tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-305181212024-03-19T05:45:47.360-07:00life according to the prpPRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.comBlogger748125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-27889311490301906062014-04-24T11:27:00.001-07:002014-04-24T11:27:08.917-07:00It's Not About The Milk, But It Also Kind Of IsRemember when I said that I was going to make this little space a piority? When I mentioned how much I missed writing and recording the stories of our family? When I vowed to carve out some time and share the things that are important to me and the things that aren't but that I want to remember anyway? When I swore to post pictures of the big things and the small things? Like Austin's first lost tooth or when my kids got on an airplane for the very first time?<br />
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I rememmber it too. <br />
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But as with everything else right now, my life is in the way of my life. I can't keep up. I can't proiritize. I can't even remmeber to buy milk. Somehow, in this quest to enrich our kids lives and give them opportunities to grow, we have worked ourselves into a pace that isn't sustainable. At least, not sustainable if you want milk in the fridge. <br />
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Here's what I know: I'm a horrible working mother. I'm a pretty decent stay-at-home mom but a working mom? I fail at least ten times a day. And so my hat is off to working moms everywhere (although truthfully, it always has been) because this stuff is <em>hard</em>. This remembering everything and organizing everything and keeping schedules straight and appointments made and who needs what and by when. Ugh, it's exhausting. And try as I might, I just can't seem to manage any of it. My fuse is shorter, my ehaustion is more palpable and my desire to keep it all going is nil. The stress of it all has worked it's way into my bones and muscles and I physically ache from the weight of our life. <br />
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Here's what else I know: this is not how we were intended to live our lives. Somewhere along the path of creating children who have honed skills and had life experience, we've booked ourselves into a literal corner with no easy way out. What do we cut out? Who gives up the thing they like to do? Which skill can wait to be worked on until later? <br />
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I have no idea. <br />
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Insomnia is another fun perk of this time in my life and as I layed awake last night, I tried to conjure up a plan of change. Spring is always our busiest season and I tried to carve out a way for us to negogiate it that will leave us filling renewed instead of empty. <br />
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I can give up coaching. I love Girls On The Run and I think it's a program that every girl, every child for that matter should go through. I love the extra time I get with my daughters and how I know the program so well that we've incorporated bits and pieces into our regular life. And it's been great this year to have the time with BOTH of my daughters. But it requires me being someplace at a certain time. It makes dinner look like cereal a whole lot more than anything else. It requires me to give of myself to girls who need it with love and an extra dose of cheer and enthusiasm. I love it. But it might be time to move on. <br />
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Brad could give up coaching. He loves it and with Spence being on his team next year, I'm sure he'll love it even more. But is it worth the things that he's missing? The long hours and the tournaments and the Saturdays away? Maybe. But maybe not. <br />
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I don't know what we'll do. I don't know if I've just felt the pace more acutely this year than in years past. I don't know if next year will feel differently but I know that I want to get back to being the mom I've always tried to be. The mom who has time to talk to her kids. The mom who makes meals that actually offer nutritional value. The mom that isn't frazzled. The mom who notices when we're out of milk. <br />
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-137971054314456072014-01-29T09:54:00.003-08:002014-01-29T09:54:56.670-08:00Perspective, Take 2 The last few weeks have sort of kicked my trash. <br />
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At least, <i>that's how I chose to see it. </i><br />
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I got sick shortly after Christmas and remained sick for pretty much all of January. They say stress adds to your bodies inability to fight things. Hmmmm.....<br />
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My phone died. I know, the most basic of first world problems EVA but it was hard. (Still is hard. New phone isn't here yet. Grrrrrrr...) And while I'm thankful for the very real example that my little phone was taking up entirely too much time in my life, I miss the convenience of email at my fingertips, my calendar that keeps our house somewhat running, and apps that help me reach my goals.<br />
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Speaking of goals, I've been more than frustrated by one that I just can't seem to reach despite my best efforts. I work and sweat and toil and choose and in the end, nothing changes. This has gotten my down more than I care to admit but there's a lesson here as well. I need to stop focusing on what's missing and be grateful for what I have. I succeed in this in a lot of areas of my life but this one in particular is my krptonite. I get it. I'm working on it. <br />
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Today, despite little sleep and an aching body, I got up, looked at my unwashed face and crazy hair in the mirror and laughed. Because if I can't smile at this amazing life I've been given, with all the crazy mixed in, then what's the point? <br />
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Smile today friends. Find something to make you laugh. It's going to be a good day. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(<i>My sweet husband posted this on my Facebook wall a few days ago. I love him so.) </i></span></div>
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-75195519878299874842014-01-06T12:57:00.000-08:002014-01-06T12:58:44.665-08:00The Day I Was That Mom <div style="text-align: justify;">
For Sienna's 8th birthday, she got her ears pierced. </div>
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This was in last July, and she was a model new-ears-pierced patient. Unfortunately, her right ear was pierced too low and while we watched it closely, the lower part of her lobe split open and the hole fell out. Like, the hole slid down her ear until it was at the bottom and the front and back of the whole came together. </div>
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That doesn't make any sense but bottom line, we had to wait for her ear to heal so it could be re-pierced. </div>
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Fast forward to Saturday. Brad and Spence had been gone skiing for a few days and I had not been feeling my best. I tweaked my back Friday during yoga and my cold came back with a vengeance so when Sienna mentioned going and getting her ear re-done, I thought yes! This will turn our weekend around! We'll head to the mall, get her ear pierced, maybe shop around a bit, get some lunch and my status of FUN MOM instead of GO WATCH ANOTHER MOVIE MOM will once again be restored. </div>
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It was quite the feat to coax me out of my sweats but soon we were on our way. Sienna was excited and I was ready to put this whole ear drama behind us and move on. Except that when we got to the ear piercing place, our ear drama turned into Sienna drama and she threw the mother of all fits. Like, scared to death yelling and moaning and freaked out fits. I stayed calm for much longer than usual and explained to her that we could leave and go home but that we wouldn't be coming back anytime soon to get her ear pierced. She struggled fo-eva over her desire to have it done and her fear of getting it done. I filled out the paperwork and got everything set while she worked through it. </div>
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Except that she didn't work through it and got herself so worked up that I quickly became the mom that everyone in the mall is staring at because she can't control her kid. And my kid isn't a toddler in need of nap time but a real, legit <i>kid</i> kid. I did my best to stay calm and reassuring while my other kids tried to look like they belonged with another family. </div>
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I'd like to say that I found the right words to calm Sienna and that she sweetly held my hand while her ear was re-pierced but that would be a fat freaking lie. </div>
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It didn't go down like that AT ALL. </div>
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But the ear got pierced. HALLE-FREAKING-LUIAH. </div>
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And then I marched us out of there faster than you'd think possible with three kids in tow. Sienna whimpered her way back to the car and I, uncharacteristically, started to cry. </div>
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And here's why; it wasn't the drama over Sienna and her actions. It wasn't the other people staring at me, silently confirming my fears that I'm not the mom I think I am. It wasn't even my own personal embarrassment. </div>
