Lifted up.

I have convinced myself, as of late, that no one really reads this, and thus have silently slunk away. 

If you couldn't tell. 

But, lately, I've been inspired to keep up with my old friend, the blog.

Mostly because of a group of lovely people on Instagram. 

I have found a niche of lovely people that have become more than just a community of like minded 'techie-nerds', but more like an interweb family.

Oh, if only we could all fly to the same place and spend a day in the sun together...

Now wouldn't that be lovely?

Life has been more than distracting lately.  I am having a hard time keeping up with 'older' kids and all of their sports and school commitments.  Which is ironic considering we limit activities, sports, and clubs to one thing a season/semester.  We have approached a time when seasons overlap for several weeks, and games and practices have become to numerous to talk about.

Is it wrong that I would be perfectly content if they wanted to stay home and read books?  Ha!

Which is strange since I was VERY active in my adolescence both athletically and academically, and Big Daddy played numerous sports and continued with football in college.  I like to refer to my mom style as vintage parenting rather than lazy parenting.  That's seems fair.  The whole 'keep it simple, stupid' phrase is constantly resonating in my head every time I'm approached with a new sign up sheet. 

Alas, it makes them happy to play, and participate, and learn.  They get fantastic grades, and are good kids.  I don't get to decide everything for them, even though I wished I could. 

Life is fast, and I can only slow down so much.  We must be doing something right if I hear them say CONSTANTLY that their friends get video games whenever they want, have cell phones, TVs in their rooms, etc.  The pace here is slower than outside of these walls, but certainly not as slow as when we were kids. 

Which all I can say, although not eloquently, is that is dumb. 

What's the rush?  Time robs us of so much already, why do we push it along? 

So, after all that rambling...I can safely say {disregard all the times I've said it before}, that I'm back. 

And this time, something feels different when I say it. 

Really.

True to my word.

I'm starting to think that people have a HUGE misconception about me and what my house looks like on a daily basis.

I had promised awhile back to dispell those non-truths.  I have delayed this post as long as I could.  Mostly because I don't want anyone to think I'm a mess. 

If my house looks a mess at any given moment, what must my insides look like? 

To honestly answer that question, sometimes my insides are a mess.  Even with all the healing that's occurred on my heart the last couple of years, I still have dark days.  Bad times. 

Don't we all?

 So, here you go.  This is what my house looks like most days. 

A mess.

Sometimes I feel like the messier it is, the happier I am.  The more I've learned to let go of stupid hang ups.  Keeping your house perfect all the time is a source of GREAT stress and anxiety.  It's a full time job of worry and psychoticness.  Trust me when I tell you that.  I've lived that life.

Cleaning the house to tip top shop 3+ times a week for 3 years so that Betsy's home therapists didn't think I was a failure when they came over to work with her was hell.  Because somehow having a clean and tidy house made me have it all together. 

Back then, I didn't.  Not even by a mile.

But, I wanted so badly to control the things that I could because the rest of my life seemed to be spiraling so desperately out of control.  It was a hopeless feeling.  At the time, I thought my cute, clean house was all I had.  I was blind then.  By grief, by sadness, by hopelessness, by desperation, by whatever you want to call it, but blind.

I still have work to do.  Lots.  I know this because you have no idea how badly I want to make a million and three excuses as to why it looks like this.  Which really isn't that bad considering most of the mess is pillows, clothes that need to be put down the laundry shoot, and dirty dishes in the sink, and let's face it my toliets are freshly bleached and tubs scoured out, but for me this is a disaster. 

I want to scream at the top of my lungs to the internets that this is right after getting the kids on the bus.  That this is right before I start to do my morning tidy-up routine.  That I am editing photos like a mad woman {tis the season}, and haven't been staying current on my housework.  That it's get my work done and feed the kids, or have spotless floors.  That it NEVER looks this bad.  That I plan on cleaning tomorrow when the kids DON'T have a half day of school to interrupt the progress. 

But, those are all just excuses.

See? That's what I do.  I am always trying to make excuses for things like this, so you don't think my house is, heaven forbid, messy sometimes. 

**GASP!**

I mean, what would that say about me as a person?

Would you like me less?

Would you like me more?

Would I like myself less?  More? 

It's territory I don't really want to explore, but I'm going to.

So go ahead and judge away.

I am human. 

I have four kids.

Wait a minute, are those just more excuses?

As much as I would like to, I canNOT control everything.

A lesson driven home by the birth of a baby girl that would change everything I thought I knew about life.  Thank you, Miss Betsy Jane.

Random fact about me...I HATE a closet that is left open.  HATE, HATE, HATE.  Always have for as long as I have memories. 

Hey, at least Pete made his bed this morning.  That's progress.

Someday, I'll let you see our laundry/storage area.  For now, I'm not that brave.

