Peace and Quiet

We survived Thanksgiving. In addition to my big family, we've also added four spouses and so far, six grandkids. (No more from this household, rest assured!) To say that it's a bit crowded at family gatherings is an understatement. Luckily we get along well enough to tolerate each other for 4+ days. At one point the cousins were running like crazy through the house and SHRIEKING. What is it with girls screaming?! It drives me insane and I'm used to it. Unlike the dogs in the surrounding four counties and my dad. I went into the living room after the madness had gone to sleep and apologized for all the noise. His answer wasn't at all what I expected: "Well, they aren't hurting anything. You wouldn't believe how quiet it will be on Sunday." It's another one of life's ironies. I don't know how many times I've said, "What I wouldn't give for a moment of PEACE around here!" and our parents have all the peace in the world now--and it's too quiet. :( The girls will be gone in about fifteen years. Which is nothing compared to the (hopefully) 30ish years we'll have later. I often remind R that he'll miss all the toys under his feet 24/7 but once again, it's hard to appreciate it at the time.

So during this holiday season, I'm going to try to appreciate the daily FLEETING moments that drive me insane:

1. EVERY morning at 6:15 I hear an elephant running through the house, the bathroom door is flung open, and a little face appears at the shower door, wiping steam away: "What you doing, Mom?" Hmmm, same thing I was doing yesterday at this time without any privacy. She then plops down on a rug and watches the show. Thank goodness she's only two and not old enough to ask too many questions about what she and Sassy did to my body.

2. I've also found that I'm either going to have an audience while I'm doing my business in the bathroom or endure a constant, "Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom," on the other side of the door. I'm not sure which is worse.

3. I have ZERO time to myself on my commute to work. One is dropped off at daycare and two minutes later, I'm getting out of the car with the other one who spends about five minutes at my work before the bus picks her up. Now this could be great quality time but it's usually spent listening to never-ending stories about princesses and cupcakes and constant fighting over whose turn it is to talk. I'd just like a turn to listen to the radio.

5. I now know why my dad was so cranky in the evenings. He didn't have DVR. It is impossible to watch anything with kids. I feel like our TV is on permanent pause and two hours later, the time is up and we still aren't ready to watch it.

6. My parents always had a "circle" in the house that was great fun growing up. We have one too. And it's apparently still fun decades later to run through rooms, chase each other and scream like wild animals. Maybe we should have sold our house after all. . .

7. I sound really selfish saying this next one because it would have been a vacation for my mom to grocery shop with two kids, but wow, I would love to have one trip ALONE. Actually, it's usually not too bad. But I just had surgery and I can't lift Stinkus into a cart. It's ugly. I don't think Sassy's fingers ever left the cart when she was little. Stinkus is lucky to be in the same AISLE as the cart. I wasn't sure whether to be nervous that someone would take her or grateful if someone did. Just kidding. Kind of. :) Man, I was worn out. Again, I used to laugh at parents who put their kids on leashes. . .

I have to remember that someday, in the not-so-distant future, grocery shopping and car rides will feel lonely. I'll miss that little Peeping Tom who greets me in the morning and wants to climb in the shower so I can "hemi-hemi!" Someday there will be nothing on TV and all the time in the world to watch it because there are no toys to pick up. And I don't want to be sad about it. I want to enjoy all the chaos now and send my girls off to live the rest of their lives--and then enjoy the rest of our life together. What's really sad is I'm going to look even worse in the shower. . .

Fortunes

I've always loved fortune cookies. Well at least the fortunes inside. I'm not convinced that anyone actually eats the cookie. . . Some are amusing, some thought provoking, some frighteningly intuitive. As with lots of things, kids have given me a new perspective on fortune cookies and there's a whole new reason they're fun: I get a huge kick out of Sassy. She has become the fortune cookie expert who emphatically declares “That's not a fortune!” when someone gets a less than desirable peek into the future. Oh, the irony when our last visit to a Chinese restaurant resulted in Sassy getting: “Have a nice day.” HAHA! I laughed SO hard as she pouted and scowled. She's right. That's SO not a fortune.

