In the Spotlight

Both girls got to celebrate a "first" at almost the same time this year--school programs.  In April, Sassy got to be the Fox in her kindergarten musical, "The Gingerbread Man."  It was one of the lead roles, and in the end, she ate the gingerbread man, so really. . .   who's more important?  :)  She brought home a CD of music, and we practiced.  And practiced.  And practiced.  So much that Stinkus knew all the words too.  On the night of the big performance, she did a great job and it was really fun to see her up on stage.  She had two solos and then of course, she got to chomp the gingerbread man--backstage, never fear.  :)    

Then a few weeks ago, Stinkus had an end-of-year program at her new daycare.  The theme was "God Bless America" so for months, we've been hearing the cutest rendition of "The Star Spangled Banner."  I just knew she'd get up there and belt out everything she'd been practicing.  They walked in to "Coming to America" and the tears started.  I was just completely overwhelmed with gratitude for this wonderful place that has been SO good for her.  What an incredible silver lining (which I knew was there, but too often, we can't see through the clouds.)  Well. . . once again, I think God was looking out for me, because my tears didn't last long.  For some reason, Stinkus did everything BUT sing.  She twirled her pigtails, she sucked her thumb, she popped her thumb out and looked at it, she turned around and stood backwards, she stuck her tongue out at the boy next to her. . .  Yes, really.  

I did a great job on that pigtail part. . .  and I
had plenty of time to admire it.  HA!

R thinks she was bored, others say she was nervous, I think she was looking out for her emotional basket-case of a mother.  :)  It definitely made for a memorable program.  And in typical Stinkus fashion, when I asked the next day why she didn't sing, I got a quick, nonchalant shrug: "I sing a wittle bit, Mom."

I love seeing how different these two little people are.  I love that one got up there and did exactly what she was supposed to do.  I love that the other one did everything but.  I'm so proud of each of them and I can't wait to see what other "spotlight moments" life has in store.                  

Without Children

Problem:  school is out for Sassy, but yours truly still has to work.  Solution:  Grandparents!  We met my parents last week (R's parents will get a turn in August) and they had the girls until Monday.  FOUR days of freedom!!!

Without children:

• we went out to eat, not once but TWICE--and neither time was under the Golden Arches.
• we went to a local amusement park and rode all the "big kid" rides.
• we met one of our favorite couples at a local festival.
• we slept in and then made breakfast--with a Pandora "island" station playing--LOUDLY.
• there were no toys to pick up every night.
• I never had to sweep under the bar stools.
• I walked into mass on Sunday morning totally empty-handed.  No coloring books, no drinks, no snacks, no markers, no extra underwear, no squirming two year old.   
• I got to ENJOY mass.  I had time AND peace to listen and pray.
• we did a spur-of-the-moment drive to a nearby lake--no scheduling around nap time, or looking for matching shoes, or packing drinks.
• we bought and ate a whole package of Swiss Cake Rolls.  By ourselves. 
• we watched whatever we wanted on TV and only used the "rewind" feature because we wanted to, not because we missed something due to someone screaming.
• I had ONE head of hair to fix.
• we remembered life. . . . BEFORE children.

Without children:

• I slept so long that my back hurt every morning.
• it was WAY too quiet.
• my lap was way too empty.
• there was no one to tuck in or check on 20 times before I went to bed.  (I love that when they're sleeping, I still see them as the babies we brought home from the hospital.)
• I was almost bored during mass.
• there was no one exclaiming, "Dis is da best fam-wee in da world!"
• I didn't ride any of the little kid rides that I secretly love because my "excuses" weren't around.
• we bought our usual gallon of milk at the store only to find that we still had a gallon and a half in the fridge.
• I snacked constantly because I didn't have to share with little people (the scale was NOT my friend with them gone!)
• I found myself taking pictures of things the girls would love (like baby geese at the lake) since they weren't there
• the house stayed way too clean (yes, I really just said that)
• we were reminded that someday this will be life. . . AFTER children are gone.  

I'm SO grateful that our parents are such wonderful grandparents.  I love that the girls are making incredible memories with the people who raised us.  I love having some time to be "us."  And I have to admit--I love getting them back.  A quiet house is overrated.  Though I must say, Swiss Cake Rolls are NOT.    

Just Another Day

For over a week, R bugged me about what I wanted to do for Mother's Day.  I'm embarrassed to say that last year I threw a little bit of a hissy because nothing "special" was planned.  It was just another day. Of course, I forgot to realize that around here, it's Mother's Day more than one day out of the year.  I take for granted that I have a husband who cooks me breakfast every day.  On the weekends, it's a ham and cheese omelette and during the week, he fixes me toast--without making himself any because he runs out of time.  He makes my lunch for work every day and leaves it on the counter by the back door.  He cleans the kitchen after dinner while I wrestle little people in the tub (Shhh. . . .Don't tell him that bath-time is WAY easier than dishes.  And it's totally worth not seeing the mess under the table.)  He does laundry, he gets us out the door in the morning, he has the oil changed in my car. . . . The more I think about it,  this guy makes me look like a total slacker! :)

Flowers from church and homemade gifts

Another great fill-in-the blank from Sassy.  Note to self: watch more
TV in front of her.   I swear I don't watch Wheel of Fortune!

So this year, I didn't want anything "special."  We've been running around like crazy lately and I really just wanted some good quality time at home with my couch.  I mean, the people I love.  But man, I do LOVE my couch.  We did lunch after church, then went home and napped all afternoon.  It was heaven.

