the one that the kids go to after school. The hang out spot.  Part of me feels that if I can create that environment now it will carry through to when they are older and when I'll want to feel even a little bit connected to whats going on in their lives.  It's funny sometimes how I'll ask the girls about their days and how I hear nothing of importance.  But, when I'm in the kitchen baking cookies and they think I'm not listening I hear all about the ins and outs of the day.  Sometimes just the act of us working on those cookies together, helps to drop the  guard down and out comes the sharing.  I love that.  So selfishly I'm not always looking to ship my kids off because I feel like I'm missing out on all that goodness.

I was talking with another Mom at Jess' gym class today and she was talking about her two kids and how exhausted she was and how she looked forward to when her little one got into school.  I laughed a little because I thought I guess I should feel that way, but I feel exactly the opposite.  I love when they come home from school.  I am dreading having Jess start preschool.  I will count down the hours until I can come pick her up.  Then the two of us will count down until we can pick up her sisters.  The walls of this house are meant to be filled with happy little voices. 

So do I lock my princesses up in my tower and keep all their joy just to myself?  No, of course not.  Part of growing up is going to peoples house, doing play dates, and spending time away from the watchful eye of Mom and Dad.  But will I go out of my way to find places to ship them off to?  No way.  Will I hope they choose our house as the place to hang out?  You bet.  Because a house without that sweet laughter is really just a house. 

Questioning the Role Model

I mentioned last week how great it was to work at a school since there are teachers and counselors always on the look out to offer up guidance.  Well that can sometimes play against you as well.  A little background...this summer when Jess turned two I decided that I needed to get a new best friend and lose my old best friend "the muffin top."  I ran, took exercises classes, watched what I ate and low and behold it came off.  I am basically the weight I was prior to having kids. My fighting weight if you will.  Well...since many folks at work have only either known me pregnant or in various stages of fighting to lose my muffin top, this came as a shock when I returned back over summer. The rumors started to fly about me being ill, suffering from a eating disorder, etc, etc.  Now I know the people here love me so I have taken such comments as loving comments. 

Last week though...I was cornered (easy to do in my little office) by a co-worker also expressing concern and she brought up something that has been weighing on my mind.  She mentioned that me being so small is really not setting a good example for my girls.  That they are looking for me to set the body image norm and by being thin I am basically giving them the message that this is the size they should be.  Now it's one thing to have concern for me.  Again, I can appreciate that.  But as soon as you start throwing around my parent and putting that into question, that becomes an area I'm fairly sensitive about.  I pride myself about going out of my way to tell my girls how important it is to love themselves and to not be obsessed with external beauty.  We talk about how beautiful differences are.  How people of all shapes and sizes, colors and races are all wonderful.  So when this woman said this to me, I really got bothered and obviously a week later I'm still bothered. 

I can still remember as a kid my Dad pointing out that I was getting a chest.  And my family was always the first to point out a hair style they didn't care for or if I could stand to lose a few.   I can still remember how sad I felt to have those things brought to my attention.  I remember those feelings and I would never want my girls to feel like that. I think because of that I have tried to make sure they feel great. I support the style they want, the hair they want, and have always reminded them how important it is to shine on the inside.   Plus couldn't I argue that by exercising and eating right I am actually setting a good example for them. Well at least better than the Mom cramming a Big Whopper in her mouth calling that a delicious dinner. 

So... did I say anything to this concerned colleague?  Did I look her in the face and tell her that I think I am going an OK job, thank you very much.  Did I stand up with my hands on my hips and say that despite my personal faults, I go out of my way to be the best darn parent I can and to make those girls feel that they are loved and fabulously wonderful little people?  Nope.  I listened to her express her concern.  I told her there was no issue and thanked her for her concern and thought to myself, 'you don't know me, but thank you for my next weeks blog topic'. 

Even the Fairies are in Question

So the morning starts like any other crazy Thursday...I am dropping the kids at school before I make the drive to work.  I usually drop Gabby and then take Alex to her classroom and then swing back by on my way out to give Gabby one more hug.  Unfortunately on my last pass Gabby not only comes in for a hug but decides to hit me up and ask me the tough questions. The ones every parent dreads.  "Do Leprechauns exists?  "And what about Santa"  "What about Fairies"  The questions were literally flying out of her like popcorn from a hot air machine.  I'm standing looking down at my big blued eight year old thinking 'wow I really don't want to be having this conversation right now'.  I realize that she is eight and in second grade and I'm on borrowed time as far as the whole believing thing goes.  But for me, when kids stop believing in fairies and magic the fun of it all just vanishes. 