I've been carrying one around in my wallet for a while now: “You will be fortunate in every way.” I loved it. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. It might be one of my favorite holidays. There's no extra pomp and circumstance. No exchanging presents, no dying eggs, no shooting off fireworks. Just family and food. LOTS of food. “I should have worn elastic” amounts of food. And of course, giving thanks. Something we should honestly do all year long. It's nice though to set aside a day to acknowledge how blessed we are—because at times, it can be hard to remember on the other 364. I know that I often forget—when my molehills are growing into mountains and life's curveballs keep coming. Unfortunately it's easy to let life's tragedies and hard-knocks overshadow the many blessings. So I love this fortune. It's been a nice reminder every time I open my wallet that I AM fortunate to be living this life. Even when I'm opening my wallet at the pump to fork over $3 a gallon. Which sadly would be “cheap”. . .

And how cool is this. . . the other night while Sassy was sulking about her fortune and doing her best to NOT “have a nice day,” I cracked open my fortune cookie: “You will be fortunate in every way.” Now, maybe getting two of the same fortunes says we eat at this particular Chinese restaurant a little too much. Maybe there are thousands of people walking around with the same mass-produced fortune tucked in their wallets. But I like to think that I was destined to have that fortune—and it's only fitting that I have multiple ones. Just like our blessings. :)

Happy Thanksgiving! And have a nice day. HA!

Hallo-Mean

This year, we had a mermaid, a pumpkin, and two "mean" parents. No masks necessary.

This parenting thing is hard work. Or maybe I put too much pressure on myself. I'm no expert by any means so I often find myself questioning my decisions: wondering how something will affect these little people we're raising or how it will come back to bite me in the years to come.

Last Halloween, we had an absolute blast. We went with some of our best friends to a nearby (rich) neighborhood and went door-to-door filling our buckets until they were too heavy for little hands to carry. The streets were filled with trick-or-treaters, as my friend put it, "like something out of a movie." The quintessential Halloween. It was a great time.

Which made things difficult when Halloween rolled around this year. We struggled with what to do. Was it more important to have fun or more important to do the "right" thing and only go to homes we know? Would we forever ruin Halloween if we didn't let our kids go back and experience the perfect Halloween?

Well, after much discussion, we decided to make our children hate us and only go to homes we know. No, we didn't go to as many places as last year and no, we didn't get as much candy, and yes, it was a huge pain getting in and out of carseats at each stop. (No door-to-door in our "neighborhood" out in the boonies.) But we discovered some hidden blessings in being the "mean" parents. We introduced ourselves to some new neighbors that we've been meaning to meet; Halloween gave us an excuse to stop. We got to visit with our neighbors who have been married for 60+ years and never have trick-or-treaters. Doug exclaimed, "We were hoping you'd stop! I told Gail to get some candy!" I know the girls made their night.



We got the "special" treatment at Sassy's librarian's house--who happens to be my dear friend--because we got to go IN and visit unlike all the other trick-or-treaters on the porch.



Another friend was SO excited that we were coming. She and her teenage daughter never have trick-or-treaters. I don't know what was cuter, seeing the girls walk up her steps, or seeing Michelle rush back in the house and stage the scene. "Oh, who could it be? Ohhhh, trick or treaters!"



Sassy did complain a few times that she didn't get as much candy but I told her to look again: her bucket was full of love. Not sure she bought that one.

But my heart was full. It's hard to move away from family and friends, especially after you have kids. But then you find people who love you, and love your kids, and become your family away from home. And I hope that after a few years, THIS will become our quintessential Halloween. I guess if it makes me the mean parent by taking my kids to see people who love them, then I'm guilty as charged.

