Posted in parenting

Halloween 2017

My 5 year old had her heart set on a Halloween costume that she found in a catalog chock full of high end costumes that she had discovered from my mom’s house.  The costume was a leopard with all the fanciness you can handle with a full twirly black skirt, faux fur gloves to the elbow, and  spotted ears. Of course, it cost a small fortune. I dare wager a kidney transplant might be cheaper. I kicked my honed parenting skills into high gear and attempted a persuasion technique where I could distract her by finding a much cheaper version of pretty much the same costume. I’m dealing with a five year old, this shouldn’t be hard.

I failed.

No other leopard costume that we searched out would suffice. It had to be this one and only this one. I might have to take out a loan, but by gosh this was the costume.  I dragged my feet for a couple of days. By the time I logged back in to place the order, lo and behold, it was sold out.

What to do, what to do? Surely another costume will work since there’s just no way around this problem, so I tried my persuasion technique again, searching the inter web high and low for suitable substitutions to no avail. I was only greeted with crocodile tears and a stubborn streak a mile wide. Nothing else would do. No other costume on the planet was as good as that one. She only ever wanted to be this leopard. Only this one with the full twirly black skirt, faux fur gloves to the elbow, and  spotted ears. So I did everything in my power.

I contacted the company: Will you be getting item #34756389 in stock in a size 5 before Halloween?
The answer was no.

What to do? What to do? She would just have to face the music. The costume was not to be had. Disappointments are part of life, she had better learn to deal with them now, right? When she was told we would have to find another costume, more tears ensued.
At this point, I was a bit exasperated. I advanced my parenting skills from persuasion to guilt. It sounded something like, Do you have any idea how ungrateful you’re being? Do you know there are children out there who would love to get a new costume? Or to even get to go trick or treating?  To dress up as anything even remotely interesting? And here you are, with a play room full of princess dresses, and various and a sundry other accessories and yet all you want is this one and only danged old leopard costume. Do you see how spoiled your acting? 

Tears and more tears. No other costume would do, it was decided. It was this costume. It had to be this costume. The one that was sold out and wasn’t coming back.
What to do, what to do? I’m no rookie. At this point, I upped my ante of parenting skills and decided to throw in a little reverse psychology. It sounded something like, Well then fine, you can just not go trick or treating. You can just stay home and hand out candy.

This technique blew up right in my face when through her big old tears, she said that was just fine with her.

I should have quit right there. I should have waved the white flag. But she comes by her stubborn streak honestly. I couldn’t in good conscience allow her to stay home and not trick or treat when she is only five years old! They grow up so fast. Trick or treating and costumes are such a blink in time. The mommy guilt reared it’s ugly head full force. I took a deep breath, let some days pass, and suggested we should look on Pinterest for a costume idea. Good ol’ Pinterest. She agreed to this idea. We pulled up Halloween costumes and she found one she wanted. The Poop Emoji.

Yes, poop. My dear little, beautiful, darling daughter wanted to dress up as a pile of crap. I said how about a smiley? How about a winkie face? How about a unicorn? No. None of those would do. It was this costume. It had to be this costume. It had to be a poop emoji.

It took some doing, but we got it done. A shirt, a little brown tulle, and wa-lah! She was the gosh darned cutest turd I’ve ever seen. She won second place in her school’s costume contest for most original Costume and she was a hit among those who were savvy enough to know what she was. We trunk or treated and trick or treated until she said she’d had enough. We turned on the light and she handed out candy for a few straggling kids.

I held her in my lap when the day was done, candy wrappers strewn, costume in a wad on the floor, chocolate on her face. You’ve had a good day. I told her. You had a great costume too. And wasn’t it better than that danged old Leopard costume?

She looked at me and said, “I had forgotten all about that!!”

That’s when I cried.  Tears and more tears.

She’s already decided on next year’s costume. And it’s not a dangled old Leopard either.  So make sure you stop by my house, because after this experience, this little turd will be home handing out candy.

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Posted in Family, parenting

1 year down, 13 more to go

My baby girl, my only child has completed her Pre-K year. I couldn’t be more proud of her.

