A Shock to the System

A friend had a heart attack. I learned about it from my husband. In this day in age, I respect her considerable ability to keep the news off Facebook. I monitor the stream of overshare and contribute not infrequently myself. It would be incredibly hard to not post the stream of conscious did-not-see-this-coming status update from the hospital bed before even beginning to appreciate what was happening.

Last night, almost two months after The Event, the news went public. Attempting to process all that has happened, she started writing a blog. It was the first time a number of people had heard the news. I read the shock in their posts. I imagined what it would be like to read that on Facebook for the first time, not knowing. Shock is a very appropriate reaction.

Tonight I read her blog. From beginning to now. I entered her story. The words formed a voice and I was pulled in. For a few brief moments, I was recovering from a massive heart attack. I was reconsidering my life and waiting. What does this mean? How has everything changed? I was living in a body which was no longer willing to keep up with my spirit. My spirit was looking at what it had wrought and sobbing.

On one hand, I am alive. That needs to be enough. In this time and space it has to be enough. I have to embrace life and love it with all I have. The intensity with which I've lived has taken a toll. But now, that intensity has to be turned around. Can you take care with intense tenderness? Can I relax passionately?

Mourning what I've lost, I emerge from the last post. I look into my husband's eyes as the tears fall freely now. I choke out one statement.

"I don't want it to happen to me."

On one hand this shouldn't be about me. My friend is going through something I wouldn't wish on anyone. Her life is hard enough without me sucking energy from the room. Earlier this week I read an editorial which suggested that the person experiencing a tragedy is the only one with allowance to complain freely. I am not that person.

In every word I read, the picture of a person in love with life is painted. To live a life like that, you give until it hurts. I know how that works. Somedays there is nothing left. Against any odds, you succeed. Failure is a stepping stone and you rise to every challenge it offers. But how do you rise to a challenge brought on by your own tenacity?

This is not my story. She is not me. But, in reading the beginning of her current story, I wonder what lesson the world wants me to learn right now. Do I go to the gym tomorrow morning? Do I leave off that 4th coffee in the late afternoon? Do I reconsider my workload? Do I get down on the floor and play with my kids for a little more often?

With every step, we redefine our lives. Choose your fate. What is my first step on a path that is not mine? First I remind myself - you are NOT her. Second, I send up a prayer and a wish that she makes peace with her situation and heals her heart. Thirdly, I take what she has offered me. A reminder to tuck in my tank. Be thankful for each and every day.  I can't know that it won't happen to me.

Growing up

Dear Inchie,

Last year passed and I never managed to write you a letter.  You were still so small and I didn't know you all that well yet.  I couldn't figure out what to say.  What I wanted to you know about this time in your life.  Or about this time in mine.

We've both grown up a lot this year.  Being in my 30s when you were born implies that I'd already done my growing up, but you'll come to learn that growing up can happen any time, any place.  It can take you by surprise.  Until you came along, I'm not sure I knew I had more growing up to do.

Bringing you into this world involved a leap of faith for me.  Faith in myself I didn't have before.  I took control of my health and owned it for the first time in my life.  Since then I've continued to grow stronger and more confident.  As I watch you explore the world, I push harder to keep up, to be ready.  Someday you are going to venture beyond my reach, but I want to support you with years of adventures before that day comes.

Singing and dancing occupy a large portion of your day.  Even before you learned to shape the words, you would babble along in tune to whatever you heard.  And now that the words come more easily, I'm often serenaded by Twinkle Twinkle or Frere Jacques.  Music seems to light you up and it's a joy to see.

You are also cuddle monster, giving amazing hugs with your whole body.  I love being greeted at pickup time by a smiling little girl, arms wide welcoming me home from work.  Then you wrap me up, head on my shoulder, hands patting my shoulders.  The whole world slides away and I'm left feeling content and cherished.  I pray you feel that same love pouring out of me. 