FYI...

This parenting gig is hard.  Really hard.  That is all.

Tuesday thoughts...

first day of school, 2010

As the summer comes to an end...I am struck with a feeling of being blessed.

Blessed without measure.  4 healthy, amazing kids who are actually absorbing the values that we are trying so very hard to instill in them day by day.

Coaches, teachers, grandparents, friends, their friends' parents...all tell us what  a good job we are doing.  This makes me happy.  Compliments coming from people that interact with them when we aren't around.  It's a tough job, and it certainly isn't ever over no matter how many kudos we get.  It's made even harder when your time is divided by 4.  Tougher still when you are submerged in a world where it seems most people are raising their children to be entitled.

We aren't perfect parents by any stretch of the imagination.  We fail probably as much as we succeed.  I'm learning it is very much a 1 step forward, 2 steps backwards process.  And that, my friends, makes it very difficult getting up that 'raising your kids' hill.  It's more of a mountain, really.  A sheer cliff.

As I still struggle to find balance in building a new hobby/business, running a household, focusing on my kids, blogging, finishing the new abode...I have to remember what is most important.  THEY ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT THING.  No matter how much I try not to lose myself in this parenting journey, 4 other little souls are more important than my own.

It's hard not to think of Jake, too. Without him by my side I couldn't be half of the mom that I am.  {Okay, three quarters of the mom that I am.}

Who was it that said if it's a job worth doing, it's worth doing right?  I think it is really a proverb, but that is a debate for another day.

Blessings to you.

Strength in Pain.

taken on my iPhone

Recently, I've been 'chatting' with a reader.  She is a breast cancer survivor.  She told me I'm a wonderful mom.  I suppose I try my best.  I think dealing with a serious illness, and raising a family makes her a far better mother than I.  Funny how that all works!

So, I've been thinking a lot about this idea of drawing strength from pain.  Not only pain in our own lives, but the pain that others are going through.  At first, the idea seems a bit wrong.  To find encouragement in the crap that someone else is enduring.  Talk about guilt.  Of which, I think is such a wasted emotion.  But, isn't this idea sort of human nature?

Let me give you an example.  When Betsy was in the process of trying to be diagnosed, she underwent numerous tests and procedures at St.Louis Children's Hospital.  When you sit for hours in the lobby and waiting rooms of such a place, you see things.  Things that rock you to your core.  Sick children.  Parents of sick children.  Children with multiple & severe physical and mental handicaps.  Much worse than Betsy.  Blind and deaf children.  Children with no hair, amputated limbs, burn scars.  Your heart aches for them and their families.  Then, you feel foolish.  Almost all of them are smiling or laughing.  Hugging and kissing.

No matter how happy they seem, you can't help but draw strength from the hell that is their inner pain.  You can't help but count your own blessings.  While in the hospital, I found myself saying silent prayers of thanksgiving that Betsy was healthy.  The worst of the possible diagnosis behind us, she would have a long life ahead of her.  Sure it would be fraught with challenges because of her physical and mental disabilities, but she was happy, healthy, and strong.

Likewise, I've been told that people draw strength from our own story.  I have to giggle at that thought.  For us, it's not a big deal anymore.  At least, not like it used to be.  When you're knee deep in it, it consumes you. Then, as the days goes by, it becomes normal.  Or, at least, a new normal.  I don't think I'm a hero.  I don't think what we do makes us special.  If changing my almost-7-year-old's poo diaper makes me awesome, well, then, maybe I am.  But, I think it just makes me a mom.  Any of you would do it, too.

I wonder if parents of terminally ill children feel this way, too?  If they get to a point where all of the turmoil becomes normal?  Expected?  I pray I never, ever find out.

I do know this...the answer to the question, "How do you do it?".  You just do.  Just like I imagine parents of sick children do it.  Or kids with parents that are sick.  Or families that lost everything in the Joplin tornado.  You just do.  I can't speak for them, but I know we aren't extraordinary.  We don't deserve a medal or trophy.  Sure, I still fall apart every now and then.  Doesn't everyone over something at some point?  

The human condition is a funny thing. I suspect we will never understand it.  But, I think we all sell ourselves short.  I think we all have the possibility to amaze ourselves when faced with challenges.  To rise to the occasion.  

Perspective is essential.  Sometimes I wake up and think meeting the basic needs of my brood is a challenge because all I want to do is get back in bed, or go shopping, or veg out and watch movies and eat junk, or read a book ALL day.  But, I can't.  So, you just do it.  The best you can.  That's all any of us can do.

And, now, I will try my best to clean under the couches and beds.  It's been weeks.  Ewwww!

Global responsibiltiy.

photo of a big oak in our front yard

It's Earth Day.

I must admit for a long time

(the greater part of my 32 years)

this day didn't mean a whole lot to me.