I know, I know, it’s a little silly when you think about being proud of completing pre-k, right? It’s not like she wrote research papers or received an associate degree while taking high school classes or worked a part-time job and maintained the A Honor Roll, or that she’s off to some Ivy League School. Like what did she really do that I should be so proud? Well, I’ll tell you what she did first and foremost. She blossomed! She blossomed and learned in so many different areas! That’s why I’m proud.

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Just look at those pictures!  Just look at them.

You might not be able to tell, but she grew an inch and gained 5 pounds too!

The little buttercup went from being mostly shy and timid to outgoing and confident. Granted, she still gets a little nervous talking to people, but at least she’s not hiding behind my legs anymore. As much, anyway.  That’s why I’m proud.

Of course she learned lots of academic type of things. She can read several words and a few little books, she has great number sense, and a lot of common sense as well. She tries her best at everything she does and wants to succeed. She is responsible and superb! That’s why I’m proud.

She also did big 5-year-old things this year, like learning to tie her shoes and fix her own hair, which might look a fright most of the time, but she does it herself and her independence and self-confidence is more important in the big scheme of things than a perfect hair-do.  She also decided that she can put herself to bed and sleep alone. But every 4th night, I can still sleep with her. She’s growing up independent and confident. That’s why I’m proud.

She worked so hard in both her dance and gymnastics classes and more importantly had fun doing it. She can swing herself on the swings with just one push to get her started, and cross the monkey bars by herself. She is learning that hard work pays off and  practice does make almost-perfect. She is learning that things may be hard at first, but not to give up, keep on trying and eventually you’ll get there. That’s why I’m proud.

She is good and kind and thoughtful which is the most important aspects I would like her to develop in her years of learning.  I want her to know that it is better to be a friend to someone who needs one, than to fit in with the “in-crowd”. I want her to know that not everything is going to come easy, but she’ll never be disappointed in herself for knowing she gave it her all. She learned more this year of the important stuff than she might learn her entire academic career. Her foundation is laid.

These next 13 years are going to fly by. I know that all too well. It may be that some day she’ll be off to an Ivy League School, or maybe she’ll backpack across Europe. As long as she stays true to herself and discovers happiness in her journeys is my heart’s desire for her. It may seem silly to you that I write these milestones down, but I know my memories won’t always be as clear and I want to remember it all: every little accomplishment, every single stepping stone on her path to wherever she is heading.

She is such a joy, and I am so very proud to call her mine.

 

Posted in Family, life, Love, parenting

Mother’s Day #5

I’m a bit of a creature of habit. Just a bit. Not too much. Only when I want to be, really. But I do have a little tradition of blogging on certain celebratory occasions. My daughter’s b-day and Mother’s Day are the only 2 I really think of right now. Most of the time, this little blog is a ball of random. When the whim hits. Which hasn’t been hitting much lately.

Sunday past was Mother’s Day. My fifth one.  I’m not sure words can describe motherhood. There have been many people who have tried to put the words down, including myself. I think one of the best I’ve ever read is: #motherhood:

How true.

Motherhood is complete sacrifice, even when you adore pie.
Motherhood is seeing the tiniest, most minuscule, grain-of-sand-sized love God has for us.
Motherhood is a heart that is both broken and full to bursting often at the same time.
Motherhood is worry.
Motherhood is joy.
Motherhood is an exhaustion beyond what you ever thought possible.
Motherhood is sticky fingers and sweet kisses.
Motherhood is a million “I love yous” and a few teenage “I hate yous”.
Motherhood is handmade cards.
Motherhood is lots of laughs and plenty of tears from all parties involved.
Motherhood is eating lots of spaghetti.
Motherhood is late nights and early mornings and feet in your ribs when sleep does come.
Motherhood is thankless mostly, but worth every moment.

This Mother’s Day I was showered with little gifts. Gifts that will be put away in the bin with the other sweet gifts I’ve been given and the ones hopefully to come.

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18447353_10213478050932513_4614352799574924184_nEach moment is a true gift. A treasure to hold. Time passes so quickly. For some, motherhood never happens or sadly ends too soon.

My little daughter came into my life unexpectedly and the emotions I went through were paramount.  We are tight. This girl and I. We have a bond right now that I hope will outlast all the growing pains we still have to endure. The past five years have flown by, and I know the next 13 will zip past. And then she’ll soar on the wings that her dad and I have hopefully helped give her. So for now, I cherish every Eskimo kiss, every hug, every stick figure drawing stuck to the fridge, and even every melt down.