I remember last year Gabby and Alex worked on making this elaborate Leprechaun trap.  Gabby had the trap leading from her room down the hall all the way into the living room.  The trap was well thought out and you could just see the excitement in their faces as they were putting it all together.  I loved it!  I jumped right on board and made a little green shirt and little pair of green pants and stuffed them into their trap.  I still remember Gabby squealing with delight when she thought that the Leprechaun had lost his clothes fighting to get out of her trap.  Priceless stuff.  And of course, what is one of the first things she asked me that fateful drop off morning?  "Momma you didn't make those little green clothes did you?"  Uh....Uh....crickets were heard chirping throughout San Jose. 

So luckily my ADD daughter is easily distracted and I made a speedy get away before I had to tell any outright lies or shatter any dream before my first cup of coffee.  But all the way to work I was so sad.  Sad that my little girl was growing up. Sad that some kids at school are so hell bent on making sure other kids don't believe.  Sad that the only way to keep the magic is to either come up with some fabulously elaborate story aka lie or come clean that I am the worlds best Leprechaun seamstress.  (Seriously they were a cute pair of pants)  Darn I was just sad.

This is just one of the reasons I am so grateful to work at a school.  Counselors/life coaches/mentors/parents galore.  I must have brought up this story to everyone.  The Mom's and even the Dad's gave me the gentle nod and understanding eyes and just heard me out.  Everyone can appreciate the approach of the impending lost innocence and the Mothers fight to keep it alive.  There is a Lifetime movie storyline in there someplace I'm sure.  Two people I really like had basically the same line they gave their kids and it was, 'if you don't believe then you might not get anything and nothing may happen.'  I kind of like that.  But to me it's more than that.  I really do want them to believe.  Not so much in the little green man or the fella climbing down your chimney, but in the magic of it all.  Heck I still believe in a little magic. 

So I came home and luckily Gabby had basically forgotten about it.  But I decided to bring it up and I brought up believing in magic and how sometimes people help make magic happen.  She said 'yah I think Ms. Thomas moves the gingerbread people around herself and that they don't actually run around at night.'  I told her that was a great example of someone getting really excited about a holiday and wanting to make it magical and fun for other people.  I think she got it.  Alex looked a little worried that the gingerbread people and their shenanigans were being questioned, but she'll survive. 

My good friend made a surprise visit from the Leprechaun just the other day and the girls were so excited.  There was no questioning, no doubt.  It's almost as it they decided it was ok to just have fun and believe.  That's really the joy of being a kid right?  At least that's the fun part of being a Mom and getting to watch your kids.  And the fun thing is getting to watch the holidays and events through their eyes, you get a little bit of that magic back that you lose over the years.  Helps you believe again. 

Young Rembrandt

Miss Jess and I are enrolled in a weekly art class at my favorite art studio in Campbell called The Art Beat.  I have enrolled each of the girls in classes here since I am a huge fan of art.  Jess loves to color and since I am a big believer in sister equality (trust me that will come up in a blog post) it was her turn to dawn her smock and get dirty.  Sharing the time with Jess while painting a tray, gluing wads of paper, whatever it is, happens to be the highlight of my week.  But I can tell from watching the other parents they aren't feeling the same bliss I am.

So heres the scene...Across from us always sits the older couple with their first child. The daughter, although cute, is too young for class.  The Mom quickly picks up whatever tool we are using and gets to work.  Even when the kid takes an interest and wants to paint, that Mom is quick to correct, re-direct, and basically hover, sapping all possible fun out of the creative process.   The father came last week and tried to gently mention to his wife that they should just let their daughter do her own thing and have fun, to which the wife gave him a 'shut your mouth' look and continued on with her painting.  It's hard, especially being a type A control freak parent, to let your kids pick up a paint brush and paint an entire ceramic clown black.  The line between helping and just pushing them out of the way and taking over can be so fine that you don't even realize you have crossed it.  So I do feel for these parents, but I must say it's painful to watch.  I want to scream 'hey if you won't let your kid paint a rock, will you let them try to tie their own shoes, drink out of a big girl cup?'.  Come on now. 

