There are things I remember ...

It's amazing the things that I once thought I needed or wanted from life that seem to have fallen by the wayside since I had children. So many things were just "normal" back then, and now I occasionally wonder what happened. I wonder where the girl I knew went, and whether I should mourn her passing. It's not that all that stuff is necessarily "better", or really "needed" at all, just that ... well, I guess things just change.

I remember a time when my husband and I both worked, and although we probably didn't budget as carefully as we could have, we had the ability to go out to eat or go to a movie when we wanted to. I even managed to save a decent down-payment on our first home, although it wasn't as much as I would have preferred. Now, money is tighter because it has to go more directions, and there is only half as much coming in. Still, my husband was blessed with a new job this past year, which has made things easier, and I've learned to budget much more effectively ... the bills are always paid, and we still eat out sometimes, although our restaurant choices have narrowed drastically. We almost never make it to the movies anymore, but the stories are just as good when they get to the library's free DVD selection as they are on the big screen. Not missing out much there.

I remember the luxury of sleeping in ... ah, now THAT I miss, at least part of the time! Now I've got three little boys who want to be up and moving with the sun, and "sleeping in" for me is usually only about 7:30 am. Still, it's a hour and a half more than I normally get, so I can't really complain.

I remember how much I enjoyed my "quiet time" ... time to just sit and read or do research or crafts with little to no interruptions. Now, I have nearly constant "little" interruptions ... I have to tell myself that they are learning and growing, and if I want them to be the kinds of young men I hope them to be, they are going to have to do most of their learning from me. If I neglect those things, someone else will take up the slack, and I may not like the results. Sometimes, like most everyone, I'd rather "do my own thing", but then I try to remind myself that soon ... much too soon ... my little ones won't be coming to me with their questions and their problems, and I need to take advantage of the time I have with them. I also find myself mindful of the time that I did not ever get to have with the little one we lost, and it helps me pull myself out of the "interruption irritation".

I remember feeling attractive, all dressed up in high heels, with my hair and nails done and my makeup on ... these days I feel ordinary, in blue jeans and a t-shirt, with my hair pulled back out of the way of little hands and projects that need doing. I'm doing good to get makeup on my face once a week for church, my hair cut a couple times a year, and I can't even remember the last time I got my nails done. I haven't really worn high heels much since the year Chris and I married, because I broke my foot that winter, and they've never been that comfortable since. My husband and my children tell me I'm pretty, and I'm thankful they think so, but I don't think of myself in that gear any more. For the most part, I've got too many other things to think about.

There are so many things ... but it boils down to my chosen perspective. Because most of all I remember this: Once I was lonely ... now I am surrounded by love. Whether it's exactly what I expected it to be or not, I am living the life I wanted to live, and I am exceptionally blessed.

A New Year for Mommy

I don't really believe in "New Year's Resolutions" all that much. I think people have good intentions as they start out the new year, but somehow the "resolution" tag just allows all those good intentions to fall between the cracks of every day life, because after all, resolutions were made to be broken anyway.

That being said, I think that setting goals for yourself in the New Year is a great idea. It gives you a challenge for yourself ... room to grow and be more of the person that you could be. I have financial goals for for myself and the family for the year, and that sort of thing. But the goals that I want to work on the hardest are the personal ones. And when I stop to think about it, so many of them revolve around me and my children. I suppose, since I'm a Mommy, that's only natural. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that in many ways, my goal is to become more LIKE my children this year. Yes, I have to be the Mommy, and the "responsible-grown-up-person" in the equation, but sometimes I think that part of growing as a person is learning that you can re-visit the child you once were without fear or embarrassment.

This then is a list of some of my goals for the New Year ... the things that I have picked up on with my children. There are so many more things I could list, but this is a good place to start:

I want to wake up each morning with a smile on my face.
I want to give generously of my hugs and kisses.
I want to dance when I like the music.
I want to sing when I feel like it, even if the words don't make sense.
I want to stop and investigate when I'm curious.
I want to be glad when I can help.
I want to feel deeply, and forgive quickly.
I want to jump up and down when I'm excited.
I want to always be glad that it's "church day".
I want to laugh loudly at jokes, even if (or especially if) they're goofy.
I want my sibling to be one of my best friends.
I want to take joy in simple things.

