Compromise

Many days as a mother I feel inadequate. I don't know how to solve sibling arguments. I make a threat I know I won't follow through with. I say the completely wrong thing in the completely wrong tone. Sometimes though, I have great mommy moments.

We've been having homework problems. Homework is getting done and its quality is good, but no one is happy. Really, we all just want to play outside. It's hard to make the girls do their homework when the sun is shining and warm. So we compromise. Above, you see Hadley practicing her spelling words....

Answered Prayers

Sunday at 7:30 am won't find any of us in bed. Generally, I treasure Sunday mornings. We don't need to hurry anywhere (a church start time of 10:15 is positively late). No leisure this Sunday. We are off to a gymnastics meet. If you've followed Hadley and her love of this sport, you must wonder how we arrived at this point.

I've struggled since the beginning of last summer with gymnastics. Clearly my oldest is smitten, bitten by the uninvited bug of gymnastic passion. The sport is pricey and dangerous. But what sport, done intensively, doesn't have a long list of risks? If her ambition was modeling, I would worry and fret about that. I can't stomach the fees  or  letting gymanstics destroy two or three family dinners a week, not yet. I can't let a sport take my girl away at such a young age. Yet, anyone who studies any sport or art to the point of recognizable success (be it a commerical, a title, a performance) gives many things up, is there a balance?  I still don't know, but for now, God changed the course I thought we were on, at least temporarily.

I watched Hadley all fall and ached. Her flipping, balancing, upside-down passion didn't wane. There were many nights of tears. Hadley wondered why God wouldn't let her compete. She knew He could change her parents hearts and provide the money. She knew multiple girls whose parents let them compete. Every night, since this summer, Hadley ended prayer time with a request that God would let her compete. I listened and winced --doubting there was any competition in her future. Sometimes in my daydreams I would get a job so she could compete, or money would come from somewhere and I could hand her, her dream. But even if the money came, I wasn't convinced that amount of time (6-12 hours a week) was healthy. And then there were stories I'd stumble upon in magazines, about girls who quit gymnastics only to worry about the lack of time working out and turn to eating disorders as an answer. I never found answers to my questions, but I found contentment, because regardless of the other issues, the money wasn't there. By December, I think both Hads and I had peace. God was in control. Even if she never competed, this passion and skill had a purpose we couldn't see.

In March, I stopped the coach to let him know Hadley loved his class. He's a good teacher and I wanted to encourage him. He's thoughtful too, passing down his daughter's used grips (for bar) so we wouldn't need to buy new ones. Coach responded with, "Maybe Hadley would like to do a fun meet?" Fun meets are what kids do in the early stages of competition. They perform routines, get judged but there isn't a state-wide ranking and coaches can be right next to them, helping them stay calm and remember the moves. Generally only kids enrolled in the team programs we had avoided could participate. Hadley heard him and her whole body started springing up and down while her eyes welled up with happy tears. Hesitant and uncertain, I asked questions. He thought she could learn the routines during her regular training hours. Perhaps she could participate in one meet without much extra cost to us. Almost crying myself, I said thank you and that we would check with Tom.

To my surprise, Tom gave a green light. Was it wise to let her compete in one meet? Would it just make her more upset in the long haul? The momentum was too strong now, Hadley believed God had answered her prayers. There was no turning back.

Weeks went by. Hadley learned no routines, but she was planning on this meet. Questions were flying through my mind. I finally stopped coach, asking him about his plans and timidly expressed my hope that this meet wouldn't be an emotional disaster. He explained the unanticipated difficulty of finding time to instruct Hads one on one with nine other girls in the class. But his plan far exceeded any of my imagined solutions. Hads has now received over five hours of free one-on-one or one two private instruction time. I feel indebted to the two coaches who have helped her. I don't really understand why we are receiving so much generosity. Sometimes I go to dark places wondering about alterior motives, but then I remember a big God who heard a little girl and a big God who heard a mother plead with him to make her daughter's faith real, and I know this is one step on the journey. And in truth, I am in no way obligated to this gym, though I do sing their praises regularly.

So think of us Sunday. Pray for us. I will be sitting in the audience, tensing my back and forgetting to breath when the hardest parts of a routine happen. This faith wave leaves me unable to plan or anticipate, grateful to know a God who can provide glorious riches beyond what we can imagine.

Girly Girls Meet Star Wars

Gathering together on couch for a family movie night a few weeks ago, I felt sorry for Tom. Here we all were, girls decked in pink with layers of silver tulle for a skirt, and he was telling him about the Millenium Falcon Spaceship he had as a boy. The show for the night was the original Star Wars, still an influential film. Tom moved on now to telling the girls about his Star Wars action figures. Poor Guy. These girly girls might not even tolerate the whole movie, but I didn't have the heart to say anything.

I fell asleep. Yup. Even with squirmy on my lap, I dozed. And the girls? They watched the whole movie, asking questions throughout. And the next day, they acted out the movie. And the next day they went to school and discovered a storm-trooper-army worth of kids who already knew about Jedi knights and told the girls Leia wasn't the only girl in the movies.

