Independence

I can't decide if today's beautiful thing is really a good thing or not.

That's not entirely true.  I know it's a good thing... I'm just not sure I like it that much right now.

See what you think.

Today I participated in the rare class party for one of my daughters.  I'm not saying the parties are rare, I'm saying my participation in them is rare.  I am not the mom who is in the classroom each week helping in the library or with math stuff or walking track or anything like that.  Not that being that mom is a bad thing.  I'm sure I should help out more.  But when the list is passed around at Back to School Night and all the slots are filled, I do sigh with relief.

But the call went out for help with an Amazing Race type Halloween party for 4th graders and I thought, "Now that's the type of party I can help with.  No 25 kids stuck in a room sucking down sugar at an alarming rate.  Fresh air.  Games.  All good."  (Not to mention that the last class party I helped with, I got thrown up at - not on, thank goodness!).

I kept my participation a secret from my daughter.  I thought she'd enjoy the surprise.  But I'm pretty sure the 3 yr old gave it away.  So I show up expecting a look of shock and pleasure and a huge hug... and I got a wave.  From across the room.  Oh, and a half smile.

So the party commenced and she did her part in the race.  And did not even say "Hi" to me when she was at my station.

Then they all went into the classroom to decorate a cookie.

Still no acknowledgement of my presence.  (At least she gave the 3 yr old a chocolate chip.)

Ahhhhh, independence.  I guess this is what I am here for - to train her up to be an independent person who does not need to rely on her mother.  And she is that - already - at 9.

I know it will serve her well as she gets older.  She will be brave enough to go to that college away from friends, or travel alone, or take that job in another country.  She will not need to rely on a man to define who she is, or friends to do the same.

She will be her own person - independent (and confident).

And that truly is a beautiful thing.  But right now the thought of it hurts a bit.

Coming Home

How can a door hold so much power?  Not just any door, but one particular door... the one you walk through that means you're home.

Last night, I had a great time with my book club.  We're a rowdy group, made up mostly of recent transplants... and me - the local.  We laugh so much that I don't need an ab workout for days (not that I participate in that sort of thing anyway).  And we drink copious amounts of wine.  And we share strange secrets and motherly struggles and marital frustrations.

We eat more than we should... and there is always dessert (last night - a chocolate fountain with Pringles, Twinkies, strawberries and NutterButters - - YUM).

And we end up staying out later than we ever would with our husbands.

So it was at 11:15 that I found myself walking through my kitchen door - to a not-so-clean kitchen.  But it was home, and it felt good.

Which got me to thinking about all the good "home comings" I remember - either from those long trips that you can't wait for and then can't wait to end, or just from a regular day.  When I was in high school, I came home one blustery fall day after cheerleading practice in the rain to find my mother at the stove cooking biscuits and gravy.  And, for some reason, that simple day is one of my favorite "home comings."  I think about it all the time.

This is what I want for my kids.  I want momentous home comings to be great memories, but I also want simple, regular days to be good home comings.  I want that kitchen door to mean something wonderful to them - something they look forward to seeing - whether they realize it or not.

So there - today, I have found the beauty in a boot-kicked, much-in-need-of-a-good-scrub (and some paint) door.

It's the simple things...

Wigging Out

Ok, I know it's been awhile.  Life gets busy... and I spend all day working on a computer...  sometimes I just want to walk away from it.

But I'm feeling computer-refreshed today.  Perhaps not so tied to it.

Anyway, this picture happened just about a month ago when we took out our Halloween decorations.  The girls had a blast swapping wigs and personalities to match (note Ella's 'tude).  They even went to a neighbor pretending to be new to the neighborhood.

It was extreme silliness.  I can't remember the last time I was extremely silly.  Heck, I can't even remember the last time I was remotely silly...

Isn't that the great part of having kids?  They keep silliness in your life.  Because while I may not have been getting silly lately, my kids sure have been.  And I get to experience silliness-by-association.

And here, they got even sillier.
Now I must go find something silly to do...  and so should you.  Maybe it will keep me young...