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It was that I built it up in my head how it was supposed to go and it simply didn't. My expectations set me up to fail. </div>
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Without even meaning to, I built up our little outing as some type of restorative fun from a rather lackluster weekend. I'd be the hero for getting her ear pierced! And then we'd have lunch! And my daughters would confide in me the treasures of their hearts! And we would look like those people who have it all together instead of the ones wandering the mall with ketchup on their shirt! It would be glorious. </div>
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And it could have been, but I screwed it up even more than Sienna. </div>
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I dropped Hannah off at a friend's house, having told Sienna in my last hail Mary attempt, that her playdate would be canceled if she didn't hold still and get her ear pierced and since one of my goals this year is no empty threats, I followed through. When I got back to the car, Sienna whispered quietly "I'm so sorry I did that to you Mama. I didn't mean to but I was just so scared." </div>
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And that's when I felt about two inches tall. </div>
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Expectations are a funny thing. They can be a great thing, I think, a lot of the time, having something to shoot for. But we can get lost in them when what <i>we want to happen</i> looks different than what<i> actually happens</i>. And how it looks from the outside means nothing compared to how my Squish felt on the inside. We have to start finding a way to appreciate the off-course and messed up versions of whatever it is we're doing since that is the stuff of memory-making, and are so much more important than anything else. Who wants polished and perfect when it's empty inside? </div>
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I pulled Sienna onto my lap as soon as we got home and told her how sorry I was. She apologized to me and we talked about trusting each other and doing hard things. Our afternoon together wasn't pretty but it turned out pretty awesome. </div>
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-5282237206809494832014-01-02T16:50:00.000-08:002014-01-02T16:52:07.145-08:00Shine On <div style="text-align: justify;">
Internet, can we talk for a moment? </div>
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I've got so much rumbling around my brain that I'm not even sure where to start. </div>
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Things like how our Christmas rocked, as it tends to do, but how it also dripped with the stuff of real life. Stuff like figuring out blended families and strep throat and she-won't-help-me! and did that kid get short-changed in the gift department? Stuff that reminds me that my life is not full of the shiny images I see on the internet of what I perceive as the "perfect" this or that. </div>
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That table setting is perfect!</div>
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That's a brilliant idea for our families Elf!</div>
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I wish I had chosen their color scheme for our Christmas cards!</div>
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Stuff that doesn't matter and yet sometimes feels like it really does. </div>
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My life is full of images, some shiny, some dark, some blurred with exhaustion or fighting kids or most frequently, my feelings of the day, allowing the good or bad to sink into the picture. Because when I look around, I can see the beauty or I can see the ugly. And more than ever, I'm trying to see the beauty. The beauty in the mess of my kitchen because it means my kids were learning to bake. Or the beauty in the mess of the toy room because it means imagination were at work. It's working, I think, but I've got a ways to go. </div>
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Christmas makes it easier. At Christmastime, I think everyone works a little harder to be their best and see the beauty. To put on their <i>shiny</i> in the morning and step out into the world, spreading their shine to those who need it. </div>
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We're kinder.</div>
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We say more hellos and thank yous. </div>
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We open doors. Pay for the hot chocolate in the car behind us. Leave notes for mailman. We make more of an effort in just about every possible way. </div>
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And I love it. </div>
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But why? </div>
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Why does it take Christmas to make us into the people we're supposed to be? </div>
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I asked Hannah what her favorite part of Christmas was and her reply? "I love how everyone is nicer to each other and takes care of each other."</div>
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INTERNET! </div>
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My 11-year old gets it!</div>
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But do I? </div>
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She reminded me of how there is a noticeable change in the way we treat each other from November to December. And she's 100% spot on. It feels like there are more opportunities to serve in those four weeks than in the rest of the year. More people in need. More charities to support. My love to share with our neighbors. But those people and charities and neighbors are still there, all year long, just waiting for the rest of us to wake up and get back to the business of looking outside ourselves and finding news ways to shine. Ways to share ourselves and help make each other better. Ways to carry Christmas all year long and feel of that feeling that so far, only comes once a year. </div>
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This is the stuff that keeps me up at night. </div>
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I don't have the answer. I don't even know where to find the answer. But I know that it can somehow start with me and my people. I know that we can start making changes in our home that will begin to trickle out into our neighborhood. And then maybe our community. I know that big change happens when we start small and I feel committed to going to battle and getting to work. Because the love we feel during the Christmas season is ours for the taking if we remember why we're here and start taking care of one another. </div>
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I love it when my kids teach me stuff. It happens a million times a day
in a million different ways. I'm so lucky to have four master teachers
under my feet. I'm hoping this year will be about us serving one
another and loving one another and finding in every image we see, a new
way to <i>shine</i>. </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(<i>Our shiniest image from last year) </i></span></div>
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-18028974353337062912013-12-13T09:22:00.002-08:002013-12-13T14:40:35.244-08:00Starting Again, Again <div style="text-align: justify;">
I just stumbled across a friend's blog and discovered that she's been writing for months and I was somehow missing it. And I loved diving in and reading about her life, even though I pretty much know all of the stories. And it made me want to revisit this place, this space I set up long ago to tell the stories of my life. To record the ins and outs of the 6 of us. To have a spot to write it all down and remember the good and work through the bad. This life we're living is so very worth my time and the stories that stumble out of our day to day are good and worth remembering. I know I've said this before but here goes another shot at recording this life I'm loving so much. </div>
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We're good, the six of us. Spence has strep and Austin has been licking his chapped little lips and sort of looks like he's been playing in grandma's red lipstick, the stains extending his sweet little mouth in all directions. Hannah is tackling a book that's been challenging for her to read (in Spanish no less) but has finally fallen in love with the characters and now can't get enough. Sienna is loving her new haircut and has recently made a point to snuggle up to her Mama and Dad a little more frequently. Brad is knee deep in a new biology curriculum which has given him something new to do for the first time in 14 years. And I'm juggling the pieces thrown in the air by those five amazing creatures I call family. I'm working more than I have in years past which has proved to be both awesome and exhausting. I've reluctantly hung up my bike for the winter and have thrown myself into yoga which I'm completely in love with. I now dream of yoga training camps in Bali for weeks on end which would be the most amazing thing except that I could never leave my people for weeks on end. My people who drive me crazy with their dropped coats in the hallway and dishes around the house. But also my people who are so tender with each other that it physically overwhelms me and fills me up with the brightest possible light. If I learn nothing else from this life, I will know unequivocally that we are given to each other on purpose, that no mistakes are made in the crafting of our families and that life, with all it's crazy and exhaustion and pure bliss, is really only life when it's shared with those you love. </div>