This year you've taken the Lego obsession in our house and made it your own.  Where we once built houses, you are making castles.  You build block towers as high as you can reach and then go to find a stool to you can make it even higher.  Once your masterpiece is complete, I love to hear your giggles as you tear it all down to start again another day.  When you're not building towers, you're taking care of your babies.  Feeding them, putting them to sleep, taking them on adventures around the living room.  It's seldom you aren't seen with a friend long for the fun.

While you are tucking in your dolls and building towers, I'm watching - hoping to learn and nurture what excites you in this world.  You mimic so closely everything your big sister does, I struggle to remember that you are your own person who has a unique future in front of you.  Please keep reminding me of that as you grow.  Don't ever let me send you down a path simply because your sister's feet carried her that way.


The coming year will bring many challenges, but I hope with you I can remember that every challenge is one more adventure we get to have together.  I plan to continue growing as I know that you will.  I love where we've been together so far.  Thank you for taking me along for the ride.

Love, Mommy

My little Eye Opener

Me: "Here's your allowance."  Hands 4 quarters to my three year old.

Bean: "Mommy, I want to give this quarter to the children in Haiti."

Me: "What, honey?"

Bean: "I want to give money to the children in Haiti who don't have mommies and daddies."

When she turned 3, Bean started attending Sunday school.  At that time we started giving her an allowance.  She has two banks on her dresser, one for spending and one for saving.  Then she has an envelope in which to put her Sunday school offering.  We told her that she needs to put one quarter in each bank: Saving, Spending and Giving.  She can choose where she would like the 4th quarter to go.  Usually she puts it in her Sunday school envelope.

This Sunday, she gave it to the Haitian children she's heard us talk about.

I am humbled by the awesome heart in my little girl.  She hears the things we talk about and works out a way to help.  The quarter may not make a dent in the need, but her giving spirit is inspiring.  To be so open to help, and to give whatever she has to give, prompts me to find ways to give more.  I'm touched by her actions and pray that she holds onto that loving nature as long as she can.  I hope I can help her learn to protect it without stomping it out.  I pray that I can be more open and giving of myself.

Many years from now I hope to have retained this memory.  I hope to share it with her and let her know the effect she had on me.  I hope to teach her that we effect the world around us in good and bad ways.  If we work hard and are true to our hearts, the good ways will grow and multiply.  The world will be a better place simply because we gave our best to make it better.

Wordless Wednesdays

A Healthy Dose of Sunshine

Today was perfect.

Normally perfect is a word I avoid.  There's too much pressure there, but today...  Today really was perfect.  I want to remember today.

Day Care was closed today.  As my husband covered Good Friday, I got approval to be home today.  I can't say I was happy about it.  I don't always (some might say often) handle schedule disruptions with grace.  This was no exception.  But stay home I did.

This morning I woke up with the girls.  We wished Ray a happy work day and then set off to figure out our own plans.  Breakfast.  T-ball in the back yard.  Clean up the swing set.  Run a few errands.  Lunch at Chick-fil-A. Visit the library.  Run just one more errand.  Go to the park.  Nothing spectacular happened.  We went from thing to thing.  There was bickering and coercing.  I even drew attention at the library when I yelped after Inchie BIT me.  Apparently, they don't hear grown women yelp all that often.

The funny thing about nothing spectacular happening?  We had a genuinely great day.  It snuck up on me.  I was sitting in the park eating snack with the girls.  The sun was warm on my neck, but I'd even remembered to bring and apply the sun screen.  Milk was being consumed through chocolate straws.  On this beautiful day, we sat together on a park bench without another soul around.

While this was my favorite moment, it took the whole day for me to appreciate it.  Time with the girls, doing things they love to do, together.  For about 45 minutes, I was completely at peace.

Bedtime Experiment

My kids are hilarious.  To me.  Our lives might be a bit more orderly if I didn't find them quite so funny.  It's very hard to discipline a child when you can't stop laughing over the way that they just deviated from your instruction.  One such moment happened last night.  Warning - this has to do with bodily functions.