Fun activities to do at school,

themed television shows,

save the Earth,

blah, blah, blah.

Then,

I had children.

A pull to make this planet the best it could be.

For them, their children, all children.

Suddenly,

I had a new consciousnss.

An awakening to what throwing a diaper or a can

in the garbage really meant.

Chemicals in food, cleaning products, chemicals everywhere.

Now, I must admit...

my enlightenment can be shortlived at times.

I can't always get to Trader Joe's or buy the food I'd like,

I don't always want to rinse out every recyclable that crosses my path,

or is it feasible to clump earrands together to reduce my carbon footprint.

However,

I am aware.

I make a concerted effort everyday.

Rosie wore cloth diapers,

our recycle been is full to the brim every week,

I buy eco-friendly cleaning products,

buy unprocessed/organic when I can,

unplug/turn things off when not in use,

and generally, try to be less wasteful.

With 4 kids, the waste can abound at times.

Although, every little bit helps.

Really.

I could do a lot better.

No doubt.

But the distance I've come is vast.

All without burning any extra fossil fuels.

The difference a year makes.

Easter 2009

Easter 2010

Time is not a mother's friend.

There is never enough of it in a day.

Obviously, for mundane duties: laundry, cooking, cleaning.

But, the good stuff, too: cuddling, playing, running, laughing.

Don't get me started on the speed at which it travels.

It slips away too quickly.

One day, your first born 7 lb. 12 oz. bundle

is a shoe size away from MEN'S shoes and talks about girls with his friends (whaaat?).

The second born who came screeching into the world at 8 lbs. 6 oz.,

and who was a late walker is being asked to be in the gifted program (amazing).

Numero 3, our first little girl weighing 7 lbs. 7 oz.,

is off to kindergarten in the fall and sets the table at dinner (never thought we'd see the day).

And the youngest bundle who was placed in my arms at 8 lbs. 1 oz.,

is as tall as kids in kindergarten and says words like 'appreciate', 'ridiculous', and 'ferocious'

(oh, the mouth on that one).

Every mother thinks their kids are the best, the greatest, the end all be all.

I am certainly no exception.

But, this Easter, I was struck with just how special they each are.

How quickly they're growing and becoming so independant.

Such indiviuals, so unique.

Like it happened overnight or something.

These little people just begging to be loved, and nurtured, and praised, and disciplined.

Tiny humans that Jake and I made and placed where there was no one before.

A choice we made for them without their input,

and now left needing an example of how to live laid before their feet.

Good, strong, positive role models.

Ones who practice what they preach.

Early to rise, early to bed.

3 squares a day, a clean, happy home.

Routine.

Dependability.

After all, it's the least we can do.

Right?

When they have that, they will teach it and give it to their children.

The cycle will continue.

Parents who love & respect their 'teeny' spirits.

                                                Parents who love & respect one another.
                                                   Parents who love & respect others.

Parents who may make mistakes, but learn from them and get it right the next time.

Parents who aren't selfish.

Who don't just look out for '#1' but notice what others might be needing.

Aware.

Present.

Not texting at the park while their kids play,

but playing right along with them.

Not dragging them to the gym daily to sneak in a workout,

but taking a walk with them or

waking up before they do to get their exercise on.

Not reading a magazine while they color,

but coloring beside them.

Not telling them, "Not right now, I'm folding laundry.",

but getting off your tail and seeing what it is they want/need.

(I am so guilty of that one. Yikes!)

I know it's not always realistic.

But, it's definitely doable.

Actually, more often than not it's doable.

We only get one chance at this.

One.

They need us more than they'll ever be able to tell us.

Oh, and...

Happy Birthday, Mummy!

You are one silly, adventurous lady of 56 years young.

I love you!

Same & Different

Last week, Jake and I had a meeting for Betsy concerning her transition from her early childhood school setting to primary school, her inclusion in a regular education setting for parts of the day, her new special education classroom, and ALL OF THOSE THERAPY HOURS.  It's so overwhelming, and a bit sad (because we're even in a position that requires such a meeting), and happy (because there are so many people that truly care about Betsy and love her as evidenced by teary eyes), and scary (because we just don't know what her educational future holds).

Let's face it...kindergarten is hard for any mom. 

It's the big time.

It dosen't get any easier.

I sobbed in my car the day the bus took Jake away, and 2 years later with Pete wasn't any different.

I'm not sure how things will go this fall with Betsy.

I'm nervous.

My Dad has always said {concerning parenting}, "What you do for one, you do for the other."  Material and otherwise.  For all intents and puposes, I believe this to be true. 

But, what do you do when one of your littles is very obviously different?  A difference so great that even the other littles take notice and adjust their own interactions and behaviors with her? An anatomical and physiological difference? 