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Here's to hoping this space and I see a lot more of each other. </div>
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-91683349335581538892013-11-07T10:57:00.001-08:002013-11-07T10:57:43.546-08:0011Dear Hannah,<br />
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My darling girl with the big, round eyes that look so much like mine and those amazing dimples that look just like your dad, you are perfectly, beautifully you. And today you celebrate the joy of being 11. <br />
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11 years of crinkling up your nose when you laugh, which you do easily and often. <br />
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11 years of taking everything to heart, allowing both the good and the bad of the world to influence you deeply. <br />
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11 years of learning to be a wonderful big sister to Sienna and Austin but also knowing that following the lead Spencer has set for you is always a great idea. <br />
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11 years of loving all things girly, with nail polish and earrings and boots galore. You are certainly your mother's daughter.<br />
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11 years of planning parties and celebrations and get togethers, knowing that life is more fun when you share it with family and friends. You are certainly your father's daughter. <br />
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But most importantly, 11 years of learning that you are a daughter of Heavenly Father and that he loves you exactly as you are. <br />
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Because exactly as you are is exactly what this world needs. What our family needs. We may butt heads, we may not see eye to eye, but we also know without a doubt that we were made for each other. <br />
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I love you so much sweet Hannah. <br />
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Happy Birthday.<br />
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Love, <br />
Mama <div class="blogger-post-footer"><div style="text-align:center"><A HREF="http://www.wordofblog.net/redirect.php?id=2782"><IMG SRC="http://www.wordofblog.net/ad_images/278217.jpg" BORDER="0"></A><BR> <FONT SIZE=1><A HREF="http://www.wordofblog.net/info.php?id=2782">Want this badge?</A></FONT></div>
</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-32308919939766622392013-10-01T10:05:00.000-07:002013-10-01T10:05:11.630-07:00Mothering <div style="text-align: justify;">
Life has been a bit rolly polly these past few weeks.</div>
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All six of us are slowly adjusting to our new spots in life. </div>
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A new high school for Brad. His first change in 14 years.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
8th grade life for Spence. A zero hour class. ASB and leadership. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
5th grade for Hannah. Top of the school, trynig new things, including soccer.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
3rd grade for my Sienna girl. Right in between Hannah and Austin, settling into life and finding her place.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The big school for Austin. A kindergartner. Loving the life that comes with being a "big kid" but struggling a bit to keep up the pace and not give in to the rest his "little kid" body still requires. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And me. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm a stay at home mom with no one to mother.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's funny, how life has a way of making you yearn for things just out of your reach. With newborns, you find yourself wishing ahead to the sleep-through-the-night stage. And then there's the desire for potty training. Dressing themselves. Filling their own cups of milk. And then there's the first taste of freedom that preschool offers. Where you find yourself, for the first time in years perhaps, with a few hours to clean uninterrupted or maybe even sit and read something without illustrations. And then before you know it, you have more time alone than you do with those beautiful souls that you send out into the world each morning. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I cried on the first day of school. I knew that I would. In the car on the way there, I glanced in the rearview mirror and found three beautiful faces staring back at me. Smiles of excitement. New clothes all bright and shiny. And I realized that while they were on the cusp of exactly what they wanted, what they needed, I was not. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I've spent the last fourteen years mothering. I've pushed a cart through Costco with a kid or two perched up front more times than I can remember. I've snuggled a kid on the couch and watched Toy Story in the middle of the day in my jammies simply because I could. And while I know that my mothering is far from over, the mother that I've been all these years is slowly fading away and a new one is taking her place. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's a strange place to be. I've found myself staring at my children more and more, trying to memorize their exact features at this exact time in their life. Pondering who they will be. Who I'll be and whether or not I'll know how to mother who they are now. A sadness has settled around my shoulders as it has become more and more clear that I have moved on. That we all have. The chapter of mothering little ones has closed for me and I can't help but feel the finality of that. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have four amazingly tremendous spirits still in need of me. Less bandaging of an owie, more healing the wounds of unkind words. Less physical jobs required of me, more emotional support to be had. Less late nights with sick ones, more late nights of comforting an unwell spirit. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's a strange place to be. But I'm beginning to be okay with being here. </div>
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-19837330402375968832013-07-10T21:52:00.000-07:002013-07-10T21:57:26.748-07:008.Dear Sienna,<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
On Monday you turned 8. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm not quite sure what to say about that because the last eight years have been a whirlwind for me. I'm trying to figure out if you know everything I need you to know in your first eight years or not. As the third of four, I worry you sometimes get lost in the shuffle of our busy life. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Luckily, you always know how to make yourself known. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But do you know the rest of the important eight-year-old stuff? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Things like don't lose your silliness. Laughing at life<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> (and yourself)</i></span> is one of the best things you can do for yourself and those around you. It reminds us all not to take things too seriously and you excel at that my dear. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And don't worry about what everyone else is up to. Here's my lesson to you for your eighth birthday: life isn't fair. There will always be someone who has more, does more, gets more, excels more, etc. Don't let their good fortune ruin your day! Pat them on the back and say "well done!" Learning this simple idea will save you from oodles of heartache. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And take pride in all the unique little things that make you uniquely our Sienna girl. Love those dimples. Smile at that little white line that crosses the bridge of your nose. Hold your hear high and wear your height proudly. Feel pride in excelling at not one but two languages. Continue to surround yourself with sweet girls who make you feel good for being YOU. Because who you are is so amazing. </div>
<br />
<br />
I love your bright blue eyes. I love your passionate heart. I love your stubborn nature (<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>most of the time</i></span>) that fights for the underdog. I love that you love clothes and jewelery. I love that you laugh all the time and speak with the best accent this side of the Bronx. You are my very favorite 8-year-old girl and I'm so proud to be your mom.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSYFqIwXUs3XjRtVusEJ4wAeeX7aZw4UTayb9AsdcmDfDKAGyP56Zh3fL3Zx9LSKYKmoaFdw7qUZTvgJF5tz9Cr7MFRql9GqTG79PZ7jFN4NnXTcFIyWddbzwHt97jm8codpuQKA/s1600/1010896_10152936330395224_375793900_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSYFqIwXUs3XjRtVusEJ4wAeeX7aZw4UTayb9AsdcmDfDKAGyP56Zh3fL3Zx9LSKYKmoaFdw7qUZTvgJF5tz9Cr7MFRql9GqTG79PZ7jFN4NnXTcFIyWddbzwHt97jm8codpuQKA/s400/1010896_10152936330395224_375793900_n.jpg" width="302" /></a></div>
<br />
Happy Birthday Squish.<br />
<br />
Love, <br />
Mama <div class="blogger-post-footer"><div style="text-align:center"><A HREF="http://www.wordofblog.net/redirect.php?id=2782"><IMG SRC="http://www.wordofblog.net/ad_images/278217.jpg" BORDER="0"></A><BR> <FONT SIZE=1><A HREF="http://www.wordofblog.net/info.php?id=2782">Want this badge?</A></FONT></div>
</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-16922391215264592922013-06-30T21:34:00.001-07:002013-06-30T21:34:31.804-07:00Lessons From Mother Nature The other night I lay in bed, listening to the rain. <br />
<br />