Then came the begging to see more Star Wars movies. The next weekend we showed them the Phantom Menace (movie #1). Immediately afterward, Kassy wanted to take her own money and buy a light saber (and she's my child who never wants new toys). Now, my sweet, youngest daughter has abandoned the girls in her class and spends recess playing Star Wars with the boys. No joke. She's having a Star Wars birthday party. She loves R2D2. Both girls are saving their money for Leia and Padme Halloween costumes. They bought Star Wars books at the recent book fair.

I should have known their interests were about to expand when they started complaining that they only had one pair of jeans each. (Why would a mother, whose girls only like skirts and dresses, buy more than one pair of jeans?)

Parenthood, and life, is a full of seasons. But our seasons don't begin and end with a date on the calendar and the signs of change aren't as obvious as falling leaves or blooming crocus. And so officially, I welcome the end of the princess fascination and wonder where this new force will lead.

Empty nester for the school days

I've imagined yesterday, the first day both girls would be in school all day, for over a year. (Yes, Kindergarten is an all-day gig here). I've fretted, gotten excited, and cried--all before the day came. Here's the truth: while Kassy's food allergies make school a bit more difficult, I was ready--so ready I almost felt guilty. I didn't cry and I didn't feel sad. Okay, okay, when we were praying morning prayers and Kassy started sobbing saying she wanted help not feeling nervous, I shed some tears, but that was it.

Yesterday and today are my adjustment days. A little bit of extra time to relax. Now, here's what scares me. I've been home, for seven years. The only skills I've perfected have to do with mothering. I didn't go to college for seven years (thankfully); I didn't teach for seven years; I didn't work for a publishing company for seven years. Now what? Who will I be? I can start again and reinvent my future.

We live in Michigan, home of the worst economy in the nation, for almost a decade. People don't stay home with kids after they start school so I don't have any examples to mimic. And I doubt I could get hired as a teacher--almost no one gets hired here, just laid off. And as I wonder what to do next, I 've been confronted by my own insecurities. Turns out that even after staying home for seven years, I still place a disproportionate amount of value on jobs. Let's say my "Finished" list at the end of the day reads: emptied dishwasher, put laundry away, cleaned four windows outdoors, called my mom, called friend to see how she was feeling, weeded garden, read one chapter in a book for book club, updated my blog, prepared for interview for magazine article, prepared dinner mostly before the kids got home so I could focus on them when time came, helped Hads with homework, drove to soccer practice, cleaned up dinner; read to, snugglied with, and prayed with both girls before bed, prepared lunches for tomorrow.  My brain focuses on "prepared for interview for magazine article." It reads this list item as "the only job-like thing" on the list and placess more importance on that accomplishment than the others.

Ok, I tell myself, reread the list. What might be glorifying to God on that list? Serving my family by helping to keep things organized and clean, serving my family by making sure what they eat is healthy and good for them, loving people by spending time and calling them. Yes, Yes, Yes. That's who I want to be. But, I still read the list and place importance on the job-like thing. Oh I have a lot of growing to do because I don't write most of these things down on my to-do lists. So at the end of the day if the list has just three "jobs" accomplished. I feel like I didn't do much.

So that's the mental jump I need to make. (For the record, this is a post about what I am learning, not a post about why women should or should not stay home) Still, you wonder, what is Laura going to do? I assure you there is plenty. For one, exercise. I've never climbed this mountain in my life. I've started the ascent but never gone far enough to see the view at the top.  I am slowly setting up exercise partners and placing a priority on this task. Two--write. In my dreams, I would make enough money freelance writing to not need another job. Never mind that with all the newspapers going out of business that the freelance market is saturated with better trained, more experienced writers.  I still want to try. And after seven years of 24/7 mom duty, I am giving myself the gift of trying for at least this school year. What else? I will be in the girls' school doing picture parent lessons(art history lessons) and helping in other ways. I have a Bible study I love and some mom friends to hang out with and do the book club thing. And then there is the long list of household projects that I never get to. Maybe now?

But dang it, I am doing it now-- telling you my plans and hoping you won't think me lame or lazy because my goals aren't more concrete, my time isn't more filled. But that's the gift of this season for me, unfilled time. I 've been guarding it, trying not to volunteer for every need that presents itself. Soaking up time with the Lord more. Waiting to see, what does He have for me now? I could fill my time, find a job. But I might miss His direction. Wait, Laura, wait. Be still and know that I am God. I wonder when my philosophies will match my reality?

Oh and Kassy? She liked Kindergarten. She is treading cautiously. Watching others, staring with those big brown eyes and waiting. Waiting to see if this classroom will be a safe place to show others who she is, hoping no one will bother her for having "special" snacks, looking for a distressed little girl who is shy too that she can befriend. Oh she is precious and I might cry if I keep writing about her. Sometime I will post about how we manage food issues in Kindergarten.
For now, it's 2 pm, time to start dinner prep!

Tidbits

I've gotten behind. Here's a few snapshots of what's been going on. I'm always amazed at what pictures I forget to take.

Let's see. We had our annual bike parade and neighborhood picnic. Hadley won the bike decorating contest again. Great, except her bike doesn't look much different from Kassy's and and last year Hadley took second and no prize for Kass then either. Next time I'll be tempted to tell the judges not to pick Hads.