May you all have a "childish" New Year!

Growing a Parent: Respond vs. React

I'll never be a parenting expert. Truth be told, I don't think anyone ever will be. I'd like to think that I learn and grow as a parent, though, the same as I'd like to think that I can learn and grow as a person, a Christian, and in any number of other ways. My kids teach me new things every day, and some things I just eventually realize on my own, and wonder why on earth I didn't think of it before. One of the things that I've worked really hard on, especially in the last few years, is looking at how I respond to situations with my kids.

Let's face it ... raising kids can be a wonderful experience. It can also be a frightening, maddening, stressful, where-did-I-put-that-straight-jacket experience. The news today has so many stories of children being mistreated and abused, and I find myself wondering how parents could possibly treat a child that way. I would never dream of intentionally harming my children. My guess is that many parents around the world feel exactly the same way. I've begun to think, though, that in many cases it has to do with a parent who hasn't learned the difference between responding to a situation and reacting to a situation.

Think about the last time you watched a group of kids play together. One child takes a toy, or does something else that another child doesn't like, and what happens? The second child will cry, or scream, or find a way to lash out in an attempt to say "I don't like this at all!" We look at children doing this and think, "There's a better way to deal with this.", but then we don't even notice when we do similar things.

Case in point ... as we were leaving an evening church service recently, we told the kids to go get in the truck (my husband still objects to calling a minivan a truck, but that's another story). My five-year old blasted off across the parking lot in the direction of our vehicle, not noticing that there was a car parked next to us whose driver was preparing to back out. Startled at the danger, we called out for him to stop, and managed to get him out of the way of the vehicle. (Thankfully, they had seen him and hadn't moved anywhere.) My son now safe, this is where I try to make it a point to respond, instead of react, to the situation. My inclination (the reaction part of me), would be to tan his hide and yell at him for putting himself in danger. The reason? Well, yes, it could have been dangerous, but a large part of it would have been because he scared the daylights out of me. On the other hand, the "respond" part of me part of me might give him ONE swat and a serious scolding about being more careful and explaining what almost happened. What's the reasoning? Well, to begin with, he's five. I don't want him putting himself in danger at all, but I have to understand that five is never going to be as observant as adult. It's my job to watch out for things for him, until he learns to watch out for them himself. Besides all that, he was attempting to be obedient, by going to the truck in the first place. If I start spanking him for no apparent (to him) reason, what does that teach him?

I think it's a lesson some parents have a hard time learning. They have a child that doesn't do exactly what they want them to, or an unexpected situation comes up, and they REACT to the situation instead of responding to it. It's an easy mistake for all of us to make, but for us and for our children it's so important that as adults we learn the difference. It's a part of being the kind of parents our children need us to be.

What they don't know can't hurt them ... at least most of the time.

Occasionally, I just feel the need to purge stuff from the house. Things get to feeling cluttered and unlivable, and so it's time to clear some of it out. More often than not, this has a lot to do with the kid's toys. With birthdays, Christmas, generous friends and doting grandparents, sometimes it seems like the kids have more toys than they know what to do with. I've known kids (fortunately not mine) who actually had so many toys that they had a separate room just to catch all the stuff that overflowed from their rooms. In our house, though, when the boys get to digging through a huge toy box full of things and start complaining about how they can't find what they're looking for, Mommy usually decides it's time to clear out the clutter.