As a child, I loved the rain. Probably had something to do with my soggy upbringing in the Pacific Northwest but I'm one of the rare ones that can honestly say that the rain always had ways of calming me, soothing me, and lulling me to sleep. <br />
<br />
As an adult? Not so much.<br />
<br />
So as I laid awake in the guest room of my mother's home, listening to the symphony of my children's soft breath dancing along to the melody of the rain, my mind began to wander. <br />
<br />
Not to the events of the day or what was waiting for us in the morning, but to the colossal, insurmountable ways that I was screwing up my children. <br />
<br />
But this one is <i>too this</i>, I thought. <br />
<br />
And that one is <i>too that</i>. <br />
<br />
And don't even get me started on <i>this</i>. Or <i>that</i>. And the <i>other.</i> <br />
<br />
And those soggy thoughts followed me throughout the next day. And the next. And nothing I did could get them away from me. The umbrella I usually carry, the one that keeps out the self-doubt, that protects me from unwanted thoughts and worry, was useless against the punishing thoughts that rained down. <br />
<br />
And as all self-doubt does, it colored everything that I said and did. My temper was short, my words were harsh and the chill from my own personal rainstorm was palpable. <br />
<br />
And then, as quickly as the rains came, they went. I shook out that umbrella and popped it open, holding it high and refused to let the cold chill me anymore. I took deep breaths, loved on my kids and did the best I could. <br />
<br />
Because here's the thing about rain: like all things in life, we can look at it from two different perspectives. It can be menacing, and chilling. It can dampen everything around us and foil our plans. It can keep us awake at night and soak our spirits. <br />
<br />Or.<br />
<br />
It can wash away the bad. Feed the souls of those in need. Cleanse our minds from the dirt that finds a way to sink in. It can renew us and lull us into a perfect sleep. <br />
<br />
I'm not a perfect mom. I can't sew. I can't help with math homework past the fifth grade. I can't reach things on the top shelf. But I am the perfect mom <i>for my four children</i>. The ones who love me regardless, who show up everyday to teach me and see through all my imperfections and think I'm the best mom there is. Because to them, I am. And that's all a mother needs. <br />
<br />
The rains will come again. They will do their best to wash away the good I'm so diligently trying to do. Find a way to get through my trusty umbrella. They might seep into my bones for a bit. <br />
<br />
But just for a bit.<br />
<br />
Because I'll be ready. Standing tall, arms out wide, ready to dance in the rain. <div class="blogger-post-footer"><div style="text-align:center"><A HREF="http://www.wordofblog.net/redirect.php?id=2782"><IMG SRC="http://www.wordofblog.net/ad_images/278217.jpg" BORDER="0"></A><BR> <FONT SIZE=1><A HREF="http://www.wordofblog.net/info.php?id=2782">Want this badge?</A></FONT></div>
</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-45245877976757879242013-06-19T21:47:00.000-07:002013-06-19T21:47:02.800-07:00Five.Dear Austin,<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Really? Five years old? How in the world did that happen? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Here's the funny thing about you: I never knew that we needed you. We weren't planning on having you, not in the least and then one day, I <i>knew</i>. Knew that there was a sweet little boy waiting to come to our family and once I knew, there was no turning back. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Your dad was a little harder to convince but once he met you, well, there's nothing that could keep you two apart. You are exactly what our family needed and you bring the rest of us so much happiness. In a lot of ways, you are the baby to not just our family but several of our friends as well and the love that surrounds you is immeasurable. You captivate everyone you meet and I'm told again and again what an amazing little man you are. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I couldn't agree more. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I was worried about the eight years that separates you and Spencer but the two of you have closed that gap like it's not even there. To say that you love your big brother is like saying</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
the sky is blue; you follow his every move and try your best to keep up. Luckily, Spence feels the same way and rarely tires of your constant shadow. I love watching the two of you together as you take on the world around you. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And then there's the girls. Hannah is a second mama to you and you love the way she cares for you. Sienna can give you a run for your money but I often find the two of you wrapped up in some world you've created together. One of my favorite things in the relationship you four kids have with one another. It fortifies me to know that you will always have each other to love and lean on. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As for me, well, you are my perfect little companion. I love that you get excited about everything, both big and small and that in so many ways you're fearless. I love that you still carry that blue blanket with the giraffe on it wherever you go and always look for me to snuggle with. I love that your face falls into dimples when you smile which you do most of the time. I love that are the perfect five-year-old blend of big kid and little kid and that you know your Mama loves you more than the air she breathes. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
You are the exact thing I never knew I wanted and I thank my lucky stars for you everyday. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKIrE4a-Vqf8CuejRiXa2mm58YZvHaPY3iOwrWZ9PyNtwxCcV9TEtjWP1AAYFs-sFeM8s4RCAMJ5_bWl5-FXLGdGwwBp1F1vGBDg8N5wV2sOnPEhyphenhyphenhrMyMMpIFZC4WVxyqULgQNQ/s1600/IMG_1792.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKIrE4a-Vqf8CuejRiXa2mm58YZvHaPY3iOwrWZ9PyNtwxCcV9TEtjWP1AAYFs-sFeM8s4RCAMJ5_bWl5-FXLGdGwwBp1F1vGBDg8N5wV2sOnPEhyphenhyphenhrMyMMpIFZC4WVxyqULgQNQ/s640/IMG_1792.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Happy Birthday, Auzzie. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Love,</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Mama </div>
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-69309811679068369192013-04-29T13:03:00.001-07:002013-04-29T13:03:14.474-07:0013<div style="text-align: justify;">
Dear Spencer,</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Yesterday you turned 13 years old. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
THIRTEEN. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am now the mother of a teenager. And it doesn't freak me out at all because who you are at 13 is what most people are trying to achieve in adulthood. Ok, it freaks me out a little but I'm doing my best. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
At 13, you love soccer and tennis and music. You are running for ASB (vice-pres again!) for the next school year. You are working hard on earning your Eagle Scout. You are studying daily and put in your time with algebra which is annoying now but will more than pay off when you don't have to take it in high school. You are figuring out ways to earn money for yourself. You are the best babysitter around to your siblings and never complain when asked to fill in for me or dad. You take things seriously, whether it be Senior Patrol Leader or planning an activity. You are developing a wicked sense of humor that often mirrors me and dad but is also uniquely your own. You are an accomplished writer who comes up with the most fascinating stories. You are a few hairs away from being officially taller than your Mama. You are finally starting to have a real appetite and ask for food all the time. You are kind and sweet and so easy to love. You make me proud every second of every day and I will never tire of cheering you on in whatever you do. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
At 13, you are driven and concerned with doing what's right. You have started to talk of college and missions and it overwhelms me to think of how little time I have left with you. Five summers separates you from the real world and I would be a fool not to admit that the idea makes my heart hurt. Five summers of watching you grow and seeing you accomplish your dreams. Five summers of that smile that comes so easily to your face and lights up our world. Five summers of dance parties in the kitchen, House Hunters at night, and the race from one sports practice to another. Five summers to convince you fully that you are capable of changing the world and that you have work to do. Five summers to love you with all that I have and pray that you'll know that every day of your life. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Happy Birthday Spence. You are a dream come true. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Love,<br />
Mama <div class="blogger-post-footer"><div style="text-align:center"><A HREF="http://www.wordofblog.net/redirect.php?id=2782"><IMG SRC="http://www.wordofblog.net/ad_images/278217.jpg" BORDER="0"></A><BR> <FONT SIZE=1><A HREF="http://www.wordofblog.net/info.php?id=2782">Want this badge?</A></FONT></div>
</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-16869456198885921452013-04-16T11:01:00.002-07:002013-04-16T11:01:16.453-07:00It Already Is<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">via thegoogleyear.blogspot.com</span></em></div>
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Last night when I crawled into bed, I laid very still. <br />
<br />