We took a long weekend to visit Illinois. We stopped first at my parents in Rockford and were able to see my grandma. It was a nice visit and I know we took pictures but they must all be on my mom's camera?

Then we went to Chicago to stay at Tom's Grandma's. Aunt Becky lives with grandma and Grandma and Grandpa Wells came, along with Aunt Tricia, Cousin Eva, and the newest addition--Cousin Eva. Remember this post, about my sister-in-law and how she and her husband were trying to adopt? Their wish came true in June thanks to prayer and a French exchange student, they now have two daughters. Here's baby Ingrid. Not the best pictures, but she is beautiful, healthy, and happy. It was so exciting to meet her.

While in Chicago we went to the Lincoln Park Zoo. I swear that must be the zoo that every movie uses if they need a zoo. It was gorgeous, the animals were awake and not sleeping, and it's free (if you don't count the $18 parking fee...but still you COULD walk right in).

 

Can you see the tiger back there? Aren't the cousins cute? They love being together.

One of my favorite shots. 

I felt so bad that I didn't get any pictures of Grandpa Chris while we were in Honduras, I tried to make up for it here. Cute, huh? For those who wonder, Grandpa is the source of the red hair gene.

Here are the girls with Tom's younger sister (Aunt Becky)...I think she was looking at Tricia's camera, while the girls were looking at mine.

The weekend after our Chicago trip, before Tom dove head first into school, he agreed to pick blueberries with us(but not to get his picture taken). We brought most of our Bible Study with us. It was a bit chilly but we were zealous pickers. The nine of us picked close to 60 pounds of berries! Personally we brought home 22 pounds. We are stocked for the year and our oatmeal is very happy. 

The first day of second grade--complete with backpack stuffed to the max with supplies(it's the tissues and clorox wipes and paper towels that make it look so big!). She was so excited though you can't tell in this picture (camera was on the wrong setting and I couldn't tell in the view finder). Hadley loves second grade and has come home singing it's praises for the last two days---even though she had 40 minutes of homework tonight (some of that was her own distractability). Kassy starts Kindergarten next week. I don't know why. It would have been exciting to send them off together...but look for more next week as the emotions will be running strong and I'll need some blog therapy.

Saying No

Gymnastics. The girls spend more time in leotards than they do other clothing (unless you count the sleeping time of PJs). Hadley conducts gymnastics classes for all children who enter the house, willing or not. They happen in the playroom, on the gymnastics mat my parents bought me and saved for twenty years before passing on. Regularly I hear the in unison counting of my two girls as they do the designated warm ups for the day's tumbling tests.

Sometimes, Hadley will grab a clip board and write out a  list: headstand, handstand, somersault, back bend, splits. Kassy will happily perform for her teacher who then rates the skills, always with words of encouragement and praise.

November will mark the one year aniversary of starting Hads in gymnastics. While I value the strength and determination she has developed (it seems just yesterday she was crying over not being able to do a headstand...well, the tears have stopped and she has learned valuable lessons about practicing), gymnastics has my stomach in knots. True, when she spins around those bars and lets go to land, I hold my breath and can barely watch. That's bad enough, but the real knots come from the future.

Hadley started in the recreational classes and was quickly moved to the pre-team class called Ladybugs. I gawked at the three hours of practice per week that they wanted and only agreed to once a week. They gawked at me, but must have needed the money. Now they want to move Hadley to Junior Trainers, which requires six hours a week in the gym, for three hours at a time. The fee, not including the insurance fee, $150 per month. If a month was really only four weeks long, that would be $6.25 an hour--not unreasonable.

And Hadley is praying fervently to be able to be a Junior Trainer. She'd sell most of her possessions and give up soccer if she could be a trainer. She wants a team leotard and wants to compete. She's good--not exceptional, but good.

But I can't afford $150 a month, not unless I tell Kassy she can't do anything. And the next level is 9 hours a week and more money. And the level after that? 12 hours.I don't want her gone twice a week from 4:15-7:15. She's 7. I want her home for dinner---the too- busy- for- family- dinner thing CAN'T happen yet. And who knows? Gymnastics might not be her life-long sport love and no one can do gymnastics past their early 20s. But for now, Hadley is smitten. We both cried when they moved her up because we both knew she couldn't go up.If I knew a college scholarship or a job teaching gymnastics full time was in her future, I'd go get a job and make this work, but some people don't even think gymnastics is a particularly healthy sport and I don't know the future.

Why are kids sports so intense, so quickly? Can't she just go for two hours a weeks? Yes, she can. But then she can't compete and she gets second rate coaching. You know those moments when you look at your sweet, sleeping child and hope you can give them all that their heart longs for? I've always known I couldn't, that I shouldn't, that heart breaks would come and I would be powerless. But tomorrow I have to call the coach, "Look, we can't do this, now what?"

And then I have to tell Hadley, who is still holding out hope that she is so good, they will let train anyway, I will have to say, "Look honey, even though your friends can be trainers, you can't (with, the undertone of we don't have the money). But you can still take gymnastics(unavoidable translation by my daughter:non-competeing, inferior, gymnastics). Chin up." And we will both cry.