Next to them you have the Mom that is irritated just to be there.  I can't for the life of me figure out why she even signed up for the class.  She comes in perturbed, moves into crabby, hovers for a while at testy, and then finally settles in a general disdain for life itself.  Just a general rainbow in a bag.  As you can imagine, the kid picks up on all this and spends a good part of the class crying, sniveling and being generally unhappy.  Now I have felt all of those moods, however, this class is at 9:30 in the morning.  I'm usually not at that level of disgust until closer to the witching hour of 5:00 p.m.  So I'm not sure what the whole story there is, but it's a great example of how your kids can really pick up on your energy.  I have always said that my mood can make or break the day in our house.  It's not always the case for sure, but if I have slept poorly or I have a migraine and am feeling grumpy the kids are all over that negative energy.  If only I had a Yay pamphlet I could slip this gal. 

The last in the group is a nice woman who is expecting her second child any day now. She is tired but at least trying to enjoy her final days as a Mommy of one. She at least appears to be clued in to how special this time is and how soon her whole life is about to get a whole lot busier.  I can remember doing a class in which I had Alex in Baby Bjorn while trying to assist Gabby.  Talk about a balancing act, literally.  I still laugh sometimes thinking about how when I just had Gabby sometimes I would find that I wasn't able to get that much done in a day.  I was always wondering how these mothers of multiple children did it.  How could they do their families laundry and put a nice dinner on the table?  And what about those Moms that worked?  Funny now that I think about it.

So in essence, I guess you could say that at different points in my parenting life I have been all of these parents.  I am by no means a great parenting chief that is all knowing, but it's interesting to watch these parents are a different stage than I am at.  I'm sure if I hung out with parents that had kids in college they would be listening to my stories shaking their heads too.  Just more adventures in parenting that we all go through I guess. 

Too Old for Princesses

So I was feeling good, I just finished doing our taxes, we were getting a little mullah back which I had earmarked for our good ole credit card and then...dun dun dun...my sweetheart threw out the idea of going to Disneyland.  We are all off for the week and needed a family adventure.  I had some day trips in mind, and at one point had toyed with the idea of Disneyland, but I was hoping he had forgotten.  Fat chance.  Now, I love the magical kingdom as much as the next gal but old Walt and his fam are just milkin it.  That place now costs what would be the equivalent to buying a small village and we aren't even talking about actually staying anywhere near the park.  So my darlin got some resistance from the old ball and chain, aka the bean counter.  But then he had to go and play dirty.  He went and said that our oldest is on the verge of getting too old for princess stuff.  Too old for Disneyland.  He knows how to get me, that's for sure.

There was definitely some tossing and turning and weighing of pros and cons and well let's just say, we're going.  I couldn't help but think back to the first (and only) time we took the two older girls and how their eyes sparkled upon first walking into the park.  How they were so overwhelmed with the whole experience they weren't sure what to even make of it.  Now our oldest is looking on the internet planning which ride she wants to make sure to go on.  While the middle one is making sure everyone knows she doesn't want to go in the Haunted House again.  Obviously that one made an impression.  Then there is Jess all wide eyed and just excited watching her sisters talk about Disneyland and what they want to do and see.  This afternoon they got her all dressed up in a Cinderella costume and didn't even seem interested in dressing up themselves.  I guess it's true they are getting older. The middle one probably would dress up, but her older sister won't so forget about it. 

So yes I think there was a slight bit of pulling on the Mom strings to get me to agree to go, but I think Rick might have been right.  We are on borrowed time.  Soon they will want to go to Disneyland but not with us.  They will ask if they can bring a friend.  They will want us to bring them and then meet up with them later.  The "family vacation" will consist of Rick and I wondering what the kids are doing and watching the clock until its time to meet them.  So I will try to put the fact that I'm coughing up a small fortune out of my mind because spending these last princess years truly is priceless.

The Forgotten Art of Sleep

I can remember a time when it didn't matter how noisy, what was going on, if I was tired I was going to sleep.  I've never been a huge sleeper. I come from a long generational line of earlier risers.  But I do remember a time when I could sleep through anything. Heck I went to college at San Jose State.  Now though, one eye is open, one ear is always listening, and one foot is practically on the ground ready to leap out of bed and address whatever nighttime issue comes up.  Boy do I miss those good old sleep days.

