Epiphany

We are thick in the throws of summer around here (though you'd hardly recognize it with all the thunderstorms plaguing the land) and I have had a few epiphanies.

The most important being: I really like my kids.

I know that should not come as a new realization, but should be a natural, ever-present thought in a mother's mind.

And it is.

But sometimes it's hard to remember when you're constantly surrounded by the noise, nagging, and needs of three little ones.

This morning (and on several of the mornings lately) I have had the company of my oldest son on my runs. He's eagerly laced up his shoes and we've hit the streets together in the early hours. I was selfishly worried that the quality of my workout would suffer as a result of my young companion (I do eat all that cookie dough, you know), but that has not been the case at all.

This kid can really hold his own.

No one ever told me the elated sense of pleasure I would feel, having this little person suddenly big enough to physically keep up with me. Easy conversation, the back and forth between us is as natural as can be. He talks to me. Tells me things he's feeling and working on in his little 11-year-old world.

As the miles between us and home build up, I realize the distance between he and I shrinks drastically.

Back at home, the others have made strides of their own, as well.

Last night, the light beneath a door led to me discover Chase, still awake and reading. So wrapped up in his book, that all sense of time was lost. The urgent desire to see how it all ends was keeping him from sleep. His tired eyes sparkled as he told me of the book he just could not put down. I smiled as I shut the door, and left him to his happy ending.

This boy, the one who struggled and cried when he was learning to read. His letters constantly transposed and his eyes tired from the strain - often he was left in a puddle of anguish. And often I was left in a sea of worry.

I'll tell you what - I'll let him have that late night of reading any day.

And let us not forget the princess. She, who is sometimes the neediest and most loud voice of all. The girl who has been self-appointed as a one-woman tattling machine has lately been less consumed with what others are or are not doing, and more interested in her own pursuits.

I cherish the sleepy, rock star hair that strolls into my bedroom for an early morning cuddle under the covers. I love the sound of her voice, soft and scratchy, as she tells me of her hopes and dreams for the day.

She plans big, this one.

Always wanting to grab life by the horns, and so impatient when there are trifles like breakfast and showers standing in her way.

But I have also caught her watching me lately. Observing the way I perform this little job called Mom, and forming her own ideas of the way she'll do it herself one day. Makes me stand a little taller and strive to be that much better. To be more patient. To love more, and be cross less. To cherish, instead of just tolerate. To teach, and not just discipline.

Life is a series of peaks and valleys. And right now, I feel sheer gratitude for the mountain top I've been standing on. Here's hoping I get to stay here for a while.

Because I really like the view.

How I spent my Thanksgiving vacation: By Stie

Oh, hello there. Did you think I had forgotten you?

I haven't.

I was just extra busy hosting a turkey dinner, watching my sister-in-law repeatedly clean up after seven children (three of which were mine), and making time to stuff myself silly with about 19,459 calories in three days.

It was a most excellent Thanksgiving weekend, to say the least. I was able to spend time with some of my favorite people.

People like them (even if they were cheesy, poorly budgeted, and over-the-top at times):

I also got to spend time with extra hot people like HIM (who I really wanted some alone time with, I'll be honest):But even better than that, was the time I spent with people like them:

People like them:

And let's not forget people like them, who I love most of all:

Not only was my life richly filled with those that I love, but my belly was full of food that I love. Food like this:
And our favorite gut-busting Thanksgiving tradition, food like this:

There was a lot of card game playing (with some cheating, cough*Opa*cough), hotel swimming, and late night laughing. There was very little sleeping done, but nobody seemed to mind.

It was so great to be surrounded by family, good food, and fun. We hope they will all come back again soon (especially that Daniel Craig. He's welcome to come any time).

Happy Thanksgiving, all.

Perfect, ordinary simplicity

Today I wake up to the happy chatter of my kids, already at the breakfast table. The alarm has failed to go off, but the Husband is in town this morning, and has cheerfully gotten them started.