And I will wait for the day when I can grab her thoughts and complete the lesson, see, "We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." But I will still cry.

Rain sale

I know...you are wondering about the termites. And maybe even the diabetes (I just went to the doctor), but let me tell you about today. Drop me a note or a comment and then I'll know what you want to hear about.

I'm sitting in my garage. It's raining. It's 60 degrees outside. I'm drinking hot chocolate and wearing a favorite hoodie that needs to be a bit warmer. (I still think of the end of August in college-in-Iowa terms---the hottest most sweat-dripping days came the first week of school as we moved into the non-air-conditioned dorms). The calendar says August 28th, but it is not August.

If you remember the post about the girls cleaning out their toys and wanting to sell them to raise money for the orphanage, that's why I am in the garage. At the sale. Numerous times I thought, "Why am I going to all this work to have a sale?" But the girls had a noble desire and I wanted to follow through with it. I knew we didn't have enough stuff for a great sale, but I wanted the girls to have a finished lesson. I checked and double checked the weather. But by Wednesday this week, I couldn't postpone the decision any longer. The weather was supposed to be good. I decided to do it.

It's noon (3 hours of sale). There have been 5 customers and lots of rain. We've made $16 dollars. And if one or two moms, or an eager grandma, with little girls between ages two and four would just walk up the driveway, they would find treasures (like a heart-stealing tiny stuffed iguana or a love poem in book form), beautiful shoes and some great dresses. But alas, it's cold in my bones with all this wet, I've moved into the warm house, covered the clothes rack with a tarp and am writing with the computer facing the garage. The neighbor across the street said one of the signs had fallen down. It's raining, hard. Do I bother to fix it? Will the crayola markers the girls used to color the sign be indiscernible? Not sure I have the heart to find out. I hate well-intentioned lessons that don't work.

What to do now? Do I pack up everything and save it until the neighborhood garage sale next June? Or do I pack it up and send it to some charity's thrift store? I hate it when effort seems in vain, but at least all this stuff has been sort out and won't go back in the drawers.

Off Beat

We can't find our summer groove. The weather is too cold. We still need long-sleeve shirts or jackets until about 11 am. The girls are fighting. And I am resisting, trying to avoid the necessary discipline and coordination that comes with the three of us being home all day.

Summer works best at my house if it is planned, coordinated and not left as a free-for-all. I've done it before, but this summer is the first time both girls just finished some level of school. And the differences between the girls are pronounced this year. Hadley can read chapter books and will spend 45 minutes after a trip to the library absorbing a new tale. Many of her favorite activities include writing a plan or making lists. The world of reading and writing doesn't make much sense to Kassy after listing the fifteen words she can read.

I know how to handle all this. It involves stopping what I am doing, putting the laundry down, the groceries on the floor, the cooking away and supervising. Hads can read to Kassy who will happily listen. Hads can write down stories that Kassy dictates or illustrates. I know teaching siblings to care for each other and to get along doesn't happen by accident.

Here's my goal schedule. I make one each year. Usually by the end of the summer we follow it with less frequency, but recording it holds me accountable. (for the record I've gotten up three times since starting this post to intervene in the sister feuds). So, the schedule:
Wake up, at a natural time (aka no alarm clock)
eat, get dressed, make beds, put PJs away
Do a chore: put away laundry, sweep, pick up sticks, etc. Summer is my time to teach new tasks as each year we expect the girls to do a bit more work around the house.
Either watch 30 minutes of TV, pack for swim lessons, or play. I've designated Tuesday and Thursday as no screen days--meaning no TV or computer all day.
Lesson time for at least 45 minutes: the next few weeks we will focus on writing and Spanish. We'll do math when we return from Honduras. I really believe summer break is a disadvantage academically unless you make it otherwise--you know, fill in the gaps, teach the things they don't learn at school, reinforce concepts.
Lunch
playtime
At 3 pm. We all go to separate rooms for quiet time for an hour. No sleeping required. But we all need a break.
From 4 on, there is no plan.

And then there are the messes. Being home all the time creates messes. It seems everywhere we go requires a bag: for snacks, water bottles, sunscreen, snacks, maybe even a picnic lunch, towels for swimming, bug spray. The necessary gear for summer gets thrown in a bag, bits get left in nooks in the car and thrown on a table or the ground upon entry to the house. I can either clean up the messes myself (bad choice) or make the girls do it. Both take discipline and a good attitude.

Soccer season and end-of- the-school-year activities wore me down. I feel exhausted and tired of being on the go. Hopefully after this weekend, the house will be restored to some order and the groove of summer will arrive (with some warm weather please!). Summer is fun, but as a mom, it takes discipline since the natural routine of the school year is lost. But I know it's good. At this house, summer won't be an end to learning, the subjects will just change.

And now, I need to go find the sleeping bags and pads and make certain the portable DVD is charged. I promised the girls we could have our first sleepover in the treehouse tonight. We made jello jigglers (sugar-free) and popcorn. We rented a movie. I'm not sure how much sleep I will actually get, but it will be a memory and hopefully the first of many treehouse sleepouts!