When I tell people I used to be a good sleeper before kids I always bring up my favorite living in downtown San Jose story.  I was sharing a small two-story house with four other girls.  That is an entire blog in and of itself, trust me.  One night the cops came to our house and asked if anyone had heard a commotion outside.  I guess someone had been beaten up right outside our front door and nada one of us heard a thing.  Boy if that happened now, I would have heard that commotion, a fight down the way on 11th street, a car backing out of its driveway, etc, etc.

Now I assumed that all Mom's became light sleepers.  Yet another special Mom bonus, right up there with saggy boobs and worry lines on your face.  Interestingly enough in talking with other Mom's it's not a given for all Mom's.  Maybe it's only a special privilege for those of us born with the overly large worry vein pumping through them at all time. Who knows.  But it's definitely irritating. I would love to jump in and get a good nights sleep.  It's almost uncanny even to myself how I can just jump up at someones first stir and be right there having a conversation with them figuring out what's wrong.  Occasionally I have some groggy nights where my response time is a little slower, but normally I feel like I'm just resting at night waiting to get up and address an issue.  Sometimes when I can't sleep I try to figure out who will I hear from first. Will it be Alex having a nightmare? Will Jess misplace one of the 10 pacifiers in her crib and be sitting up screaming while she looks for the right one?  Will Gabby come in to tell us that she needs to go potty and get a drink of water?  The other night I thought about what great practice this would be for when they get older and they go out.  There will be no sneaking in after curfew with ole light as a feather watchin the clock. 

So sure I'm not getting my eight and my bag under my eyes are definitely packed, but will I sleep any better when they are away?  Well when the two older ones were at a sleep over not too long ago, I can tell you I actually slept worse.  I kept thinking I was hearing them or probably wanting to hear them.  I can only imagine when they are no longer living under this roof how I will long to hear their little voices in the middle of the night.  How I will long to have a little hand touch my face and want to know if its time to cuddle or not.  So in the big picture I'll have lots of time later for catching up on my sleep, but not a lot of time for my little people to be keeping me up.  Catch you later Mr. Sandman.

The scare

So last Wednesday I went to pick up the girls from school.  Let me step back a minute and say that Wednesday is early out for all the kindergartners through fourth graders so the scene is like the first day of summer break.  Whole lot of crazy kids running wild!  Jess and I wheeled up and got Alex who came skipping up rattling on a mile a minute about her day, stopped to 'Ms. Mary Mack Mack Mack' it with a friend, ran back to get her lunch and then we went on to get Gabby who resides in the next hall.  I was feeling a little anxious and already starting in on Alex about how we needed to tighten up the operation because it wasn't night to make Gabby wait, when we rounded the corner and where I would usually see my smiling Gabby she was not there.  I played it cool, I walk a little closer, looked up and down the hall/river of salmon.  No kid.  Heart starting to slow.  I found her teacher who quickly inquired with the other students still around.  "Nope we didn't see her at lunch."  Heart slowing to a near stop.   So...the teacher and I traipse down to the office and I get the principle pulled into my drama and they are just about to call her over the intercom when her sister sees her walking in the hallway outside. I have never wanted to shake/hug someone so hard in my life.  God love this child, she was helping a friend get something out of her hair, blah, blah, blah.  Needless to say, she got an ear load from her teacher and myself.

My kids know me, I hate hide and seek, we don't hide in stores, and although we live two blocks from school the question of when they can walk home by themselves hasn't come up because they know my answer.  I definitely border on being a helicopter parent I will admit, but I just love those little people so darn much that I make sure nothing is going to happen to them on my watch. So when I arrived and she wasn't there and her teacher wasn't sure where she was, her classmates hadn't seen her, and her sister was at a lose, to say I was getting a wee bit panicked would be the understatement of the century.

What was funny was the next day at work I was telling this story and every parent I mentioned it to had a similar story.  Everyone I ran into said the same thing, "Oh yeah I remember when..."  I was almost taken aback.  I almost felt like I had been through and passed the Mom initiation test.  If you can handle and live to tell about misplacing your child then you can handle anything.  What I didn't tell all of them was that I may have passed the initiation but I definitely feel scarred.  I may have somewhat kept my cool exterior in tact while looking around with her teacher trying to find her.  But when I finally set eyes on her I marched her out of the campus so fast because those tears were coming and there was no way to stop them.  I had know I was going to rip that campus apart trying to find what was mine and the let down of finally seeing her was too much. 

So you can keep your hide and seek games.  Just letting them out of my sight to go to school is proving to be all my little heart can take.

Is that the baby?

