Family

Six years and one day ago, my family consisted of two people, just Frink and I.

Six years ago to the day, two became three. 

It's funny how the addition of just one teeny, tiny person changed everything.  One day earlier, I thought I knew who I was and what I was doing.  That day I knew nothing.  I didn't know up from down, left from right.  I just put one foot in front of the other and muddled through the best I could.

Three eventually became four.  I had successes and spectacular failures. I learned. I grew.


Mornings where I just wanted to throw in the towel and run away led to afternoons of laughter.  I think nothing of sneaking around the store like a ninja.  Stories I have heard over and over again become gloriously new when read to me by my child.   My house may never be clean.  I may not get a shower every day.  I won't know what I am doing more often than not.    But I know who I am.  I am a mom.  I am part of an amazing, crazy, perfect family.   Just Write

Clearing Out

I'm surprised at how easy it was. 

It seemed so big, so overwhelming.  Everytime I looked at it I would freeze up.  I.  Cannot.  Do. This.  So I would just close the door and move on.  The door kept it hidden from view but I knew it was there.

A friend came over.  She said she needed to get her mind off of her own stuff. She wanted to help out in whatever way she could.  Use me she said, I'm here for you.

I was embarassed to open the door to show her the chaos within.  But she didn't flinch.  We can do this.  It's not that bad.

So we did it.  We worked through the mess.  Toss or keep?  Toss, toss, toss, toss.  Keep.  Slowly but surely until the floor was clear.  The piles on the tables had shrunk to manageble size.

I cleared out the wreckage, the external clutter that had been keeping me down.  Now I no longer have to navigate a path to the computer.  It's no longer a room of doom but an office.  I can enjoy being in here.

I did it.  We did it.

Magic Snow

This winter in Wisconsin, my kids were yearning for snow. Every day Lion would ask if it was going to snow. Every day I would tell him no.

Instead of snow, we enjoyed 40s and even 50s. We went to the zoo. We played outside. We had loads of fun. But we missed the snow.

Finally last week the snow came. The kids were overjoyed. Snow pants, boots, hats and mittens were donned so they could get down to the business of playing. Tracks were followed. Angels were made. But most of all they wanted snowballs, oh how they wanted snowballs.

Snowballs to throw at trees and cars. Snowballs to throw at daddy. Snowballs to throw at mommy. Snowballs to throw at eachother.

When it was time to come inside, the snowballs had to come too. They must be saved for later, for that one special moment when it will be just right to throw. So the snowballs went into the freezer.

As the week wore on, our collection of freezer snowballs grew.
"This one is perfect momma."

"Dis insyde momma. I wov dis one."

"Momma look a heart shaped snowball."

"Maybe we could save enough snowballs to build a huge fort. Wouldn't that be cool?"

I think we are going to need a bigger freezer.

Quiet

It's a special day. The energy is different. The kids can sense it too. Their behavior is different, not better just different.

Daddy is home today. Daddy is theirs for the day.

The door closes. The voices and laughter are drifting away. A car starts and then backs down the driveway.

It's quiet. It's middle of the night quiet. It's quiet, beautiful, peaceful quiet.

It's 8 a.m. on a Tuesday morning. I am alone. The day stretches out before me full of possibilities.

Big Boys Don't Cry

I try to make it fun. I build it up like it's going to be the best thing ever.

"We are going to get a hair cut! Yay! Who cuts your hair?"

"Man!"

"Yes the man. We will go see Mr. Tony and get your hair cut. Then we'll get smoothies."

"Moooofies!"

He's fine until we walk into the building. Then he tries to crawl inside my shirt.

The moment we sit in the chair (we because he sits on my lap), he starts to cry. When the clippers start up, he struggles and screams "No momma! No momma!"

It's not working. Tony looks at me and tells me it's time. We are going to do this like a big boy.

I get up and Tony sits with Lion. He talks to him and jokes with him, constantly reassuring. He is so good with him. It will be ok.

I repeat it over and over in my mind, it will be ok. He has to learn how to get his hair cut. But Lion is beside himself, crying. "Pees momma up. Momma! Momma!"

My heart breaks in a million pieces all over the floor. It cannot be done fast enough. However, I maintain my composure so he cannot see my sadness.

Finally, it's over. Lion is in my arms laughing like nothing happened. He recieves a sucker. Yay!

Tony tells me something I already know, once a month is not enough. We need to do it more often. He needs to get used to the chair and the clippers, two weeks. Two weeks! I'm not sure if the crazy glue holding my heart together will be set by then.