Things to remember

When I got into the shower this morning, there were four naked Barbies, hanging in strange positions from the towel racks, the soap dish and the faucet. Some were tied with hair bands, others with yarn. And who knows how yarn got into the bathtub? And why are all Barbies, even the mermaid one, always 100% naked? We do have a Barbie swimsuit or two.

My girls rarely get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. But a few nights ago Hadley got up at 2:30 am to go potty. Our upstairs is tiny-- two bedrooms and a landing and lots of wood floor. She woke me up. I had to go potty. Kassy heard us and wanted to know what was going on. I shuffled the girls back to bed and turned around, only to find Tom. Going potty. Of course. It seems that the mere hint of a toilet in the middle of a night causes all of our bodies to need to go.

Activity snuck up on us. Suddenly this year, I am no longer shaking my head at the insane families who rush their kids from activity to activity--we are one of those families. None of this busyness was in my plan. It just happened--a few too many yeses. And I can justify everything we do, and yet, I see the need to sacrifice for the sake of sanity. I have some ideas to make next year better, but the reality is that soccer season will always bring an element of exhausted rushing. If your kids are still toddling, beware of what you commit to. Even if you swear not to be like us, you'll be surprised.

I think May is a useless month for blogging. Every activity has an end of the year shindig and then there is soccer. So around here we have going to soccer, going to gymnastics, going to dance and rehearsals for the recital, going to the poetry reception where Hadley was chosen as a presenter, going to soccer. Here's our schedule this week:
Monday: Mercifully we only have Bible study at our house this night, usually there is soccer too.
Tuesday: 3:30-4:05--homework and snacks, 4:15 Hads to gymnastics, 4:30 leave Hads at gymnastics to go home and finish making dinner, feed Kass, prepare a plate for Hads and get Kass ready for soccer , 5:30 Tom rolls in from riding his bike to work, gulps down about a gallon of water and scoops Kass up and away to soccer game which Hads and I will miss this night, 5:45 pick Hads up from gymnastics, get up prettied up in our dresses, eat in five minutes and leave, 6:20-7:40 poetry reception. Then off to bed go the little ones (yes, without a bath, even though they needed one.)
Tonight and tomorrow there is soccer. It's nice to have a husband who coaches because then I don't have to go to all the practices. Hads is playing in an elite U8 team this year--not because of her skills but because of her dad's coaching skills. She is younger than everyone on the team by 15 months, but she's holding her own and scores a goal a few games again. She isn't fast, but she runs her heart out and is developing some good dribbling moves. After the games I run out to a smoothie place to meet some girlfriends (you better not use busyness as an excuse!).
Friday--No school for the girlies. Kass has soccer practice and we have a party to host that night. So when the kids are in school I try to hold us together--make sure dinner will be ready, do laundry (and this time of year there is a lot it), manage the finances, tutor, and write and article or two. A blessing/curse of Kass's food allergies is that I must always make food from scratch, but then not being able to run to McD's might be a good thing. When there is free time, I don't want to write on the blog---I want to garden. I'll get the tomatoes, beans, beets, herbs in this weekend. I'll need to wait until June for the cucumbers and melon. Living this far north takes patience in the spring.
Saturday is dance class and no soccer because of the long weekend.
Whew. Then hit repeat and we go into next week with a few adjustments and some doctor's appointments too.

My English-teacher heart has been bursting. Each year Hadley's school hosts a district-wide poetry festival. Students in K-12 can submit original poems. I've been reading my girls poems since they could talk. And Hadley, oh joy, wanted to write one for the contest this year. I spent a week reading her different poems from Shel Silverstein to Robert Frost to Langston Hughes and even a bit of Emily. We also found a children's book of poems with all kinds of classics.

When we sat down to write the poem I told Hads the process. First you think of a topic, then you think of a creative way to write about the topic. In kindgergarten, they spent a few weeks working with descriptive words so I reminded her of that and reminded her how a poem looks different from a normal paragraph. She thought briefly and then rattled out the poem. I had vowed to myself that I would stay silent. No suggesting different words or lines from this former editor. I was silent--even when I couldn't figure out how she could possible end this poem. Then, I made her wait two days. We reviewed the poem (teach the writing proces at a young age) to see if she wanted to change any words. I read it out loud to her. She made one change--appropriately changing an its to his. Yes! My baby girl is good with pronouns. I turned in the poem according to all the rules but felt nervous. I thought her poem was really good--but what if the judges thought I had helped. (In 6th grade my science project took second place with a note from the judge saying my parents had helped too much--I, of course, don't remember any help.) But Had's poem was chosen for presentation and she acted so confident up there reading into the microphone. I know I should stop my camera as a video recorder-- then you wouldn't have to strain to hear her so much and I didn't pick a great seat either. I printed the poem below the video so you can follow along.

The reception was fun and Had's best friend and her family came and cheered her on, which was awesome since Tom and Kass were at soccer. Sitting in the auditorium watching the grandparents file in I really missed my family....so here you go grandmas. Enjoy!