Brad could sense it, my unease, hovering just inches below the covers that I had pulled so tightly around me. <br />
<br />
We had a nice day. He worked and I worked. Lunch together. No homework for Spence (worth celebrating!) and rained out practice for he and Sienna. A new family over for dinner. <br />
<br />
The day should have been ranked as an above-average Monday. Worth celebrating as a few "that's sure nices" where thrown our way. <br />
<br />
But then. Then the big bad world reared it's ugly head and did it's best to ruin it. <br />
<br />
Something about me: I have a physical reaction 99% of the time to upsetting news. My stomach churns, my head pounds and shivers run through me. So when the news of <a href="http://usnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2013/04/15/17767721-investigators-believe-boston-bombs-were-pressure-cookers-hidden-in-backpacks-officials-say?lite" target="_blank">Boston</a> and <a href="http://www.deseretnews.com/article/865578343/Provo-community-searching-for-missing-girl.html" target="_blank">Utah</a> found their way to me, my reaction was physical. I couldn't get warm and stop myself from shaking. Tears threatened to fall at any moment. And the pain in my stomach was sudden and consuming. <br />
<br />
My emotional reaction to the bad in the world is also always the same: to run. Gather up my kids and run awy with them and Brad. Find a nice little spot for us to call our own and spend our days together where I know they are safe. The idea feels both logical and illogical and my rational brain knows better, but if my children and the children of the world can't be safe at school or a movie or the sidelines of a marathon, where can they be? <br />
<br />
Brad is used to this reaction in me and did what he always does; held me close, reminded me of all the good in the world and told me it would be ok. <br />
<br />
I won't lie...I had a hard time falling asleep but when I did, I dreamt of the good stuff. My happy kids and our healthy bodies. How people keep showing up day after day and doing the right thing. And when I woke this morning, I decided that this is where evil stops and hope reigns supreme. <br />
<br />
I'm not going to give the bad guys another moment of my time. I'm not going to run and hide. I'm not going to drive Spence to the bus stop or stop my kids from going to the park and promote the fear that these types of people are banking on me to promote. <br />
<br />
I'm going to hold my head high and live out loud, just like always. I'm going to cheer on my kids at soccer games and tennis matches, and yell out as many "good jobs!" to the other kids that I can. I'm going to know that I can count on my friends to fill in the gaps that I often create and more than anything, I'm going to love on my kids and The Rizz like there's no tomorrow. <br />
<br />
Cause maybe there isn't. <br />
<br />
But you won't find me cowering in my shell. You'll see me standing tall, smile on my face, knowing that the good far outweighs the bad and that heros exist everywhere. You'll see me throwing as much love out into the world as I can and praying that some of it lands on the people who need it most. You'll see me teaching my kids that the only way to change things is to show up and fight for what you believe, to love those you come in contact with and to wear a smile more than anything else. <br />
<br />
We took a blow today, you and I. We faltered for a moment and lost sight of what's most important. But our strength is returning and we're ready to say that love wins, that good people will change the world and that we're ready for battle. <div class="blogger-post-footer"><div style="text-align:center"><A HREF="http://www.wordofblog.net/redirect.php?id=2782"><IMG SRC="http://www.wordofblog.net/ad_images/278217.jpg" BORDER="0"></A><BR> <FONT SIZE=1><A HREF="http://www.wordofblog.net/info.php?id=2782">Want this badge?</A></FONT></div>
</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-87920562114010637622013-03-04T13:12:00.002-08:002013-03-04T13:12:26.904-08:00So yeah, this is happening. Join us? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-64217578340241290012013-02-13T19:00:00.001-08:002013-02-13T19:00:29.481-08:00It Takes A Village<div style="text-align: justify;">
I've been thinking lately about my little village. The village of people The Rizz and I have surrounded ourselves with who tend to us, our children, our happiness. The village that steps in when one of us has stepped out, the people who can turn my day around with a listening ear or a silly text that makes my day. I've come to rely on my village so heavily in fact that I can't quite imagine life without them. </div>
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I know plenty of private people. People who keep to themselves and handle everything within the walls of their own homes. People who never seem to need help and can handle all the up and downs and in betweens with grace and dignity and privateness. I admire the heck out of them. Personal crisis without shouting it from the rooftops? I get a hangnail and call the appropriate people. </div>
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I am an over-sharer to the enth degree. There is nothing that's off limits with me. Well, almost nothing. And while the repercussions of that has roared it's ugly head a time or two, I can't imagine being any other way. My life is one that is lived out loud, in HD 1080P color. It probably often begs for judgement but doesn't make excuses for it's choices. My village gets it and having them <i>get it</i> is one of my life's greatest gifts. </div>
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But here's what I love most about my village: it goes both ways. They take care of us and we try our best to take care of them. They love on my kids and aren't afraid to give the necessary hugs and kisses if they are needed. They know how we parent and pick up right where we left off. I know their kids allergies and who needs what to sleep. I know what movies are spooky to so-and-so and the signs of an imminent meltdown when some extra snuggles are all that's required. It overwhelms me sometimes, this community we've built to surround our children with good, reliable, kind people. People who have additional eyes and ears on my kids and protect them when it's needed. </div>
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Like when we were sledding and one of the dad's of our village scooped Austin up just before he would have been toppled over by a wayward sled, knowing that the Rizz and I were too far away to get to him. </div>
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Or when I failed to buy the right shirt/snack/notebook and another mom from our village grabbed them for me, thus making my daughter's day. </div>
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Or when a listening ear is given, free of judgement or prejudice so that I can rattle off my latest frustrations and ask for another perspective. </div>
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This is the stuff of our life and while it may looked bizarre to those on the outside, it's the only thing that makes sense to me. My kids know they are loved, by us and our village, and I'm convinced that more love makes better people. I find immense comfort knowing that when my children are frustrated with me and can't seem to get their point across, they have other adults in their lives they can trust and turn to. I would do the same for them in a heartbeat. </div>
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I love this. This crazy life we've constructed and the people we've chosen to be cheerleaders for us and our kids. This community of taking care of and being there for and working together to create the best possible little humans that we can. This village of people who makes our life <i>our life</i>. And while I stand in awe of those who can do it alone, I'm eternally grateful that we don't have to. </div>
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-87756143649021583192013-02-08T21:45:00.002-08:002013-02-08T21:45:44.975-08:00My Many Hats <div style="text-align: justify;">
For the time being, I've hung up my trusty stay-at-home mom hat and have eased my way into a working-mama model. I've done this before and we all managed to survive but I'm feeling like the lessons to be learned here are for me and for me alone. </div>
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Lessons like KEEP YOUR COOL. Don't lose your temper and yell at your Squish because she is so busy being 7 and you've lost sight of what that means. <br /><br />And REMEMBER THAT EVERYTHING ELSE CAN WAIT. YOUR KIDS CAN'T. In the witching hour of afternoons where homework meets breakfast kitchen cleanup meets dinner prep, slow down and look at your children. Determine what they need and then give it freely. It's usually a snuggle on the couch or a conversation at the table. The dishes will wait. You can throw something in the microwave for dinner. But the one-on-one time with your kids after their school day has ended is a crucial and necessary step to their well being. And yours. </div>
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And don't forget to BE THE MAMA THEIR USED TO. Remember, the crazy that this gig has caused in your life is nothing compared to what it's done to theirs so be predictable. React as usual. Show them that they are worth accountability and stability. </div>
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And my personal favorite DON'T MAKE EXCUSES. Yes, you are tired. Yes, you are sleep-deprived. Yes, you are trying to be everything to everyone with the added bonus of a nine to five but YOU chose this so buck up and get it done. There is no excuse for your short temper. Or your desire to do nothing in the evening but curl up with the book you're reading. They still need you to be YOU so put a smile on your face and give them that. </div>