Every beautiful moment of motherhood for the past five years I have tried to store away, either in my memories or in this blog. I have been given such a remarkable little girl and I am so honored to be her mom.

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Posted in Children, Family, life, Love, parenting

A Daughter’s Love

Last night, way past a normal bedtime for a 5 year old, my little EK and I were snuggling in. Saying our prayers and our I love yous. When suddenly she said, “I’m probably going to forget you when I grow up.” Why, I asked. Why would you forget me? She answered because she would be all grown up. I tried to explain to her that girls don’t forget their mothers, while believing this with all my heart, but also hopefully convincing her that she wouldn’t forget me, that she couldn’t forget me. My momma heart felt a moment of fear and heartache at the thought that my time with her was limited, that some day it would end. Which of course it will, but not by forgetting. Never by forgetting.

In my convincing, I tried to explain in the best way I could that I’m all grown up and I haven’t forgotten my mom and even my mom hasn’t forgotten her mom. And I desperately explained how when she was all grown up we would talk on the phone and visit one another if she moved away. That we could text on cell phones and take trips together. My mind was a flurry of all the grown up things we will do. In my vision, I was hanging on to her grown up self by a thread, knowing that it could so easily snap in an instant with her own life, her husband, her family, her busyness.

We were lying on our sides in an embrace, our noses practically touching. She said if she lived next door, I could just come over and visit. That thought gave me some relief. Yes, next door. That sounds wonderful. Then I said what all mom’s say at some time to their sweet preschoolers, yet to become tumultuous, unruly teenagers. “And you don’t ever have to move out, anyway. You can live with me forever.” I’m sure some day I will try to cram these words back down my throat, claiming I’ve never uttered them. But for now, the thought of her leaving, even to live next door is more than I can handle.

Then that sweet girl, with her big brown eyes, and her little mind that works all the time said. “And when you die, I’ll bury you in my front yard, so I can visit you all the time.”

I didn’t even know how to react to this. It is at the same time both very loving and yet bizarrely disturbing. So we said our good nights and our I love yous and I realized once again how immense love is.

 

Posted in Children, Family, parenting

A Letter To My Daughter On Her 5th Birthday

img_3166I can’t help but wonder if all mothers cry when their baby turns five years old? As soon as my eyes opened, I began to think of you. Not that that’s anything new. You are always the first thought to cross my mind. And as a sidenote, you will always be the first thought to cross my mind, no matter how old you are, no matter how far from me you travel.  I think Willie Nelson sang a song along those same lines.

I couldn’t stop the tears this morning. And all through the day, I’ve fought to keep them at bay.

Five years. Five beautiful, wonderful years. They have been the most precious, most blessed times of my life. And that is saying quite a lot, sweet Emma Kate, because my life has been pretty marvelous. But when you entered the world, it went to a brand new level.

I don’t know the answers to all life’s questions. I certainly don’t know much at all. But I know that you have allowed me and taught me to love in a way that never seemed possible. Sure, we have our ups and downs. Life isn’t always a bowl of cherries, but when you step back and look at the big picture, there’s definitely more ups than downs and more cherries than pits in our bowl.

You are such a good kid. You are so smart. I have written to you for the first 12 months of your life, and then every year after that. Someday, I will print these out for you to keep and reflect back on. Reading back through, you will know how absolutely, infinitely loved and adored you are.

You have a great memory. You love to play a game with you daddy and I, especially on car rides, called “Remember when…..”. You usually start and say, “remember when we…” and you’ll fill in the blank. Then we all take turns giving our own remember whens. Sometimes, we all remember, and sometimes we don’t. Sometimes, I’m purely amazed at the things you remember from long, long ago. It’s also kind of sad when you don’t remember something that was pretty epic, so that’s one reason I write it down.

Because one day, my little lovebird, all you will be left with will be your memories. I want you to have good ones. Me and your dad are trying our hardest to give you an amazing childhood, but at the same time, being careful not to turn you into a brat. It’s a thin line to cross. Because sometimes giving your child everything is not the best, and someday you’ll understand that. It’s not about all the “things and stuff” in life, not the newest and greets, because those things always turn not so new, and not so great.