Bean still wears pullups to bed.  She's only 3 so this isn't a big deal.  What is a big deal is that she is keeping the pullups dry each night.  I've promised her that when she stays dry for 7 nights in a row, she can go to bed in panties.  Woohoo milestone!  Double Woohoo no more buying $40 boxes of pullups!

Anyway, last night I put a waterproof sheet on Bean's bed, telling her it was in case she had an accident when she starts sleeping without her pullup.  She doesn't question this or even get excited.  I don't think again about it.  Until five minutes after she's tucked in.

Bean: "Mommy, that new sheet you put on my bed doesn't work."

Me: "What do you mean it doesn't work?" as I head into her room thinking the sheet had gotten loose and was folded and uncomfortable or something.

Bean: "It doesn't dry up pee pee."

Me: "Did you pee in your pullup?"

Bean: "I had an accident.  The sheet didn't dry it up."

Me: Shakes head in exasperation and wonders at my child's use of the scientific method.

Little Monster.

I'm in so much trouble.  When I decided I wanted to be a Mom, I imagined these independent, clever children.  They would play on their own whiling away the hours until they needed a hug from Mom just to reinforce their awesomeness.  That magical hug would happen and they would joyfully go on with whatever pursuit they had imagined for themselves.

I know.  Dreams.  *sigh*

Somewhere along the way I also took it for granted that they would somehow understand feelings and be empathetic little creatures.  I can't even claim to have dreamt that one up.  It's too far fetched for even my dream state.  I tend to stick to dreams of waking up to a quiet house on Saturday morning or a million dollars being given to me by a long lost but very rich uncle.

Lately Bean has been carrying my lunch box into the house.  She likes that is purple and she loves 'helping' mommy.  Yesterday I got her out of the car, handed her my lunch box and went around to get Inchie.  I took it for granted that the lunch box would make it into the house unscathed.

Moments later the lunch box is getting kicked down the stair and around the driveway.  I'm pretty sure I growled calmly asked Bean to pick it up and carry it into the house.  I might have tacked a NOW onto the end of my request.  Somewhere in there threats of staying home while Inchie went trick or treating might have come out of my mouth.  In the moments after day care pickup, can Mom really be held accountable for all that she says?

Bean's brain kicks into the gear (or the threats worked, who knows) and she comes down and snatches up the lunch box.  As she head up the stairs she shouts over her shoulder, "Does this make you happy Mom?"

*sigh*

I'm getting sassed by my three year old.  Not just sassed but cut to the quick!  Time spent attempt to teach her empathy is turned back against me in a flash.  If she can do this at age three, what power will she weld at age thirteen?

A Break from the Norm

Today is day 3 of my re-entry.  I'm over caffeinated, over tired and more than a little annoyed that time won't slow down and let me recover.  But more than that, I'm grateful for what came before.  The re-entry hurts, but to have never left would have been worse.

Six days ago, I boarded a plane to New Orleans.

By myself.

Without my children.

For completely selfish and personal reasons.

For the first time since I found out I was going to be a Mom, I took an extended break.  The Manic Mommies had organized their 5th annual Escape and I signed up.  Three days Two nights in New Orleans, sleeping in a posh hotel, eating meals requiring no planning on my part and experiencing life at my own pace.

Wow.

There were a few minutes where I didn't want to come back.  I missed my girls and my husband, but I also knew how re-entry would feel.  Leaving it all behind for just a few days makes the crush of everyday life feel almost debilitating.  But I'll adjust and I'll do it with a memory of how I'd like to feel more often.  A little less rushed and a little more present.  Experiencing this moment before worrying about the next.  Just a bit of added perspective to make the norm seem not so inevitable.

The things is...  I can slow down.  Life is fast and kids are demanding.  Then life is demanding and kids grow fast.  But it is up to me to put the brakes on from time to time and really relish the moments I'm living in.

My plane landed as my husband put my children to bed Sunday night.  I returned home to a cuddly husband, friends in my basement and a football game on TV.  For just a few more moments I enjoyed a slower pace and some quality time with people I love.   The break was good.