I Am
by Hadley Wells
I am an eagle soaring through the sky.
I am a flamingo balancing on one foot.
I am a bear catching her food.
I am a star twinkling brightly in the sky.
I am a mother bird laying her eggs.
I am a snake slithering left and right.
I am an elephant swinging his trunk to and fro.
But really, I'm just dreaming, really.

Another parenting tip

Before Kassy was born, Hads and I started frequenting the library. We would go to story time where the man with the marvelous voice would introduce us to kids' lovables like Froggy and that snoring Bear. I would fret about how my almost-two-year-old wouldn't sit still and listen and how she wouldn't color for more than two minutes. If you asked me about such struggles now, I'd smile and say, "Don't worry. Everything's fine. She's only two."

Like most good libraries, the picture books were in low bins so the little kids could look at, touch, and explore the books. One day Hads picked out a book called, Lanny's Lost Mommy. The girl on the front was little and had on a bright yellow dress. Lanny taught Hads and me a valuable lesson, a lesson I knew, but had forgotten to pass on. Lanny got lost in the department store at the mall. The book taught us both things like if you get lost never leave the store you are in, look for store employees to seek help. Remember your mommy or daddy will always come back and look for you. I added to the basic ideas in the story lessons about how to identify store employees and that if all else fails, find another mom with kids. Another mom is as close as you can get to a guarenteed safe person.

I wish I could tell you to check out the book. But I haven't been able to find it, even on Amazon; maybe it's still in the Des Moines Public Library System. Even without the book, you can teach young kids, as young as two, what to do if they get lost in a store. Unlike some other lessons, this one has a higher likelihood of happening if your child is as wiggly as my Hads.

First taste of alcohol?

About a week ago.
Kassy: Mommy, is alcohol bad for little kids?
Me, with my eyebrows raised: Yes, why do you ask?
Kassy: Because Jill (fake name for a friend) said it was. She said the cops would come get us if tried some. And Jill gave us a squirt.
Hadley: Mommy, what does that look on your face mean?
Me, trying to look normal: I am just confused. What do you mean a squirt?
Kassy looks frantically at her sister, trying to communicate something without words and then she starts crying: Will you tell the police?
Me: Hold on girls. What happened? I promise the police won't come and get you.

There is a bottle of hair detangler in the upstairs bathroom. It's been empty of hair detangler for over a year, filled instead with water, which seems to work just as well. The girls squirted the hair detangler in their mouths. Jill read the ingredients and the second and third ingredients are kinds of alcohol, like isopropyl alcohol. There is so much to teach our kids! I did call Jill's mom and tell her the story in case Jill had told her own version. Jill was too afraid to tell the story, but her mom got a good laugh.

Reality Check

This post, started as a report on life and the struggles of the day to day, but mid-way through turned into a note to Kassy, at some future age.

Kassy turned 5 on Tuesday. I need to record the day and its events, but I am still processing a wave of reality that hit me.

One of our traditions is that on your birthday, you get to pick the menu. Fruit and vegetables still need to be involved and a meal can't be made up of just candy, but you can pick the menu. Hadley had pancakes all day, every meal. Kassy had pancakes for breakfast and taco salad for dinner. For lunch though, she wanted to eat hot lunch--like all the other kids. My heart sank. I suspected Kassy was becoming more sensitive about her food allergies-- her request seemed to prove it. I checked the menu: grilled chicken patty sandwich, french fries, fruit choice. If I went with her and helped, I thought we could make this work as long as the fickle cafeteria czars didn't change the menu.

I wasn't expecting to get so choked up telling the teacher we were going to try hot lunch for the first time. And then as part of their homework, the kids were sharing favorite foods: ice cream, cookies, donuts, cake, etc. Everything they listed were forbidden in their normal form for Kassy. As each kid shared their list, I was yawning, trying not to listen, and stretching my eyes, all in an to keep the tears from coming. Denying her such treats was good for her, but no one relishes the feeling of being different.

Oh my little girl, I want to give you the world, to protect you from pain. But here, it's already arrived. In this room of little kids, you are different. Everyone suffers this realization at some time, I am sorry yours has come so soon. It's only food. But I know it bothers you.

As a baby dear girl, it was hard to not know what why you would cry. It was hard to be full of patience and gentleness when I hadn't slept for more than 4 hours at a time for months. I would worry when you ate too much and worry when you wouldn't eat. But all those concerns, they were physical. Now, as you grow, the physical tasks of parenting lessen year by year, but the emotional and social tasks grow.

And I am realizing, with a raw freshness, that part of my job as a parent will be helping, watching, and praying as you and your sister experience the pains of life. I have no idea what form they will take, but there will be pain, disappointment, illness, and betrayal. And I can't stop it. The older you get, the less control I have. Friends will call you mean names, you won't be as talented as some other little girl, life won't be fair. Reality is coming, slowly I hope, one grade at a time. I am thankful, that we have a faith to lean on. The hope and love of Christ we can grasp as we weather each undesirable curve ball is invaluable.

I am not sure why, but that hot lunch was so hard for me ( as. It was the scary monster under the bed that I had to face and it is still haunting me even though I know where my hope lies.