A Table for Two

This week, John and I celebrated 14 years of marriage.  Doesn't that sound like a lot?  I mean, I still feel like I'm only 22.

And with the way the economy has been, we agreed on forgoing the gift-giving, opting instead for our usual Tuesday night frozen pizza (I work late on Tuesdays teaching ballet).  But the day before our anniversary, he hinted that there was a gift for me... "in the evening."  (And don't we all tend to think men mean only one thing when they say something like that?)

When I arrived home, there was a large sign on the door into the house from the garage.  "Please enter through the front door.  Thank you."

The drapes to the front of the house had been drawn, but I didn't think much about this as my parents had been watching the kids and that's something they would do as it began to get dark.

So I was totally surprised when I opened the front door to find a table for two in our living room, covered in my favorite table cloth from France, awash in candlelight.  Abby, our oldest, stood at the door with a linen napkin over her arm and said, "Your table is ready," gesturing to the table where my husband sat, dressed neatly.

As I sat down, Ella walked in carrying a bottle of wine with the obligatory napkin over her arm.  "Would you care for some wine?  It's an excellent vantage," she said.  John and I hid our giggles as he poured us both a glass of wine.

Shortly, Abby came pack carrying a plate of frozen pizza slices for me and then returned with one for John.

And so we dined by candlelight in our living room on frozen pizza with the girls all giggling around the corner about our "date."

It was the most beautiful date I've ever been on.

"Waitress Wren" brought out the dessert... 6 Oreos on a plate.

I couldn't have been happier.

Chaos Wins

Sometimes, no matter how you look at the chaos and try your hardest to see the best parts of the day, relishing the small moments, chaos wins...

That was yesterday.

The start of the school year has not been easy for me and Wren.  She is lost and lonely without her sisters around (even to fight with) and she is constantly asking me to play or to have a friend over.  She is obsessed with "what's after this sleep" - meaning what are we doing tomorrow.  And on the days when there is nothing planned for after this sleep... (sigh).

I work from home.  My desk is the kitchen counter.  While I like the flexibility, I still need to try to get in my hours.  It's so hard to explain this to a 3 year old.

So yesterday, after packing lunches, fretting about some bills, cleaning up a bottom-of-the-bag Mini Wheats spill, starting some laundry, cleaning the dishes, and sitting down to work, I was a bit frazzled when she pulled up the stool next to me, laid her head in my lap and said, "I wish you didn't have to work, Mommy."

Crushing...

It's not the first time I've heard this from her.  Actually, it's not the first time I've heard it from any of my girls.  But it still gets me.

So I explained why I have to work and tried to get her doing something else, asking her to get dressed for the day.  And then there were tears over what to wear.

The morning went pretty much the same.  Eventually I did get her friend to come play, which did help a bit.

Then my dad showed up in the driveway to pick some things up.

And as he was leaving, he hugged me.  What is it about a daddy's hug that can just undo a daughter sometimes?

But I needed it.  Thanks, Dad.

Speaking in Tongues

It's 7:40 in the evening (and boy, I should NOT have looked at the clock - who knew dust could accumulate on the hands!?) and I am wiped out.

I look forward to the new school year starting about the second week of summer vacation.  The kids are always so bored at home.  But then school starts and I'm in agony.  I think it's like anything that is painful (i.e. childbirth) - you forget the bad parts.

Like getting up early and fighting with kids to get them out the door on time... or running 3 different places between 4:30 and 5:15 just to make sure everyone is where they are supposed to be... or having to make sure dinner is on the table by 6:15 so baths or showers or forgotten homework can be done before bed.

It is with this harried attitude that I set three steaming bowls of Italian Stew in front of three skeptical children tonight.  It is not the first time I've made this, but the people who enjoy it the most are certainly not the children.

"What is this green thing?," was a common question.  Or, "Do I have to eat the beans?"

(sigh)

But we made it through without too much weeping and gnashing of teeth (on their part and mine) - as long as Mom only asked for a trial run on the butter beans and no one had to eat their Lima beans.