Three Years.

Smooth sailing is not one of the ways I would describe my first year with Bean.  She was healthy and happy, but motherhood just didn't click for me.  The first few months were a blur as she and I recovered from pregnancy and delivery.  I read books and made baby food and kept nursing long after it began making me miserable.  I was striving to make the right decisions for her and find confidence in my abilities as her mom.  She grew more independent and I began feeling more comfortable.

The day she turned one I had to take half a day of paid leave.  Of all the milestones she passed, her first birthday was not the one I expected to knock the air out of my lungs.  I looked into her smiling eyes and loved her so much it just about broke my heart.  I dropped her off at day care that morning with  my husband.  As I headed back to the car, I sobbed.  Our relationship had changed when I wasn't looking.  I was deeply in love with that little girl.

Now she is three years old.

I love her so much it still makes me cry on occasion.  While moments of doubt and disconnect still plague me, I love being her mom.  Her interest in the world reinvents it for me everyday.  She is the single most infuriating person in the world because I see so much creativity in her defiance.  From determining common words are pronounced a new and interesting way to following instruction at the very edge of disobedience, she's fascinating.  When I'm not watching, her wit and humor still sneak up on me and take my breath away.

With Inchie's arrival on the scene, this year hasn't been easy on my three year old.  But she's hung in there and made the best of it all.  Especially getting to enjoy double toys while Inchie is still too young to fight back.  Those days are coming and part of me (the totally crazy part) is really looking forward to seeing how it all unfolds.

But for now, Bean is three.  I've loved the past three years and hope to savor what ever comes next for us.  I love you little girl.  I love you to the ends of the universe.

Blessing in Disguise.

The evening started out so well.  Spirits were high as we pulled away from day care and prepared for a girls' night at home.  Dinner went smoothly, slightly rigged by serving pizza and strawberries.  Outside time was cut short after a monster spider took over the swing set.  Without my husband to wrangle it, Bean and I readily surrendered and backed away slowly with Inchie in my arms.  Several fits and timeouts later everyone was bathed and in bed.  I was dreaming of spending a few sweet hours in my basement, dealing with Project Office, catching up on my reading, watching re-runs of Buffy in the background.

Bean had other plans.

7:50pm "Mommy I need to go potty."
7:55pm "I like your book."
8:03pm "A mosquito bit my cheek."
8:04pm "My hand hurts."
8:10pm "Whatcha reading?"
8:11pm "I need a drink of water."
8:12pm "I need a drink of water because my cheek hurts."
8:13pm "I need a drink of water because my hand hurts."
*fake coughing fit heard in the distance*
8:14pm "I need a drink of water because I am coughing." *cough* *cough*
8:20pm "I have a book."
8:23pm "Mommy, may I read with you?"
8:25pm "I really need a sip of water."
8:30pm "Just one sip, Mommy."
8:45pm "Hehee."
8:47pm "I WANT DADDY!"
8:49pm "Hehee."
8:56pm drags pillow into the living room and lays down on the floor
8:58pm drags blanket into the living room and lays down on the floor
9pm "Hehee." and runs back to bed
9:10pm "Mommy, your book is pretty."
9:13pm "I still a sip of water."
9:20pm "Hehee."
9:27pm quietly sits in rocking chair and stars at me.
9:28pm runs back to room as my feet hit the ground.
9:30pm "Hehee.:

Mommy lays down with Bean.

9:32pm Bean falls asleep.

And Mommy thanks God for giving her a moment with her 2 year old asleep in her arms.

I love cuddly sleeping babies.  I don't have cuddly babies particularly when they are sleepy.  Beyond the first two months, my kids have slept in their own beds each night and I've slept in mine.  But tonight Bean fell asleep with her head on my shoulder and her hand stroking my fingers as she fell asleep.  I laid there for 15 minutes loving the relaxed little girl snoring in my arms.  Oh how I love that little girl.