Bigger

The other day someone asked how old my kids were and I automatically answered six and three.  The second the words were out of my mouth I realized my mistake.  They are not six and three, they are seven and four.

They are not who they were, they are something more.  They are bigger, older.  They are further away from that place where they fit neatly in my arms.  Now they sprawl across my lap or worse yet find their own spot.

Slowing it down, stopping time is not possible.  I know, I've tried.  I repeatedly asked Lion not to turn four.  "You are so perfect now" I argued.  "I sorry momma.  I turn four, I no know how to stop it."  It can't be done.  Bigger happens.  Older happens.

Bigger is good.  Older is good.  I have conversations with Bunny that astound me.  She understands so much.  I am beginning to share my interests with her in a way that was not possible before.  She, in turn, has opened her world to me.  The stories she tells, the secrets she shares are beautiful.  I am blessed with a glimpse of the woman yet to be, serious, silly, talented, exquisite.

Bigger is fun.  Older is fun.  Lion is pure joy.  He experiences life, he does not sit on the sidelines waiting for something to happen.  It is inspirational, something that in my 40 some years of life I have never really been able to get the hang of.  I want to nurture that.  I want to wrap that gift so that he can carry it with him.  Remember the time when you were getting bigger, remember that boy, be that boy always.

Bigger makes me nostalgic for smaller.  Older makes me miss younger.  But bigger also leads us to better.  Older leads to more.

Six became seven.  Three turned four.  Bigger.  Older.  Better.  More.

Hold on tight

I was out all morning. I heard the news on Facebook. I was stunned. There were no words to express the thoughts and emotions swirling in my head and heart.

I prayed. I cried. I prayed some more.

I grabbed my children and held tight. "Do you want ice cream? Hot chocolate? Anything you want, it's yours". You are here. You are safe. I am lucky. I am blessed.

I now sit on the couch with a kid snuggled in close on either side, sipping smoothies. Scooby Doo is in the TV. On Scooby the kids always win. They solve the mystery. They catch the bad guy. The bad guy is never truly evil, instead driven by greed or selfishness. The hair brained scheme is easily solved within 30 minutes. The meddling kids and their talking dog save the day.

I wish life was as simple as it is for the kids on Mystery, Inc. But it isn't. It's scary. The bad guys are evil, driven by hatred and mental illness. They no longer lurk in dark alleyways. They are hidden in plain sight. They have access to guns. They lack access to the mental health care they need.

Things need to change. Politicians need to find solutions. We need to add our voices to the debate.

And tonight we need to hold our kids a little bit tighter.

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.

Furniture Shopping Can Lead to An Existential Crisis

This past weekend, we spent an afternoon shopping for a couch. Our current couch was purchased 14 years ago to furnish our first apartment. It was part of a set that we bought for under $1,000. It was not high style nor was it high quality. We needed a place to sit and the couch filled that need.

I have hated that couch for the past 13 1/2 years. It's not my style. It doesn't really match the rest of the room. It's kind of ugly. But it was comfortable so it stayed.

I am embarrased to admit to the present state of the couch. But after 14 years, two kids and two cats, I am sure you can guess that it is not good. Finally, I got sick of looking at the tears and sitting on broken springs. It was time to buy a new couch.

We went shopping. We sat and layed on a bunch of couches. We saw some we liked and some we did not. But nothing really jumped out at us and said "this is it". I pondered do we do a red couch with neutral walls or a neutral couch with color on the walls. I asked Facebook the same question. I had no effen idea what to do. Comfy couch? Nice looking couch? Color? Neutral? It was all too much.

Then I turned to my husband and asked a profound question "What do we want from this couch?" It was followed by an even more profound question "Is this couch for right now or for the next 15 years?" Deep, heavy stuff. Profound and profoundly stupid.

I think the root of my problem is a question of "What do I want from my house?" I do not know if I want to keep the living room as a family room. I think I would rather re-finish the basement (that has been partially finished for the past 4 years) and have that be the family room.

Family room downstairs = nice fancy couch upstairs
Family room upstairs = nice comfy couch upstairs

What do I want? How do I decide? And given my track record of finishing the basement, are we going to be stuck with busted couch for the next 10 years?

Celebrations Galore

This weekend was full of activity, wonderful, busy, beautiful family activity. This was the kind of weekend I will treasure forever, tucking away the snapshots to pull out when times are not so beautiful and wonderful.

First up was Halloween.

Fun times collecting candy at Daddy's office. We also went at night on Saturday but there are no pictures because I have a sad little original i-phone with no flash.