Whatever I do to try and lessen that gap, it's still there.  Undeniable.  I mean, let's face it...Betsy Jane gets treated differently.  Necessary?  Absolutely.  For better or worse? I'm not sure yet.  Undoubtedly, I'll know the answer to that in 15-20 years. I'll be able to tell the effect it had on the other beasties.  And, I hope I will have raised them well enough to take responsibility for their own place in this world, and not be victims or blame their father, me, or anyone else for everything that may go wrong in their lives.  :)

Fact: the differences between Miss Betsy and her peers in certain areas is quite profound.

This is why letting her go is hard.  Not necessarily hardER, but different.  In every fiber of my being, it feels different.  Cutting loose the bird that hasn't quite learned to fly, and expecting them to take flight anyway in the cruel, unforgiving skies. 

Okay, that might be a little dramatic.  Because, for realz, that girl rarely disappoints or fails to rise to the occasion.  But, it's still a pretty intense feeling.

How do you let go of something that was never really yours to begin with?  I'm just here to help her along in this life.  She is her own woman, a daughter of God, a free and independent spirit. 

And, she's ready.

I'm not...but she is.  Oh, yes, yes, yes she is.

parenting: seinfeld style.

I read a lovely article in 'Parade' magazine this weekend by Harlan Coben.  It was all about Jerry Seinfeld, his life, and his family. 

It was refreshing to say the least.

Here are some highlights:

   " 'I love it (having kids).  I love having a family and kids, and all the madness.  There is no aspect of it I don't like.  Even when it's horrible, I love it.  I didn't realize how tired of single life I was and how ready for married life.' "

    "Although his own children obviously want for nothing, Seinfeld works hard not to be too indulgent.  He bemoans the way some people cater to their children's every whim.  Seinfeld has three rules of parenting, what he calls 'the poison Ps.' The first is Praise-'We tell our kids, 'Great Job!' too much', he says.  The second is Problem-solving-'We refuse to let our children have problems.  Problem-solving is the most important skill to develop for success in life, and we for some reason can't stand it if our kids have a situation that they need to 'fix'.  Let them struggle-it's a gift.'

    "Just as he's explaining the third P-'giving your child too much pleasure'- a woman comes in the deli with her three young daughters and buys them all huge cookies.  'Can you believe this?' Seinfeld says, gesturing like his TV counterpart used to.  'It's 5:30pm.-when will they have dinner?  At 8?'

    "So why does he think we treat our kids like that?  His eyes light up.  'Do you want to hear my latest theory?' he asks.  'It's a little far-fetched.'  He leans in and explains how children today aren't as innocent as they used to be.  'We feel so guilty for destroying that innocence-which is what we did-so we're now trying to repair that by creating perfect childhoods for our children.'  He laughs, but he's serious at the same time.  'The reason we overdo it so much is because we feel so bad about it.

   "Seinfeld also believes that it's best to teach children by example.  'Kids are not going to do what you tell them to do or think like you tell them to think,' he says. 'Kids are watching how you deal with the waiter or that handyman, and they are probably more likely to imitate you.'"

   "His dad's death at age 66, when Jerry was 30, was the first great loss of Seinfeld's life.  Did it crush him?  Surprisingly, after a brief pause, he says no.

    "'I tend to accept life as it is,' he says. 'I'm not one of those 'Life isn't faif' people.  I tend to accept whatever the limits are, whatever the rules are.'  He sits back.  His love for his father is evident, but no more evident of the basic fact that the man is no longer around..."

For me, it is so nice to know that someone like silly Jerry Seinfeld has a very realistic outlook on parenting and life. 

I mean, I know of people who can't even keep their checkbook straight, or figure out that purchasing groceries is more important than getting their hair done.  And these are individuals from my generation.  Over indulging is such a tragedy.  It makes for adults who can't seem to function in the real world, and worse yet, aren't equipped to parent their own children.  If you're taught to be entitiled to everything as a child, one of two things seems to happen...you still feel entitled when you're grown putting yourself before everyone else, including your own children, or you pass the same mentality to your children reapeating the cycle all over again.  I've witnessed it, and it is truly sad. 

That being said, I'm not a perfect person or parent.  I do have a pretty good self-awareness.  I know when I'm lacking and in what areas, and I try to better myself.  Typically, I don't need to be told these things by my husband, or mother, or father, or sister, or my kids.  And, for that self-awareness, I thank my parents, who let us solve our own problems, who didn't over-indulge us, who SHOWED us they loved us with acitons not things, who taught us you deserve nothing without hardwork and determination, and even then nothing is gauranteed, who always led from an example and not just words, and instilled their morals and values into us by their examples. 

Thank you!  I hope to be half the parents you are.  I think I'll be successful, even then.

Happy, healthy, contributing members to society...that's all I can hope for.