It's official Jess is enrolled in preschool.  Jess and I walked across the street the other day and turned in the first of many packets of forms we will turn in on her road to scholastic success.  I wanted to walk in the parking lot and Jess wanted to run, which actually seemed fairly symbolic of how I was feeling.  She proceeded to fall and part of me wanted to scoop her up and say, "See you're not ready yet. Come home with Mommy".  But truth be told she is ready.  I have watched her change so much within the last six months its mind boggling.  I was just telling Rick the other day how I was watching her in her little gym class sing to the songs, do the hand movements, and just generally blossom out of toddlerhood into preschoolness.  Hopefully no English teachers will ever read my blog or they will pull my degree back for my questionable made up words.  You get the idea...she's growing up.

I happened on this great article the other day about how raising four kids is easier than one, which I do actually agree with.  Albeit three in my case.  The end of the article gave a great analogy of kids being like balloons just floating up and passing by us and giving a quick bump as they go.  That really spoke to me.  My three girls are in such a rush to get big and move onward and upward and here I am with my feet planted on the ground trying to figure out how I can hold on to their strings just a little longer.

The next six months are going to be big ones for Jess.  Her vocabulary is getting bigger every week.  My latest favorite quote, "you're going to make me cry Momma"  just never stops being cute.  She jumping and getting air.  Plus spending all her waking time chasing her sisters and learning from them.  Which, as we know, can be good and bad.  Luckily I couldn't ask for better mentors (for the most part).

So once again, I find myself in that same spot of loving the every growing person my girl is turning into and wanting to scream at the world to slow down.  I'm holding onto that balloon string as tight as I can.  There's a little give, and each day I convince myself I should let it out a little more.  Just don't ask me to untie it from my wrist.  I'm not ready to watch it float up so high I can't see.  That goes for all three.

Super Sensitive

I was at work the other day and there happened to be this speaker that came to talk about distracted driving.  Now I didn't happen to make it to the presentation myself, but I was talking with a male co-worker, father of three, after the presentation and he was telling me all about it.  The speaker went on and told some great stories to our student about the dangers of driving while distracted, gave statistics, etc.  But then came the whammy.  Her son was killed in a car accident where the driver was being pressured to drive quickly, he wasn't wearing a seat belt, and his story came to a tragic end.  The teacher and I both agreed that the story was heart breaking, but what we most agreed on was the fact that when you become a parent something gets turned on inside you that makes you highly sensitive to hearing stories where there are kids involved. 

I've always had a great imagination.  Heck, I'm an only child who had more imaginary friends than I care to admit.  Of course I have a good imagination.  When I read a story, I start channeling Picasso and get busy painting that picture.  I also tend to be a little on the passionate side. When I read a story about injustice or the like I tend to get a little excited.  Can you tell I'm downplaying that a bit.  Yeah I get really excited.  This combination was problematic enough and led me to turn off the nightly news before going to bed.  Then eight years ago we threw in the cherry on top by becoming a Mother.  If you couldn't tell from my other posts, my family is my life.  So when I read a story in the paper or hear a story on the news about a child being hurt or killed, my heart hurts. But it's not just a sympathetic 'ah that's too bad kind of hurt'.  It's a pain that is indescribable.  It's the same pain you feel when you look at your child and know you can't make them feel better.  Or the pain you feel when they are crying out your name and even if you're choosing to ignore it, the ache is still there.  As my co-worker so perfectly stated, "something just happens the second you have a child, you just feel more." 

I'll be perfectly honest there are some days I would love to turn this "feel feature" off.  I love that my heart is bursting each time I set eyes on or even think about my three little people.  But balancing all that love with all the scary stuff going on in the world can just turn a persons heart inside out.  I think that heightened "feel feature" might just be one of those perks of being a parent that no one mentions because it's kind of not a perk.  It's just something that you take along with the job because the rest of the gig is so awesome. 

Right of Passage

My two oldest girls just had their first sleepover during the Christmas break.  I had held off on doing the sleep over because I said they were "too young".  But I finally gave in to peer pressure (aka Rick) and let them do it.  Truth be told I think I held off because I wasn't ready not because they weren't.  I wasn't ready to have them be out of my grasp and from under my watchful eye.  Control freak much?  Can't you hear the helicopter blades screeching above your head?  And wouldn't you know it, they had a great time.  It started me thinking about all the rights of passage that kids go through.  I remember having a sleep over at my house.  I remember my first TV crush.  I love you Ricky Schroeder!!!  I wish I still had that autographed picture.  Took six months for me to get, but man was I excited.  I remember begging my Mom to let me wear make up and her finally agreeing to every other day. Although somehow I just happened to convince her that 'nope I didn't wear it yesterday'.  And what about the ear piercing? That has already come up in our house.  So many things you go through as a kid.  A sleep over is really small potatoes. 