Bunny was a dalmation (not a cow). She actually trick or treated part of the night running on all fours like a dog (It's a thing both she and her best friend do all the time. It makes my back hurt just looking at them.)

Lion was a dinosaur and stomped around going roar all night.

Back view of the costumes because I made them. I need you all to see each and every scale I cut out and glued on Lion's tail and spine just to make the several hot glue gun burns I recieved worth it.

Because it's awesome (Frink was the pig).

Gratuitous cute Lion dinosaur picture.

Yesterday was Bunny day, the 5th anniversary of becoming a family in China. You can find the story here. To celebrate the day we drove to Chicago. We spent the day at the Shedd Aquarium and the Tower formerly known as Sears.

Fish.

Bunny pretending she's a penguin.

Submarine

Nothing says "I'm afraid of heights" quite like sitting in a plexiglass box 103 stories above the ground. Holy Hannah that is high.

Looks like a good place for a nap.

Riding the L.

It was a beautiful day celebrating a beautiful girl.

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.

Grown Up

I am a grown up. I know that. The age I will be next week confirms it. But I don't feel like it. I feel like a kid, a stupid kid some days.

But I act like a grown up most of the time. I am responsible. I take care of small people. I feed them and clothe them. I clean up after them. I get things done.

It's rare that my actions mirror the way I feel about myself. I don't
let go. I'm not silly and stupid. I'm not always fun. Well I am with the kids but not with myself.

It's sad really because I miss silly and stupid. I miss fun. I miss being a kid.

This past weekend I had the chance to be silly and stupid and fun. I spent the weekend with some girlfriends from law school. There were no small people in sight (or at least none that we had to take care of). It was just us reliving the glory days of no responsibilities.

I acted like a kid all weekend long. I laughed. I sang. I danced. I told dirty jokes. I played. I remembered that carefree joy I once possessed.

I want to be that girl, that kid, all the time. I don't want the weight of responsibilities, of what I should do, to wear me down. I don't want to be cranky because "do I really have to repeat myself again? Just listen to me the first or second time and we won't have this problem. No! Put that down. Don't touch that. Don't hit your brother. Don't bite your sister. Just stop it right now!"

There has to be a way to do both, to be fun and happy and to be responsible. Doesn't there?

Memory Keeping

The kids changing everyday. It's hard to keep track sometimes.

Lion's language has just exploded. He is always telling stories and singing songs. Bunny is a kindergartener now. She is in school full days. She belongs to another world now, a world I'm not always included in.

I try to mark the important things. I try to write down funny stories, to share drawings and pictures. Facebook and Twitter help but they don't always do justice to the moment. I think to much about what I write (or don't write) here. I put too much pressure on being brilliant, so I don't chronicle the memory.

But I don't want it to get lost. I need to say this happened and it meant something to me:

My brother and his wonderful girlfriend were married (my dad performed the ceremony).

We had fun on and near the water.

We spent time with friends.

We hung out with daddy.

And Bunny started kindergarten (she is such a big girl now).

Starting From Gratitude

I have so much. I know I do. But there are times when I am too blind to see it. Blinded by fear, selfishness and self pity I cannot see what a gift my life is.

A dear friend of mine started doing a gratitude list a while back. She asked if she could e-mail it to me as a way of reminding herself to complete her list daily. I was honored that she chose me and readily accepted.

She challenged me to do the same, to find 12 things each day I was grateful for. I laughed and said thanks but no thanks. Didn't she know how crazy my life was. There were days I was barely holding it together, I couldn't find the time to write a list let alone find 12 things to be grateful for. 12! That's a lot. I could find maybe 3 or 4 but not 12.

Reading her list was a revelation. There were times when I knew she was busy or had had a rough day, but she always found time to be grateful for the gifts she had been given. The more I read her lists, the more I was intrigued to start my own. I had a roof over my head, I had a beautiful family, I had my health. In short I had so much that I damn well better be grateful for it.

So I started to compile my own lists and e-mail them to my friend. They started off slow, I literally had to go through my day from morning to night to find those 12 things. But I began to find a groove, I would make notes throughout the day so I wouldn't forget something. It became a habit.

Then Sunday I woke up and I decided to start my day with gratitude. I didn't look at any situation as something to be tolerated, instead it was a gift. I found myself enjoying the day, enjoying my kids, enjoying my life. I was present in a way I had not been before and it was beautiful.

So today I am grateful for ...

and so much more.