Children in the Car

So I am craving a diaglogue with my mom friends. But they are on vacation or far away and I am insane and planned way too many activities for spring break to gather some moms for conversation. Maybe you can tell me your thoughts here. Can I leave my two girls in the car while I run into a store for a quick errand? Thirty years ago the answer was yes. I remember being left in the car while mom picked up a few groceries. How old was I, mom? I knew enough then that I would get a little worried if an unkempt man walked too close, because in my mind all kidnappers were male, unkempt, and smelly. My kids are trained, as much as is possible. They know about stranger danger, they know how to get in and out the car, and of course I consider the temperature and don't leave the keys in the car. The safety basics are covered. But in this crazy world, in this current time period, can anyone leave kids in the car alone? And if yes, how old do they have to be? Can I run in for 1 minute? or five? What about ten? Can I only run in if I can see the kids from the window of the store, like at UPS or if I park strategically at the post office? Is this a practice from the olden days that can't continue? A practice that can only continue in small towns? What do you think? Do you shake your head shamefully if you see kids alone in the car?

Private Parenting Tip

The topic below is a sensitive one. Just so you know in advance. 

In Montana, Hadley's preschool covered good touch/bad touch as part of the curriculum. Initially I was a little alarmed, but the teachers had a parent night where they presented the curriculum for parents prior to teaching the kids. The stuff they used was really well done and very appropriate. And honestly, I had been clueless about a good way to approach such a subject with small kids. The curriculum gave me insights. I assumed the curriculum was probably popular and widely used, but Kassy's preschool won't be covering the good touch/ bad touch lessons. So, because I think it is helpful, I will share the basics of what I learned. I can't remember the curriculum name or the name of the cute video they used (which was wonderful...even though it seems impossible to make a wonderful video on this topic). 

First, use swimsuits to teach private parts. It's up to you if you want to use anatomical names or not. Based on swimsuits, you can show that girls have two private areas and boys have one. 

Second, was a little saying: Private parts are private. No one should touch them except for a few adults who need to help keep you clean and healthy. 

Then define clean and healthy: wiping, washing, doctor check-ups, and in the case of my girls, applying ointment to yeast infections. Give examples of adults who might need to help keep a kid clean and healthy: caretakers and doctors. Every one's list of caretakers varies. 

Teach your kids to say "No" and move away if they aren't sure a touch is appropriate. And teach them that any adult who asks them to keep a secret from Mommy and Daddy is deceitful and must be not be trusted. Always tell mommy and daddy. (Of course, Hadley wanted to know about surprise presents...there are always exceptions). 

We can't guarantee safety for our kids since most of can't, and don't want to, be with our kids all the time. The stats about how most abuse occurs by someone a family knows and trusts is alarming. I think teaching our kids a few simple ideas could be helpful. Has anyone had similar conversations with their kids? Any suggestions?

 

Knowing my kid

Yesterday, I had the routine parent-teacher conferences for both girls. I've never loved these. We've never had a fantastic teacher, and probably never will because my expectations are way too high. They were too high for myself when I was the teacher. Both my girls are doing well in school: good behavior, good social skills, learning what they need to learn. So there is no problem. But I generally leave a conference disappointed because my on paper and in the unspoken words of the teacher, my kids are just ordinary kids who require evaluation.  

Here's my problem. Like most mothers, I adore my kids. I think my girls are wonderful, charming, amazing creatures. I know they don't always act perfectly, but I want the teachers to love them, appreciate them and see how marvelously special my girls are. It doesn't happen. How could it? Usually there are over 2 dozen kids in a classroom (Kassy's preschool would be an exception). The teacher needs to teach, keep the kids in line, manage endless papers, be creative, deal with tattling, and the list goes on. Sometimes the only break an elementary school teachers gets is lunchtime, and if it is too cold to go outside, well then the kids are nightmarishly hyper after lunch. The class is a class, not 24 individuals. And unless you have a kid who really stands out in personality, academics, or behavior ( and stand-out behavior is generally not a good thing), she is isn't likely to be noticed often. Don't get me wrong, I don't think Hadley gets ignored (this post is really mostly about her--preschool for us has been much more personal). Mostly, I need to vent and  since the teacher didn't notice, I really just want to tell someone, "Hey, take note  My kids are special, awesome, and super cool. "

Birthday Extravaganza

Hadley had her birthday party yesterday. I'm wiped out. I'm also blessed to have friends, childless friends who happily come to help out. (But who could resist a very serious 6-year-old pulling you aside and asking if you would please be in charge of some aspect of her party?) Hads invited 13 little kids, yes thirteen. We made the invitations while Hads was home sick one day. I intended to print the info on the computer to make them look nicer, but there was the little problem of the virus-stricken computer. In inviting, I failed to think through the all important step of how much space is there at the table? But I reasoned, surely two people won't be able to come. I was wrong. Everyone RSVPed affirmative. But one little girl never showed up; the kids said she was home sick from school on Friday. 

We started the shindig with crafts: floral crowns made with artificial flowers and leaves in 

one room, and yards for the little plastic pets in another. (By little plastic pets I mean those funny bobble-headed, tiny plastic animals that Hads loves, Littlest Pet Shops they are called and each child got one to take home. We made yards for them to play in --out of fabric, foil, and construction paper.)