But this whole sleep over business just got me thinking...What's next?  My oldest is eight. Reasonably speaking we aren't really that far from potentially having our first crush on someone be it on the big screen (hopefully) or in real life.  We are only five years away from when I promised she could get her ears pierced.  Eek.  Here I am watching the little one finally learn how to jump with both feet while my oldest is sleeping over and having opinions about clothing and just basically ripping through life like a tornado. 

I have to admit the only exciting part to this whole lose of childhood has been to watch how my two girls have matured this past year.  I recently had a terrible migraine and I just wasn't able to rally.  Lex took the little one back and made sure she went potty and washed her hands, Gabby put her down for a nap and then started in on her homework, and then both of them were so quiet and let me sleep.  I was so incredibly grateful at that moment that I had two older girls to help out.   Sometimes I feel like I spend so much time missing them as babies that I forget to stop and be thankful for the wonderful little people that they have become. 

So I guess I need to get on the bus, strap on the belt and get ready for those rights of passage. I can try to postpone, prolong the inevitable, but they are coming.  They should bring me nothing but joy because they are a sign my wonderful girls are growing up.  I guess I should find a little humor.  It could be worse...their walls could be covered with Michael Jackson posters and they could be kissing their Ricky Schroeder autographed (did I mention that) picture before heading into bed.  We aren't there yet.  They still think their Dad hung the moon, at least for a little while longer. 

When is it too much?

I am among the fortunate ones to be a part-time stay home Mommy and part-time worker bee.  Each of my jobs I truly cherish and God love my husband for working so hard and allowing me the opportunity to have those two jobs.  But...I digress.  Since I'm home for part of the time I thought 'heck why not take on a few more roles this year'.  So I dawned my stylish volunteer cap and became a Girl Scout leader for my girls troop, a member of the School Site Council at school, helped out at the school walk-a-thon, volunteered to take the school recycling every Friday to the recycling drop off, baked at every possible school event, blah, blah, blah.  Basically if there was a job to be done, my name was on the list.  Honestly, people almost expected my name to be on a list. I would have people call me and make sure I was ok if they didn't see my name.  Now, don't get me wrong I love volunteering.  I get a personal high off helping people and it's a complete feel good for me.  But at the end of the year I ended exhausted and feeling a little sour.

I had scheduled a few too many events on one day in particular .  There was some running involved and maybe a brief rocking in the corner episode but I had managed to get everything in place for both events.  While I was running wild I kept in my mind that the girls would love it and the parents would love it and that would bring the joy for me.  Well the girls had fun and a few parents said it was nice, but the girls weren't appreciative and some didn't seem like they gave a rats.  I wasn't expecting fanfare, but a few thank you's or at least a 'this was fun' would have made all the difference.  I was even disappointed that some of the parents that I expected to help out didn't bother.  Kind of reminded me of when you spend that extra time making your kids that fun lunch and cutting their sandwiches in cute animal shapes and they don't even realize what you have done.  "HELLO those are ducks and frogs on your plates kids, not just a sandwich!  Wake up!!"

Anyways...I got over not having rose petals thrown at my feet, but it got me thinking about going overboard and doing too much.  Would the kids have been just as happy if I threw out a box of cookies and said 'here you go' as opposed to setting up a decorating station with homemade sugar cookies?  Could I just have worked an hour shift at the walk-a-thon instead of two full days in which I really  missed the entire event because I was trapped behind a table selling food not interacting with my kids?  Could I pick one event to give a baked good for instead of five? 

I guess with the new year this is the time to prioritize and really think about my time.  I think it might be time to draw some lines.  Does it mean I won't give when I can?  As my sweet Baby J would say "NO way!"  But I think I will definitely look at cutting back and making sure my giving isn't cutting into time I want to be spending doing other things.  Because truth be told, I'm home to spend time with my three little loves not prove I'm volunteer of the year.  Heck why stop at volunteer of the year.  I'm going for the big prize baby!  Watch out Mom's.  I'm going for the Mom of the Year.  Well at least in this house.