I come downstairs, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I kiss each baby on top of their head, smelling the strawberry shampoo. I cannot help but notice Hannah's 'creative' outfit combination. I decide to save that battle for another day. I briefly wonder if her teacher will think I picked it. I decide to not care if she does.

I shuffle over in my slippers and give the Husband a sheepish hug. He smiles, dimples creasing and blue eyes sparkling, and for the millionth time in my life, I fall in love with him all over again.

I take the morning poll of who is buying lunch and who is bringing. I laugh when two of the three get excited for chicken patty on a bun, which sounds thoroughly disgusting to me.

At once, they realize today is Friday, and squeal with glee because this means they get to have music with "Eddie," a man who is probably way too cool to be an elementary school teacher. I wonder if he knows just how much the entire studentbody worships him.

I remind them to pack snacks, and laugh at Chase who always wants to bring candy. I clean up the breakfast dishes and do Hannah's hair. She chatters away, filling me in for the umpteenth time on everyone and everything that happens in the first grade. I say a prayer of hope she talks to me like this forever.

I stand at the door and wave when the bus goes by. It still makes me smile that they want me to wave, but do not want me at the bus stop. Stretching their independence, but still wanting to know I'm there. I close the door and go start sorting the laundry. I think about the fresh peaches in the fridge and decide to surprise them all with a pie this afternoon.

I hop on the treadmill and run to a couple old episodes of "The Office," and laugh hysterically because they are all new to me.

I sit and sweat, drinking the cold, crisp water from the fridge. I feel strong. I feel content.

I find that my heart is full and tears threaten to spill over, as I think of the perfect, ordinary simplicity that is my happy life. I know that this is the place I am meant to be.

I feel blessed.

A simple reminder

Last night, I had something happen which confirms to me what I know, but sometimes choose to forget.

I should preface this story by telling you about my sleep habits. I am a deep sleeper. I know as a mother, that is usually an oxymoron. Mothers are not deep sleepers. Mothers will wake at the sound of a slight cough, while Fathers will sleep through the earthquakes and thunderstorms.

It hasn't always been this way for me. When my babies were small, all it took was a little stirring in the newborn crib, and I was up, rushing to their side. If someone so much as sighed in their sleep, it woke me up.

Not so much anymore.

I find that when my head hits the pillow, I am OUT. I often barely wake as the Husband is heading out the door for early morning flights or going into the office (a fact which does annoy him to no end). I love my sleep. I NEED my sleep.

Me and the sunrise? Not good friends. We've never actually met.

And it is that fact which makes this experience all the more amazing to me.

Last night, probably around two or three in the morning, I sat bolt upright in bed. I was awake and conscious, but was not sure what had woken me up. I then felt the strong need to go into my boys' bedroom.

There, in the middle of my two sleeping sons, I saw that their lamp was on, and the shade was tilted, resting on the hot light bulb. There was smoke rising from the lamp, as the heat from the light was burning a hole in the side of the lampshade. I immediately went over and pulled the smoldering shade off, and unplugged the lamp. Not even recognizing the significance then, I went back to bed. Even as I crawled back under the covers, the what-ifs still had not hit me. Like a lug, I was back to sleep in an instant.

It was only when my eyes first opened this morning that I realized and thought about what might have been. What could have happened, had I not been pulled from a deep sleep, and directed into their room. Today, in the light of day, I have a pit in my stomach as my imagination has run wild with the horrible what-ifs.

I know that lamp was off when we went to bed. We always tuck the kids in, turn off their lights, and pry books out from under their heavy arms. Always. The only thing I can think of is that one of the boys must have gotten up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, and turned on the bedside lamp in the process.

So, why did I wake up? There were no smoke alarms going off, no bright lights in my eyes. No noise from stumbling kids. Why?

Well, I'm a dummy if I don't know why.

I do know why.

My Heavenly Father woke me up, directed me to their bedroom, and helped prevent anything bad from happening to my sweet boys.

Simple as that.