Hadley came up with the crown idea and asked our dear friend Teagan to help. She made me looked organized and well-planned. She also thought up the yard idea and helped me find all the supplies for very little money. Really, Teagan and her husband Beau made the party extra special. They could help at parties for a side business. Hadley also decided that she wanted everyone to wear their PJs. Her menu included pancakes with strawberries, whip cream and syrup and ice cream. She didn't want a cake. 

After the crafts we had pancakes. We managed to fit all 12 kids in the dining room and served them. It took four of us, Cody, Laura, Tom and myself to get everyone what they wanted. 

Tom got up early Saturday to make a giant bowl of pancake mix and a smaller bowl of gluten-free pancake mix (for Kass). He wanted to play Ultimate Frisbee at the high school with

 the guys he always plays with. He promised every thing would be ready by the time he left at 8 a.m. and it was. The girls and I even went to Kassy's ballet class at 9:15, came home a little after 10 and had nothing to do but wait until 10:20 when the first guest arrived. 

After the pancakes, Beau

 did a juggling and magic show for us. There was lots of laughing, yelling, and a little screaming (what little girls don't scream?). Beau was great. 

Then we opened presents. I hate this part. But Hadley, of course, loved it. We had a good conversation the night before about the proper way to act at a party. We talked about what to say when you open presents, even if you already have the gift, or if you don't like it. We talked about the importance of being a good hostess, of making sure your guests are having fun and feel comfortable. They were good lessons and

 taken to heart by my young birthday girl, who was full of good manners and profuse thank yous. But I still hate all the junk that comes. The presents are nice and even thoughtful. But the girls get

addicted in the days after the party to constantly wanting something new to do 

or play with. I don't think a birthday party helps combat the constant state of the gimmes these little kids are stricken with. Next time I think we might take the no-gift approach. 

There were a few funny moments at the party, where it was clear the curriculum at their school was exceptional. Like when they all sang Happy Birthday in English and Chinese. Or when during one or two magic tricks, when Beau couldn't convince them that a secret bag didn't have hidden pockets. Clearly those kids were thinkers. Overall, it was a really great party. And many many thanks to our friends who made it that way. We are blessed. 

Remember you can click on an image to see a larger version and so sorry if there are weird text breaks in this, I've never moved pictures around within a post before....

Chasing the bus

K and I walked H to the bus this morning. It was a brisk, pleasant morning. The bus came; we started to walk home. Then I realized I still was holding H's backpack. I could imagine her panic when she realized she was missing her homework, gym shoes, and lunch. I started trying to calculate my morning and how on earth I could fit in the 20 -minute round trip drive. The bus driver must have heard H's real scream of panic, because when I turned around I saw the bus slowly backing down the street. I ordered K back to the sidewalk and ran the five houses to the bus. There was Hadley, at the top of the stairs, smiling, relieved. 

"You're a great bus driver," I told Mrs. C. "And I am a silly mommy." I think the whole bus laughed, at least the whole front of the bus which is the K-2nd graders. 

Many thanks to my cheesecake-making namesake for the use of her computer the past two days. 

Anger Management

Writing is so therapeutic for me. This one has been cooking in  my head for a while now. 

I can't control my tears. When I feel any strong emotion: joy, anger, embarrassment, hurt, disappointment, tears come. I can't stop them. I've tried. If the emotion is just a little strong, I can sometimes yawn the tears away or maybe stretch my eyes to make them stop. Growing up these uncontrollable tears were a source of extreme embarrassment, which created a double problem. It was terrible to start crying in math class when I couldn't figure out how to do a problem, but even worse to keep crying from the embarrassment of people noticing the first set of tears. Even before I really believed in God, I would pray that nothing would cause me to cry. 

While the tears were at times nothing short of horrifying, they had the unexpected bonus of not allowing me to bottle up or stuff any strong emotions. I still regret that I can't command my tear ducts to stop, but as an adult I take more things in stride and tend to feel the strong, tear-inducing emotions less.  So the public tears are more infrequent and more appropriate when they do come.

I started pondering my tear reactions two weeks ago, after dealing with H and her temper. 

H has the temper that stereotypically accompanies her hair color. When she gets frustrated or embarrassed or angry, she doesn't cry, she gets mad. Sometimes she gets mad at herself, sometimes at other people. Often the reactions are extreme enough that she has to go to her room for cool down. At first, I tried to teach her that she could hit her pillow if she wanted to. But, a pillow was unsatisfying to her and such a suggestion lent itself to reinvention in other physically harmful ways that we don't want to promote. About two weeks ago, H actually threw the wooden stool at the wall while in her room. 

So now I have been pondering, what's an appropriate thing to do when angry? I don't want her to stuff it or deny it. Sure, if it is anger as a result of selfishness it would be nice if she could just repent and move on, but that is not a realistic expectation for a 7-year-old. I cry when I get angry (weird, I know). Tom leaves the situation, walks for five minutes and can then usually cope. H isn't old enough to walk around the block. And removing herself from the situation into the comforts of her room is apparently not enough for her little temper. Now what? I'm taking suggestions.