       

And yet, he still found a way to do something special.  A year and a half ago, our home was broken into, and among other things, the dirtbags took the two necklaces R gave me when the girls were born.  I was devastated.  Of course, we were all safe and I still had the memories of their births, but it was hard to lose something with such sentimental value.  This year, R and the girls got me another mother's necklace.  I love it.  And I love that I have another memory to add to all the others.  

I know that I take my life for granted.  I fail to see how much R does for me 365 days out of the year and how blessed I am to have this beautiful family.  It really hits home when a total stranger notices something that I can easily forget.  Yesterday during mass, an elderly man sat behind us.  I chased Stinkus down the aisle, kept her from crawling under the pews, peeled stickers off my back (apparently someone stuck them on after Communion), and tried to keep a straight face while they sang.  Loudly.  When mass was over, he simply said:  "You are truly blessed."  Yes, yes I am.  And oh-so-grateful.                     

Farm Wife of the Year

A while ago, my dad asked for a favor.  He wanted me to write an essay about my mom and enter it in a  "Farm Wife of the Year" contest.  I was pumped.  a) I love to write, b) I was touched that my dad wanted to recognize her, and c) I couldn't think of anyone more deserving than my mom.  So I sat down to write.  It was tough.  The essay couldn't be more than 300 words, which is hard to do when there is SO much to say about this lady.  But I did it.  I cut it down to 298, hoping that I had captured how much she has given of herself in a job she never expected having.  And then life got busy.  And I was away at a conference when I realized that the deadline was. . . . the day before.  And the essay was on my laptop at home. . .  I still haven't told my dad that I didn't get it entered.  I'm so disappointed and I hope that he's not too upset.  I thought that since it's Mother's Day, I would at least post it so Mom can see what I would have entered.  Dad, I'm sorry that I didn't fulfill your wish.  I'm touched that you thought to honor Mom though; we're truly blessed that God chose her for our brood.  Though she kind of failed on that oldest daughter who can't meet a deadline. . .     

When Mary M. graduated from college, she had big dreams. First: leave Smalltown, America. Second, NEVER marry a farmer. When she was offered a job in (my hometown), her brother encouraged her to accept—stay long enough to get some experience under your belt and move on, he insisted. Of course, life had other plans. She moved to (my hometown) in 1973, and met Mike J. Who just happened to be single. And who just happened to be a farmer. Two years later, they were married, and in 1976, I was born. Mom left teaching to raise a family and help Dad on the farm. It turned out to be a bigger job than she expected. Thirty-seven years and eight children later, she is still Dad's right-hand man. The girl who was never going to marry a farmer learned how to drive a grain truck, keep track of the never-ending paperwork, and bottle-feed a calf. As a mom now myself, I'm in awe of the sacrifices she made. She held down the fort AND the farm, and often went without so her children never did. She has also given of herself to the town that has become her home. She's involved in a local home extension club and numerous committees at church. Every September, she helps ensure the future of agriculture with a softball tournament in memory of my brother, with proceeds going to FFA scholarships for high school students. She's the most selfless person I know; I doubt that I'll ever grasp how much she's given up for us. I'm so glad she fell in love with a farmer almost forty years ago. Her life might be a far cry from the one she envisioned in 1973, but maybe it's because bigger and better dreams came true instead.  

Finally!

After months of struggling and more than a year of false alarms. . . we are pretty much diaper-free forever in the B household! (I'm not counting overnight yet.  Most mornings she wakes up about ten pounds heavier than the night before.  But we'll get there.)  Last Saturday out of the blue, she shocked me by saying she had to go--which she NEVER does.  She had a few accidents here and there over the weekend, and then went ALL week to daycare in big girl panties.  And every afternoon, she was wearing the same pants I dropped her off in!  No problems!  She's had one "oops" all week and that was only because she locked herself in Big Sis's room and couldn't get out.  Too bad that wasn't an easy one to clean up.  We'll leave it at that. . .  

We just got back from McDonald's to celebrate (Daddy tried to get her to pick a different place but no such luck.  Sorry, Daddy.  When you're a big girl you can pick the restaurant.)

And now I'm sitting here, feeling strangely sad.  Like so many other milestones, I couldn't wait.  I couldn't wait for that last box of diapers, and now almost literally overnight, she seems so big.  When I carry her, I love to pat her little bottom while I squeeze her.  I know this sounds crazy, but the other day, I missed patting that "diaper-bottom."  She quickly reassured me:  "It's o-tay, Mom.  It a panty-bottom now."  And I just smiled and squeezed her harder.  I've decided this is parenthood.  You wait impatiently for that next moment, just so you can mourn it passing and wonder why you were in such a hurry.  And why is it so hard?  Why is it so hard to see them change and grow and become these incredible people, when that's all we ever hope for?  

Being a big girl makes you hungry--this cup
was FULL of ice cream

Honestly, I'm thrilled that we're done with diapers.  I was getting tired of hearing from an almost three year old that I needed to change her.  Now.  Plus I had threatened to buy her diapers for her birthday so I guess I have just a few weeks to buy some toys instead.  :)  I'm still going to miss that diaper-bottom, but as I've said before, it would be far worse if she didn't get to grow up.  I need to spend lots of time appreciating that I can still hold her and squeeze her.  Before I know it, she'll be too big for my arms and I'll miss that cute little panty-bottom.