It’s about the “remember whens”. It’s about playing hide and go seek in the dark. It’s about birthday parties with family and friends, and adventures in the woods building forts, and hiking trails, and picking wildflowers. It’s about making play dough and playing dolls. It’s about lying in the yard and looking at the shapes in the clouds, or the stars at night. It’s about snuggles at bedtime and rocking chair time every morning with a blanket and chocolate milk and a warm,drowsy head on my chest. It’s about fishing at the lake, and swimming in a horse trough. It’s about dance parties through the house when our favorite song comes on, and sharing books together. It’s all the “remember when’s” that are too many to list.

It’s all about the time we’ve shared and the memories we’ve made.

You are growing into a great young girl. You are no longer an infant, no longer a baby, no longer a toddler, and pretty soon, you’ll no longer be a preschooler. You have learned so much. Most of your days are spent at St. Matthew’s where you’ve already learned to read 100 sight words. You are my little reader, but I always knew you would be. You understand numbers and how to put them together and take them apart. You also have a whole lot of dang common sense. You are practically perfect in every way. Much like Mary Poppins, huh?

Thank you Emma Kate for these last 5 years. They have been beyond my wildest imagination. I am so happy you’re mine. Someone posted on Facebook about you, that “God said ta-da”, and I think that sums it up perfectly. I love you oodles and gobs, and more, and more, and more.

Happy Birthday, my baby.

XOXO,

Mommy

 

Posted in Dear Diary, Faith, Family

What happened when I quit Facebook

I quit facebook.  It was huge for me.  I think either today, tomorrow, or the next day marks two weeks.  Two weeks!

I don’t even know why I did it, except that somewhere in the past few years, months, weeks, or days, when it happened I’m not sure, but at some point, I kind of lost myself.  It’s not face book’s fault, but just a combination of my choices.  Maybe it’s never happened to you, but I got to the point where I just found myself sick to death of everything, including myself.  So I pulled the plug.  I can’t pretend it wasn’t hard.  Within moments my mind was racing with pathetic thoughts. The first thing I worried about was that if I died, while not on Facebook, no one would be able to visit my wall to eulogize me and tell my loved ones how much they missed me.  Or give a nice story.  Or even know I died at all.  That thought process right there may be indicative of the health of my mind at the time.

The next thought, after the death one, was that my sister’s birthday was coming up in a couple of days and just how was I going to handle that?  Usually it was an ol’ happy bd fb post, but now I would need an alternate method.  To the card store I went.   It got me thinking that I didn’t receive one card in the mail on my previous birthday, except from Bealls, the local department store, with a friendly $10 gift to use toward my purchase.  I may not have received a card for my birthday, but I know I probably got more than a hundred fb messages.  What is that saying about us as people?  Anything at all?  Sending cards will soon be filed away in the same archaic vault as sending a lock of hair to a loved one.  I almost sent one to my sister, just for old times sake.

Then over the next few days of my fb fast, I would catch myself thinking “I should put that on Facebook”.  Or wondering about certain people who I only kept in contact with through that venue.  It was comparable to a grieving process, how for a brief moment you  pick up the phone to call your mom or your dad, only to remember they’re no longer living.  But as the days passed, it became easier and better.  I haven’t really missed it.  Except maybe, a little.

I did want to post Ashlynn’s first day of 10th grade, so here it is:

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Isn’t she lovely?  This was the day after she was released from the hospital with yet another stomach blockage due to adhesions.  It had been a while since we have had to deal with this, and it was downright scary. She spent three days in there feeling terribly.  Normally, I would have been straight on fb for prayer, because it is a great avenue for that.  My sister kept the Facebook world updated and many prayers came for healing and I am much appreciative. I know her healing is from God and I know the many prayers of friends and family reached the heavens.

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Friends helped keep her spirits up.  She developed a nasty cough right afterwards, but about has that whipped now too and is on to smooth sailing.

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So here it is nearly September, and we are squeezing the last drops out of summer as we can.  We went and took Emma out on a paddle boat the other day and found ourselves way too far out with just a few minutes to get back.  Our thighs were burning trying to get back to the dock in time.  Emma was crying in the beginning, she is such a cautious child and really tends to get anxious at new things, but she was all smiles in no time.  A package of m&m’s might have helped.