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I'm grateful for the opportunity to see both sides. I'm lucky to be able to chose when I work and for how long. I know that it's a luxury not afforded to everyone. I'm grateful to be gainfully employed and the mother that I've always wanted to be. </div>
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SAHM meet Working Mama. Get comfortable with each other and figure it out. There's work to be done that only you can do. </div>
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-33619955180786525712013-01-10T08:03:00.002-08:002013-01-10T08:03:47.836-08:00Things I Need My Daugthers To Know, Sooner Rather Than Later <div style="text-align: justify;">
*<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>This was <span style="font-size: x-small;">originally wri<span style="font-size: x-small;">tten last weekend. I thought I w<span style="font-size: x-small;">ould re-v<span style="font-size: x-small;">isit <span style="font-size: x-small;">it <span style="font-size: x-small;">and rearrange my thoughts but have since decided that this is how I </span></span></span></span></span></span></i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">really</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> felt and <span style="font-size: x-small;">I want to be true to that. I'm p<span style="font-size: x-small;">retty sure a version for my boys is <span style="font-size: x-small;">coming soon. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span><br />
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Our day didn't end well. </div>
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And rather than harping on who did what or how poorly I reacted, I'm writing it out. Not that sad story of what led us here, to me, pounding away on the keyboard late one Saturday night, but the lessons I'm trying to teach, the things I need them to know, the mistakes I'm continuing to make, and what it's all for. </div>
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1. Your sister is the longest the relationship you will ever have and is not an experience afforded to everyone.<br />
2. When kindness reigns, anger flees.<br />
3. THE LITTLE THINGS ARE THE BIG THINGS.<br />
4. You will one-day miss the confines of the room you share. <br />
5. Friends will disappoint you but the safety of your sister will always carry you through.<br />
6. Crazy mode can drive the rest of us batty but is the memory-maker of your childhood.<br />
7. Serving your family with a happy heart will change the way you live your life. <br />
8. There is no one in the world you more closely resemble, on the inside, than your sister.<br />
9. Being angry is ok. It's what you do with that anger that shows who you really are.<br />
10. Forgiveness is key. Forgetting is the obstacle.<br />
11. There will come a time when no matter what happens to you, your sister will be the first person you think of to call and share it with.<br />
12. When my frustrations get the better of me, know that it is because of a weakness in <i>my</i> spirit and not yours.<br />
13. NO ONE LOVES YOU LIKE MAMA.<br />
14. I know who you are. And I'm proud.<br />
15. You can't gain self confidence from anyone else. It is something you have to find within you and let shine forth.<br />
16. People do stupid things. You will too. Learn and do better.<br />
17. Never underestimate the power of the words "I'm sorry."<br />
18. Ice cream sometimes really helps.<br />
19. Don't be afraid to say what you need.<br />
20. Trust your gut. In rarely disappoints.<br />
21. Laugh.<br />
22. Cry.<br />
23. Take care of yourself.<br />
24. Never let your last word be one of anger. Get over yourself and always part on good terms. <br />
25. The work of a mother is the hardest possible work. It is also the most divinely given and what will bring you the most joy. <br />
26. Fight for those who need a fighter. <br />
27. Lean on each other. Be vulnerable. <br />
28. Show your brothers what a strong woman is. Be their example of what to look for. <br />
29. Ask for help when you need it. <br />
30. Be each others cheerleader. Always offer your love and support. Let it be known that you are always in each others (and your brother's) corner. <br />
31. Listen the first time. <br />
32. Don't wait to be told. Look for ways to help. <br />
33. When given something, whether is be new socks or the latest video game, treat it with respect and take care of it. Someone sacrificed to make sure you have it.<br />
34. I AM ALWAYS HERE FOR YOU.<br />
35. Smile. Show the world who you are.<br />
36. Decide right now that your glass is half full. Look at what you have and not what you don't.<br />
37. Be smart. Study. Put in the work. No one's academic career is more important than yours.<br />
38. Watch your father. His example will teach you more than you ever imagined.<br />
39. Read.<br />
40. Do something nice for each other every day. Don't seek out praise. This habit will make into the type of women I already know you'll be.<br />
41. Spend time with your brothers, especially Spencer. He'll be gone before we know it.<br />
42. Get yourself organized. Tend to your room and keep it orderly.<br />
43. Know what's expected and when you're unsure, ask.<br />
44. Start now being the person you want to be.<br />
45. IT'S NEVER TOO LATE.<br />
46. Feel joy. You were meant to be happy.<br />
47. Pray. For yourself and each other. Often.<br />
48. Never doubt all of us who are cheering for you.<br />
49. Hold your head high. Don't let the insecurities of others become your own.<br />
50. Love with your whole self. Hold nothing back. <br />
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Above all, be kind. To yourselves, to each other, to the world around you. We are in desperate need of more kindness and I know that it lives within each of you. Use what you've been given and change the world my girlies. <br />
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-66842687849991593382012-12-27T11:43:00.004-08:002012-12-27T11:43:34.771-08:00From Us to You<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We are soaking up every inch of this Christmas break. Sledding in Leavenworth. Mugs of hot chocolate. Movies & puzzles & and lots of cozying up. Our wish for you this holiday season is that you're able to hold those you love close and take it all in. Merry Christmas. </div>
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-52891749793444412642012-12-14T13:51:00.000-08:002012-12-14T17:52:34.104-08:00A Christmas Give-Back Like No Other <div style="text-align: justify;">
I've always been grateful that my husband chose the profession that he did because it felt safe to me. He wasn't a police officer or a fire fighter. I didn't have to worry about him serving in the military and fighting wars in faraway places. The walls of a school provided protection for everyone inside. They formed a place of learning, where adults spent their time giving their best to our children and children showed up, carrying only the fear of a bad grade. </div>
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That's what I used to think. </div>
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We know it's not true anymore. </div>
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I can't wrap my brain around the events of today in Connecticut. I couldn't do it about Columbine either. Things happen that we aren't meant to understand. My brain knows that. My heart, not so much. </div>
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I was excited this morning to hop on here and invite everyone over Monday night for the <a href="http://www.prpakakjo.blogspot.com/2011/12/pretty-please.html" target="_blank">Fifth Annual Christmas Give-Back. </a>It's one of my favorite traditions that my family and I do each year and I love the conversations I have with my kids about service and love of others and the true meaning of Christmas. This year, I was planning on focusing on the needs of children and was hoping to collect diapers, blankets, formula, etc to children in need. </div>
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My heart has since been pulled in a slightly different direction. </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
FIFTH ANNUAL CHRISTMAS GIVE-BACK </div>
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MONDAY, DECEMBER 17TH</div>
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6:30-8:30</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
THE JOHNSON HOME </div>
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Here's what I'm asking: please come Monday night. Please load up your family and stop in. The hot chocolate will be ready. Some treats just for you. And all I want you to bring is a letter, or a card, or a picture your children drew that we can send to the grieving community of Sandy Hook Elementary. I know it doesn't seem like a lot and maybe it's not as important as diapers, but letting those poor families know that they are not alone and that we, all the way over here in P-town, Washington are grieving right along with them just might help. It might put a smile where one hasn't been. It might start a conversation that needs to be had. It might uplift someone who is feeling so incredibly low. I can't imagine the state of my heart if this had happened to my child. I can imagine the love I would feel knowing that others were thinking of them too. </div>
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If you have something else, a poem or a picture or whatever it may be that has comforted you in times of great sorrow, please bring it along as well. I'm hoping to collect a mountain of written prayers and cards of love to send off. </div>