Most of the time, it happens when the older two boys are at school. It isn't necessary, perhaps, but the truth is it makes my life a little easier. I can drag everything out in the floor and make an honest assessment of what they usually play with, without having to hear "Oh, WOW! I forgot we had that!" and having three pairs of hands in the middle of things. I usually don't eliminate large numbers of toys at a time, but I weed out things that they are outgrowing or don't play with, and pitch stuff that is obviously broken beyond repair. Sometimes, just the act of putting things where they BELONG, like the Hot Wheels-type cars in their storage boxes instead of in the toy box, can work wonders. After this morning's clearing, we no longer have toy box that is full almost to bursting, but one that's only about 2/3 full. It makes me feel much better.

Of course, when the kids get home, one of two things will happen. The first possibility is they will not even notice that I've cleaned the toy box out, and go on happily about their business. This is always the nicer of the two options, for obvious reasons. The other possibility is that they'll come home, dig through the toy box, and holler "Hey Mom! Where's _____? I can't find it!" I'll probably have the urge to shake my head or roll my eyes, wondering why they suddenly felt the need to find a toy they haven't played with in 6 months, and then I'll have to tell them that I cleaned out the toy box and took out some stuff they weren't playing with.

Fortunately, most of the time when that happens, they pretty much take it in stride, especially when they're reminded that it's not all that long until Christmas, or birthday, or whatever rolls around again. I try to teach my kids to be thankful for the things they have, and willing to part with things they don't need so that other folks can enjoy them. So I pack up all the outgrown/unused stuff in storage boxes and put it out in the garage for our annual yard sale. The kids will come out and look at things and say, "Hey, I remember that!", play with it for a minute or two, and then put it back down for the sale. And I'll be thankful, because I know they're growing up.

Perspectives

I've mentioned before how having my boys has sometimes made me stop and change my perspectives on things. I don't know if I can really even put my finger on what it is, but sometimes when you're having a bad day or just need a smile, taking a look at things through the eyes of your child can help a lot. I've had many times when I felt like I was on the verge of a breakdown, only to have one or another of the boys say something silly, and suddenly I was smiling and relaxed again. I think it's amazing how kids can do that for you, if you let them.

What I didn't know, though, is that sometimes they can provide that perspective without ever even knowing it. I pondered this a few days ago, as my husband and I celebrated our anniversary. I feel that I have been incredibly blessed in my mate, and I am ever so thankful to have him. I love being able to share a day with him (typically while the kiddos go to Grandma's), and do whatever occurs to us, whether it's going to a movie, or eating somewhere besides McDonald's, or whatever. It reminds us both of the special time that we got to spend together before the house and the children came along, and gives us a chance to recharge our batteries and reinforce our love for each other.

For a number of years, it's also been a faintly bittersweet day for us. Many of the folks that know us probably wouldn't even be aware of it. But back before our oldest child was born we lost a baby ... and we lost it on our 3rd anniversary. There's still a bit of an ache there, especially for me, because being a Mommy is such a big part of my life. I miss the little one that I never got to hold, and regret that, because it was too tiny for us to know gender, I never even got to give it a name. At the time, I felt as though my joy had died, and I didn't know how or if I'd get it back. It was a really difficult time, and although it is some easier now, it still touches me each year on our anniversary, or Mother's Day, or whatever else happens to remind me.

But I suppose that's where the perspective part comes in, and that is a large part of what has helped my heart try to heal. You see, if that child had lived, my husband and I would not have been blessed with the child I call my oldest son now. I would have known that child, but not have known the boy that I now call by my beloved Grandfather's name. The boy who is tender and loving, the boy I sometimes call "my C3PO", because with him everything seems to trigger melodramatics of one sort or another. I wouldn't have gotten to take pride in his abilities and roll my eyes at his antics, to laugh out loud at his "upper and lower case ambulances" and every other unique thing he has come up with in his almost 8 years. I would have had one child, and missed out on another that I love dearly.

Sometimes, your heart learns perspective from your children not because of what they say or do, but just because they are.

Back to school

Well, it's here ... the kid's first day back at school this fall. I have to admit that with it only being the middle of August, it doesn't really SEEM like fall, but that's another story.