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She’s a full blooded two and a half year old now and keeps me laughing.  She’s so good and a true blessing and joy in all of our lives. I really need to write down more of what she says because they’re just so darn funny.

All in all, since my fb sabbatical (and my deletion of all other social media, save pinterest and words with friends) I am feeling much more light hearted.  I’m finding my focus, which primarily should be on the people who live under my roof.  Other than that, each day is just a repeat of the previous.  Sometimes it’s drudgery, sometimes it’s chaos, but there is always beauty to be found when I pause long enough to look around.

The big things are still the same:  I’m still trying to find my purpose in life and  still trying to grow my bangs out, both of which might take to the end of my days.  And in the event the end of my days might come, you might have to go to the card store to send a condolence.  Go ahead and stick a lock of hair in their too, okay, just for old times sake.

 

 

Posted in Family, Uncategorized

Hiking the PCT

I woke up this morning moaning.

The first thing that came into my mind was, “oh my neck, oh my back.  Oh my neck and my back”.

It’s nothing more than a mass of knots and pain.  Caused from carrying EK on my back yesterday on a hike in the woods, you know in one of those backpacks that holds kids.

This one to be exact.

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You see, I read a book called Wild, by Cheryl Strayed and it’s kind of sent me into a frenzy.  I can’t explain it.  The book is a memoir about a lady who hiked the Pacific Coast Trail by herself.  If you’re not familiar with the PCT, like I was, it is a stretch that runs from Mexico to Canada, through California, Oregon, and Washington.  It took her three months, carrying everything she needed to survive on her back, living, eating, sleeping, and pooping in the wilderness.  All alone.  A switch went off in my brain.  A desire to do the same.

Then a flash of reality went off in my brain reminding me I am 1) married 2) a mother 3) nearly forty 4)  smarter than that.

So me and my brain, we compromised.  I may not be able to hike the PCT, but I can go hike in the woods around me, my own personal PCT known as Perk Canyon Trail.  So me and EK decided to do just that.

I strapped her on my back and we headed up.

About 14 steps up a very easy trail, I questioned my decision.  It wasn’t easy.

It proved to actually be pretty hard.  And I was reminded of a poster that hung in the Dyslexic teacher’s classroom at my former school.  In big bold letters it read, WE CAN DO HARD THINGS.

I can do hard things, I kept telling myself.

In the book, Strayed keeps mentioning the weight of her pack was heavier than most backpackers.  She never said the weight, but said it was at least half of what she weighed.   I’m figuring an average 26 year old lady at about 120-130 pounds, so she’s probably carrying at least 60 pounds.  Me, on the other hand, I’m carrying probably 25–30.  And it ain’t easy for me.

A little ways up the trail, the air became a little nippy, so I stopped at a log to remove EK and put her jacket on her.  It was a welcome relief.  She then wanted to walk a little ways, and I was glad to have to only carry the pack without the added 22 pounds.

It is a real joy watching her exploring the woods, considering how she’s gonna cross this bride.

With mama’s helping hand of course.

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Even getting off of logs proved to be a challenge.

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Of course she had to stop and tie her “untie able” shoes after watching me tie mine, since she had been the one to bend over and untie mine, of course.

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Later, I strapped her back in and we continued on.  The leaves this time of year are remarkable.  The colors are vibrant, although pictures don’t really do them justice.

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The silence surrounds you.  The only sounds are the crunching of your feet, the occasional call of a bird or flutter of their wings, and the rush of the water in the nearby stream falling over the rocks.

Eventually, EK fell asleep, her head bumping into mine, forbidding her to get a good sound rest.  She finally laid her head against mine, pushing my neck forward, causing the tension in my upper back to increase.  I lifted up on the pack, adjusting it, trying to relieve some discomfort without disturbing her, but it was only temporary.

It was a great time.  It wasn’t the PCT.   Thank goodness.  It wasn’t 3 months but only shy of 3 hours.   But it was enough.

If my back didn’t hurt so badly today, we might even do it again.  Maybe.

I hope EK learns to love nature.  There is just something about it.  Something everyone should experience.  We need to escape this modern world every now and again, and find solace in the wild.

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And sometimes, we need to trade in our hiking shoes for some heels.

There’s nothing wrong with that.

****The youngest to hike the real PCT was 9 years old.  Something to think about.