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Friends, hold your kids. Hug your spouse. Tell them how you feel, directly, about each person in your family. And pray. For comfort, for peace, for understanding. </div>
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See you Monday. </div>
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-55047849472976590462012-12-03T10:26:00.002-08:002012-12-03T10:26:31.085-08:00You Know What They Say About Making Plans <div style="text-align: justify;">
Monday morning. </div>
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A little slow moving thanks to a restless night of sleep but finally up and at em. Start laundry. Make breakfast. Workout. Shower, dress, yell commands down the stairs to my kids, out the door. </div>
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Errand list reads as follows: </div>
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::Hobby Lobby (envelopes)</div>
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::TJ Maxx (Elf for a friend)</div>
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::Costco (something on every aisle)</div>
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::Winco (filling in the gaps left by Costco)</div>
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Come home, settle Austin into something that will keep him busy for awhile, complete Christmas card envelopes and get them ready to mail, figure out dinner, pick girls up from school in time to get to Spencer's basketball game, come home and begin The Nighttime Madness Routine. </div>
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All was going swimmingly until I was on the freeway heading to Errand #1 when Austin started to chuck oatmeal and sparkly toast in the backseat of my van. </div>
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And since he was in the very backseat and I was driving on the freeway, there wasn't much to do except yell support towards him and hope that his breakfast was miraculously making it's way into a bag I knew didn't exist. </div>
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Here's the thing about throw up in the Johnson Household: Brad handles all of it. Sometime after I DO! and before our first child came, I causally laid down this rule.</div>
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"How was your day? Good, mine too. I have a kid in my class who likes to punch me in the boob so I'm having a parent conference later this week. By the way, you get to handle all matters of vomit once we have kids. Care for more potatoes?"</div>
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And lovingly, Brad has risen to the challenge every single time. While normally hard to wake in the middle of the night, I have perfected a low-decibel moan that lets him know one of our four littles, or shamefully, even myself, is visiting the porcelain king and is in need of assistance. </div>
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So this! This throwing up on the freeway in my van thing was upsetting for a myriad of reasons, and not the least of which was knowing that I WAS GOING TO HAVE TO CLEAN IT UP. BY MYSELF. </div>
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(And less you think I'm a troll of epic proportions, my kids have a long-standing history of The Random Pukes which I was immediately convinced this was. Sienna mastered it but all four of them have been known to throw out a random chuck and then get back to business. There is no formal diagnosis.)</div>
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Once home, I made my way to the backseat to survey they damage and all I have to say is FARG: oatmeal and sparkly toast sure carry a lot of volume. It was everywhere and there in the midst of apples and cinnamon was my little boy, holding his arms out and quietly crying. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And then it didn't matter. I scooped him up, carried him into the bathroom, tore of his clothes and settled him into a warm bath full of bubbles. I patted his head, kissed his cheeks and scrubbed away the yucks. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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And then I cleaned out the car. Sprayed this and wiped that and handled the whole nasty mess all on my own. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm claiming victory for the day. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
To be safe, Austin is snuggled on the couch with a movie where he just called to me requesting carrots and hummus. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Random pukes for the win. </div>
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-72124516336766967722012-11-29T12:49:00.003-08:002012-11-29T12:49:48.281-08:00Have You Seen Me Today? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Dear Austin,</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
You have been pulling extra hard on this mama's heartstrings lately. From tears at preschool to the grip around my neck, not wanting me to let you go, you've made my heart swell with love.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And here's the thing: I know I'm not supposed to smile at the sight of those tears or the feel of your grip but I do. I do because it means that for now, you still want me above all else and that does this mama heart good. To know that I'm the one who can comfort you, I'm the one you want to spend your time with, I'm the one who gets to do all the cuddles and reading time, the tucking in and snuggling close means the world to me because I'm also the one who knows that it will end before I"ll ever be ready for it to. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When people first meet you, they comment on your perfectly imperfect gate-tail face, your bright eyes and huge smile and the charm that pours out of you. They mention what a little lover you are and that you probably always get what your heart desires because of all your glorious you-ness. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And they are right. Because you do. And you are. And I love it so. And I don't feel bad about saying that one of the things that I love the best about you is knowing that I'm at the top of your list. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
You are certainly at the top of mine. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Love, <br />
Mama<div class="blogger-post-footer"><div style="text-align:center"><A HREF="http://www.wordofblog.net/redirect.php?id=2782"><IMG SRC="http://www.wordofblog.net/ad_images/278217.jpg" BORDER="0"></A><BR> <FONT SIZE=1><A HREF="http://www.wordofblog.net/info.php?id=2782">Want this badge?</A></FONT></div>
</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-61859509351624829132012-11-28T09:44:00.003-08:002012-11-28T09:44:58.885-08:00Middle School Revelations Or What Happens When You Have Nothing Else To Do <div style="text-align: justify;">
Today finds me at the local middle school. Which means I have some time on my hands as these little critters write summaries about the Sumerians and Mesopatamia. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
(Note: so glad I'm out of middle school.)</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Since I've found myself with extra time and my options are limited, I've been reading through some of my archives. It's funny how I can pick a post written long ago and immediately be transported back to that time, that moment when the words I chose to write were so important and necessary. I remember the frustrations, the feelings of overwhelming love and happiness, the minutia of my life as each post was written. It is the best possible reminder of the life I'm living. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So why have my visits to this space become more and more sporadic? Why do I spend my time with other things instead of recording the days of my life? The stories and funnies and growing upness that is occurring right before my eyes? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />Not sure. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It feels in some ways that blogging has taken a bit of backseat to the other trappings of social media and I totally get that. Facebook! And Pinterest! And Instagram! </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Oh my. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And I love those outlets for exactly what they are; ways for me to peek into the lives of those I love and say hi. I'm guessing like so many of you, they are the relaxing, stress-free minutes you eek out for yourself each day that help you decompress and breathe. And breathing, the<em> real way</em> and not the life-sustaining way, is one of the most important things we can do for ourselves. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So I get it. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But I also get that I started this space as a way to document my life and the lives of my Love and my Littles and I have loved reading back on the days that we've had, both the good and the bad that I chose to document here. My comments on Facebook will long be forgotten but the stories that I share about who did what and the pictures I use will last a lifetime. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Yes, the comments have dwindled. The followers have stopped following. But if my intention is to record my life, none of that should matter. And I think I let it matter more than it should have. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So I'm holding myself accountable. I'm setting a goal for myself of weekly posting and I'm going to do my darndest to reach it. I'd love to have you along for the journey but if not, that's ok too. This space is for me and I'm ready to reclaim it. </div>