And milk was spilled only once.

The real joy is always dessert.  Who doesn't like dessert?!  And since I am the biggest dessert person I know (although some evenings my dessert might be another glass of wine), the kids get it every night.  (Isn't it really the small things that get us through life?)

Ella and Wren chose from their "candy bags" - candy that has been in this house since probably last Halloween.  I wouldn't eat it, but they seem to enjoy it.  Ella is a grab-n-go kind of girl, and within about a minute, she had picked a Snicker fart (bite-size Snicker... and yes, I know "Snicker fart" is not the right terminology, but it's so fitting), a peppermint, and a Jolly Rancher.  Wren is more choosy.  It took forrreeevvvveeeeeerrrrrrrr for her to choose a pixie stick.  Do you remember pixie sticks?  Pure sugar - yum.

And the result?  One blue tongue (pixie stick) and one VERY red tongue (cherry Jolly Rancher).  It truly amuses me how excited my kids get when their tongues turn a strange color.

All four of us were giggling and sticking out our tongues.

And Abby (who choose Peanut Butter Filled Keebler Cookies - yum again!) said, "Maybe I should have another dessert that's green so I can have a green tongue!"

Good try...

Buns are beautiful?

Yesterday, chaos won.

It was one of those days when you keep thinking to yourself, "Is it time for bed, yet?"

Perhaps I set myself up for this the night before.  I was dreading the morning.  It was to be day 3 of school and the first day with both girls taking their lunches.  I imagined battles over which jelly to use and who would get the last pieces of turkey - grapes vs. apples, too little Goldfish, "but I don't LIKE that."  You get the idea. 

But it wasn't at all like that.  The girls were polite to each other - even helpful.  And they both walked out the door happy and smiling...

And that was the last smile I had of the day...

It began when I ran an errand to use the rewards card I received from a certain office supply store.  All I needed was paper.  That's all I ever need.  However, upon presenting my rewards card, I was told the balance was $0.00 - because the card had expired 9 days before (feel free to insert "stinkin'" between each of those words).  All through this exchange, Wren was totally and utterly tempted by the candy bars and chips and gum they display right at her eye level.  And so yes, I snapped at her with that old mom phrase, "If I have to tell you one more time..."  (which never seems to have a conclusion.  Just those words fix the behavior.  But the threat... ohhhh.)

Now, ticked that I had to spend $20 when I thought I had $35 in free money, we sped home.  Sullen and silent in the back seat, Wren said in a tiny voice, "Can I have grapes when we get home?"

"Of course."  And by now, I was feeling guilty for the empty threat.

Bursting through the door to the house, she kicked off her shoes, ripped open the fridge door, grabbed the bowl of grapes, and didn't    quite    make   it    to    the   counter.

CRASH!!!!  Broken bowl, squashed grapes, and a sobbing 3 yr old.  (sigh)

No matter how much I told her I knew it was an accident and I wasn't mad, she kept on crying.

After the crying, and lunch, and a play date with a friend, things seemed to be looking up.  Until the "potty dance" started.

"Mommy, I have to go!" 

Run into the bathroom.

"Then go. You know how."

Run out of the bathroom.

"Really, I have to go now."

Run into the bathroom.

"Then GO, Wren."

Run out of the bathroom and do a little dance.

"Mommy, I need to go."

Run into the bathroom.

"WREN - get on the potty!"

Silence.

"Mommy, I didn't make it to the potty."  But she made it next to the potty... onto the floor... and onto the tights around her ankles... and the skirt around her ankles... (sigh)

And the last straw - the frozen buns.  I bet you were wondering what that was a picture of.  Those are the buns I forgot to take out of the freezer for dinner - until 5 minutes before dinner was done.  (sigh)

So we feasted on sloppy joe sandwiches in hot dog buns.  Which, quite frankly, seemed to work a whole lot better for the kids.

Maybe that is the beautiful part of my day yesterday...