I have two children in school this year. How is that possible? Seems like I'm still getting used to Glenn being in school, and now Matthew's going to Kindergarten. On Saturday, Ryan will turn three. It's almost beyond comprehension. What happened to those tiny babies I brought home from the hospital?

The kids were really excited about going to school today. They've been practically bouncing off the walls the last few days, but then I have to admit that they've been practically bouncing off the walls nearly all summer. I'm glad they're back to school, as well. I like for them to be able to learn new things, and interact with friends and other adults. I like to see their abilities grow and see them get excited about all the new pieces of information they come home with. And, in what seems like a most "un-Mommy-like" fashion, I'm glad to get them out of the house for a little while.

I have a friend who has decided to home-school her Kindergarten aged daughter this year. I admire her determination, but know that there's no way I could do it. Don't get me wrong ... I love my children very much. I like to be with them and to do things with them. There are times, though, especially over their summer vacation, when I begin to feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water in an ocean of mayhem and insanity. I used to look forward to nap-time, but now two of the three are too old for naps (at least every day!), so I'm grateful for school time, which lets us all get a little breathing room from each other. It's amazing how much more relaxed my morning has been this morning, and I'm determined to make the most of the quiet time with the little one and even though I know it will feel like a pair of tornadoes has touched down when my older boys get off the school bus, I feel more prepared for it.

It's a strange thing ... I'm glad they're there, but I miss them because they aren't here. A day in the life of a Mommy.

Grown-Up Age Is Just A Number

Age is all-important to a child, probably because their life is proportionally shorter than the rest of us. To a five-year old, a year is FOREVER, primarily because it makes up 20% of his entire lifetime. By contrast, it seems much shorter at 40, because it represents something closer to 2.5% of a lifetime. So, it's been my experience (both personally and with my children) that kids look toward milestones as something of a happening. "I turned 5 today, so I should start Kindergarten tomorrow." "When I'm sixteen, I'll be able to drive a car.", and so on. I remember being in grade school and thinking that 1988 was practically unimaginable, since that was the year we were supposed to graduate. Now I know people (not even including my own kids) who weren't even BORN in 1988.

The thing I've noticed about kids, though, is that grown-up age is somehow different than kid age. I wonder sometimes if it's kind of similar to the people years vs. dog years comparison. To a child, especially a young child, most all grown ups are old in one way or another. But the "number" of our age doesn't compute in their heads. I've told my kids in the past (when they've asked) how old I am. And I had to laugh when my preschooler came home with a piece of paper this last week as part of his Mother's Day gifts. It was a fill in the blank form that was about me, and filled in by him. The first statement was "My Mom is ____ years old." He said I was 15. While that seemed like quite an entertaining compliment, he has no concept of the fact that with him being 5 and his brother going on 8, I must have started having a family REALLY early!

It made me think of a time when I was probably in the 12-14 age range. My grandparents had come over to the house to visit, and were sitting at the dining room table talking with my Mom and Dad. I was in the living room watching television. It was the time frame of all the "Where's the Beef?" commercials, and a commercial came on that I found really entertaining. I went in to tell the family about how silly it was, and mentioned that there was "a REALLY old lady ... she must have been 60 or 70 years old" starring in the commercial. My grandmother feigned (I think) being hurt, I suppose because I thought grandmother-ish age was "old". I don't think she probably knows what an impact that made on me from that time on. After that, I never talked about someone in that age range being old. If someone was old, they had to be at least 400 years old, because that way I didn't hurt anyone's feelings.

I suppose that's why I had to chuckle as I talked to my boys today about what I'd probably be like when I got old. I made a passing comments I made that turned into quite the conversation with my two oldest. Glenn asked if I'd be old when Ryan got married, and then decided I'd be old when I was 84, because his first grade teacher always tags "and many more, until you're 84" onto the end of the Happy Birthday song. Matthew, the sweet child who said I was 15, said "Mommy, you'll never be old!" Bless his heart ... love like that can't help but keep you young, no matter how old you are.