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-25426091978452731072012-11-14T10:10:00.000-08:002012-11-14T10:10:43.627-08:00My Modern Wish <div style="text-align: justify;">
So, Hannah turned 10.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And we did what you do when someone has a birthday. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
We had a party. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Several friends over for the night with dancing and nail painting and movie watching and all in all just being 10. It was loud and chaotic but perfectly Hannah and other than the Wii-remote-to-someone's-eye-who-had-to-leave-to-go-get-stiches-thing, we handled it beautifully. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
A few days before the party, Hannah mentioned that she <i>just had </i>to invite this girl from her class to come because they were the best of friends and she couldn't turn 10 without her. I know this little girl from my time at the school and because Hannah talks of her continually and was delighted to have her at the party but I calmly explained that since this young girl's parents didn't know us, it would be doubtful that she could come. Hannah left for school <i>the day of the party</i> with invite in hand, determined to get her friend here. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
You can imagine my surprise when she came through the door after school informing me that this girl's parents would be dropping her off for the night at 6 pm sharp. I was so doubtful that I didn't really believe it until she called asking for directions to our house. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This is where I climbed way up top to the moral high ground just so I could have a good view of things. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>I would never leave my child at a party where I didn't know the family. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Especially not a sleepover. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>They must be horrible parents as they clearly don't care about the safety of their child. </i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
(Not that we are unsafe. Just sayin.) </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When this sweet little one showed up with her dad, Hannah called for The Rizz to come and talk with the father. He was all smiles and manners and they spoke for a few minutes before he hugged his daughter and left. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And this is what I decided: wouldn't it be nice if we really could just trust each other? Wouldn't it be dreamy if we sought out the good in situations and people, believing that we're all in this world together with the same goal? To love each other's children and help keep them safe? Wouldn't it be life-changing to not have a million different things to fear when it comes to our kids? That people would do as they say and say what they did? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The view from the high ground clouded over as I gave up my perch and set about loving the kids that were in my home for the night. They were safe. They were warm. They were fed and loved and appreciated. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Just as it should be. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-87967573097748620722012-11-07T09:51:00.002-08:002012-11-07T09:51:50.494-08:0010Dear Hannah,<br />
<br />
Ten whole years. <br />
<br />
A decade of having a daughter and loving her like no other. <br />
<br />
Ten years of watching you grow, first noticing your resemblance to me and then seeing your personality peek out and reveal that you and I are indeed cut from the same cloth. <br />
<br />
We love the same things. Pasta, movies and all things girly. <br />
<br />
We get frustrated by the same things. Rules, restrictions and being told no.<br />
<br />
We see the world in precisely the same way and yet often find ourselves staring at each other in wonder, trying to figure out which battle to pursue and which to let lie. <br />
<br />
You have challenged me, sweet Hannah, to step up my mothering game and be fully present in each moment that we share. You have beautifully mimicked my desire to help others and have a nurturing soul that gives and gives and gives. I see a life of service ahead for you, perhaps as a teacher or maybe a doctor where you can open up that huge heart of yours and pour out love to those in need. <br />
<br />
It's no wonder that Austin calls for you when sad. <br />
<br />Or that Sienna, who will fight you on just about every silly thing she can think of, will also cry for you when you're not around. <br />
<br />
Or that Dad and I with well up with love when you show your Hannahness to someone in need.<br />
<br />
You are a light. A light that will shine on and cast a shadow of hope and happiness and love wherever you go. <br />
<br />
Go far, my girl and dream big. The world is yours for the taking. <br />
<br />
Happy Birthday Munners.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Love,<br />
Mama <div class="blogger-post-footer"><div style="text-align:center"><A HREF="http://www.wordofblog.net/redirect.php?id=2782"><IMG SRC="http://www.wordofblog.net/ad_images/278217.jpg" BORDER="0"></A><BR> <FONT SIZE=1><A HREF="http://www.wordofblog.net/info.php?id=2782">Want this badge?</A></FONT></div>
</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-65794431587028221922012-10-12T12:34:00.001-07:002012-10-12T12:34:20.833-07:00Exactly Sometimes, you just want to pull the covers over your head and not peek out for awhile. <br />
<br />
But that would mean that the yucky stuff wins and I'm so not okay with that. <br />
<br />
So instead,<br />
<br />
I'll mop floors,<br />
<br />
turn up the music,<br />
<br />
and maybe even let this troll heart of mine shed a tear or two.<br />
<br />
Onward and upward.<br />
<br />
Onward<br />
<br />
and<br />
<br />
upward. <br />
<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div style="text-align:center"><A HREF="http://www.wordofblog.net/redirect.php?id=2782"><IMG SRC="http://www.wordofblog.net/ad_images/278217.jpg" BORDER="0"></A><BR> <FONT SIZE=1><A HREF="http://www.wordofblog.net/info.php?id=2782">Want this badge?</A></FONT></div>
</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30518121.post-21631039612271147802012-09-20T08:26:00.005-07:002012-09-20T08:26:47.551-07:00Where We Are <div style="text-align: justify;">
Have I mentioned that I now have three glorious mornings a week in which I am completely, utterly, kidless? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This is the stage of life that I've been not-so-patiently waiting for the past 12 years and here it is, thrust upon me and I'm filling my time with the things I've been waiting for. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Like running. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And running.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And more running. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But also trips to Costco, and browsing at TJ Maxx, and even getting my house in order. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The medicine cupboard, the junk drawer, all spic and span and shiny once again. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And while I sort of love it, this new found freedom that I have, it's also sinking in and <i>this is it</i>. This is where I find myself, standing on the edge of my kids not needing me so much and the busyness of their lives taking over the simplicity of mine. It's odd and a bit terrifying all at the same time. I am now often on the sidelines instead of calling the game and it feels foreign to me, this new hat that I'm wearing. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I've always tried to enjoy each stage that my kids are in, not wishing them away for the next one. I loved getting up with my babies at night, snuggling them close and nursing them back to sleep, I truly did. I loved the feeling of triumph in navigating the mall with two littles in the stroller and not one melt down to be seen. I loved picnics at the park after preschool and then packing lunches and sending them off for a full day. I love watching them in their activities, whether it be piano or soccer and cheering them on no matter what. I've loved it all and know without question that I will love what's to come. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But this freedom I have now, this time to myself to do as I please has served as a giant, screaming reminder that<i> they are growing up, </i>and while I sort of love it, I sort of loathe it too. From my oldest who stands almost eye-to-eye with me to my littlest who can button his own pants and do his own zippers, I find myself missing my kids. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Missing her sparkling blue eyes and the cutest voice you've ever heard. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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Missing his quiet play, watching him get lost in worlds of train stations and engines.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Missing her perfectly round race, completely with chubby cheeks and a smile that could change the world. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Missing his snuggles, his blue blanket with the giraffe draped over us both as we meld together on the couch. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Their growing. I'm cheering. It's where we are now.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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</div>PRPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13328370945104401854noreply@blogger.com4