What is not so simple now is the overwhelming feeling of love and protection that I have in my heart today. In this great big world of ours, someone loves me. Someone loves my family. Someone is watching over us. He really is. Even in the middle of the night, when a simple lamp shade is turned too far the wrong way.

Today I am grateful. I am grateful to know that He loves me. That He is aware of me. He is watching over me, and my sleeping angels. Even though I swear sometimes. Even though I complain about having to go to church on really pretty Sunday afternoons. Even though I get annoyed with my kids. Even though I tend to tuck my spirituality away, and pretend it's not there. He still loves me. He still loves us.

I just wanted to share that with you, in case, like me, you had forgotten, too.

My kids

My kids wake themselves up to play at the crack of dawn, and see nothing wrong with this annoying habit.

My kids make their own waffles and smear peanut butter all over the counter. And they never clean it up when they're done, either.

My kids climb trees in our backyard.

Then come in crying when they get a scratch.

My kids make huge messes. Especially in their rooms.

My kids track mud all through the house. I honestly believe they have no idea what a doormat is for.

My kids do not want me to come with them to the bus stop. They want to do it all by themselves.

But they do require that I stand at the window and wave as the bus passes.

My kids currently do cub scouts, swimming, baseball, and ballet.

My kids whine when they have too much homework.

My kids splash water all over the floor when they're in the tub.

My kids grow out of their clothes faster than I can keep up with.

My kids crave sweets, sugar, suckers, and gum. And they get it more than they should.

My kids tell the dumbest knock-knock jokes.

My kids fight with each other.

They absolutely detest running errands, unless it's to Target, and then they beg and whine to go down the toy aisles.

My boys love Star Wars, Indiana Jones, and World War II.

My girl loves dress-ups, dolls, and High School Musical.

My kids color with markers that sometimes leak onto my desk.

My kids break expensive electronic things.

My kids wear holes in their jeans faster than ice cream melts.

My kids cannot fall asleep without a kiss and a hug from me.

***************

This morning, my mind and heart is full of all the things my kids can do. We made our semi-annual trip to Children's Hospital for McKay's asthma and allergy check-up.

And as we sat in the shared waiting room, I couldn't help but look around at the other kids. Many were in wheelchairs with contorted, mangled limbs. Many were there getting their heart checked, because the core of their body just doesn't work like it should. A few were bald, with patchy tufts of hair the only remnant of what they looked like before the cancer reared its ugly head. Some smiled. Some looked sad. Some didn't look like they knew where they were at all.

And I have never in my life been more thankful for what we don't have.

So today, I will clean up that peanut butter. I will wipe the marker off my white desk. I will hug them when they slip and fall. I will probably still get mad at the mud they track through the house. But I am eternally grateful for all the annoying, physical, happy, healthy, busy things my kids can do.

And my heart just aches for the moms who have kids that can't.

Counting my blessings

After spending a good deal of last week complaining, I thought I should spend an equal amount of time focusing on some of the good (albeit boring) things in my life.

One thing I am grateful for is that right now, there is nothing in here that I need to take care of:


I have done my duty with these today, as well, and don't have to think mean thoughts about them again until Saturday:

While the cold, frigid temperatures annoy me to no end, at least there is not a large layer of white stuff covering this:

And I am just about ready for McKay's birthday party tomorrow night. I'm going the lazy route, and he and his pals will be watching a movie and eating pizza in the basement, while I thumb through a magazine upstairs. The party favors are all lined up and ready to go:


And while shopping yesterday, I ran across an incredible bargain. A store near my house was getting rid of some of their display tables, and were selling them for twenty bucks each. This little beauty will grace the scrapbook room/office and provide the children more surface area in which to color or paint on. You know, because actually coloring on paper does ask a lot of them.

I just have to figure out how to get it downstairs first. Looks to me like a job for the Husband, when he gets home.

He'll be so thrilled, I just know it.

Some happy thoughts for me today. What's on your mind?