Lost in Translation

My dad told me years ago to write down the funny words Sassy said because I would forget. NAH! How could I ever forget?! Well, once again, Dad was right and a few years later, I have forgotten not only what she used to sound like, but also the "words" she used. It makes me sad, and then I realize that someday I'm going to forget what the girls are like right NOW. They keep growing up on me. :) So I decided to come up with some words they've used/are using. My apologies to Sassy--I can't remember as much for you! I guess it helps even out the playing field a bit--there are definite other perks to being the firstborn. :)

Sassy-isms:
Wipe-kin=Napkin
GG, JD, Piggy=the progressive names of Sassy's lovey, a John Deere pig
Rock Chalk=sidewalk chalk (my apologies to my Wildcat family, she seriously came up with this herself)
Farties=candy that the rest of us know as Smarties. (My sisters would make her say this and then just ROLL laughing.)
Legpits=the backside of her knees

Stinkus-isms:
Day-Day=Stinkus's lovey, a bear head attached to a blanket
Gug-gug=Drink (we think she was making the gulp sound. It has now become Gink.)
Hemi, hemi!=Hold me, hold me! (I'm going to miss this one a LOT someday. . . )
Sa, Sa-sa, Sassy=the progressive names of Big Sis
Pood, pinger, power, pone=Food, finger, flower, phone (Having some trouble with Fs)
Do Do=Dora
Pocus Pocus!=this is the answer she gives if you ask for the magic word. But to her credit, she uses Pwwwease a lot. :)
What is dat? Dat poop?=If there is a leaf on the ground, marker on her hands, a crayon on the floor, this is the standard response. You'd think the girl had some traumatic experience with poop.
Ginky and pi-whoa=Blankie and pillow. Gotta have both plus a dog named Bo-bo and the above mentioned Day-Day to sleep.

I know there are LOTS more that I've forgotten. But I wanted to get these down because on any given day, Stinkus could wake up and ask to watch "Dora" or say, "Hold me." Or worst--stop asking to be held. . . While I'm thrilled to say that Sassy still uses Piggy and "rock chalk," those days are numbered too. I have to remind myself not to wish for them to stop growing up. I would be devastated if something happened and they didn't get to. But it would be pretty great if I could wave my arms, say "Pocus, pocus" and make time slow down just a bit.

Dream House!

So we've FINALLY found our DREAM house!

three bedrooms/2 baths
2000 sq ft plus a full basement
2 fireplaces
remodeled kitchen
hardwood floors
two car garage
huge yard
lots of trees
dining room
2 living areas

It also has a blue toilet and carpet that needs to be stretched. Yep, folks, we're staying put. Things didn't work out to move. . . or did they? I'm a "sign" person--always looking for things that are meant to be. A few months ago, I just KNEW that we were "supposed" to move. (After all, nuns wanted to buy our house--I mean, if that's not a direct order from the Big Guy, I don't know what is!) Long story short--our buyers fell through and within 24 hours, we found out that the one house we had looked at had a contract. So if that's not a sign, I don't know what is. . . We've since had two other interested parties (and our house has NEVER been on the market!) but nothing has come of it. At first, I wasn't sure what to think. What was that all about? Maybe we were supposed to put our house on the market--this was just the little push we needed. Maybe we were supposed to look for houses in town. Or maybe, we need to appreciate what we already have.

It can be really easy to get caught up in what the Jones have. And I know that people think we're crazy for living where we do. Fifteen minutes from Walmart? GASP! But after looking at what's out there, I realized that we have it pretty good right here. Yes, our house is almost as old as we are but Epiphany #1: New houses become old, and eventually need work too. Epiphany #2: We have a lot of space here that I'm just not willing to give up. We can't afford the space we have in a newer home. Case in point--we found a house online with the exact same square footage on LESS acreage... for $200,000 MORE than we paid. Yes, that comma is in the right place. Granted, the basement is finished and it's newer BUT someday we hope to have a finished basement too--and for less that 200 Gs.

Lately, we've been putting in a lot of time around the firepit with friends and while there are definitely things I hate about living here (blue toilet, copperheads, blue toilet. . .) I can't give up the stars at night, the coyotes howling in the distance, the moon coming up through the trees. It's like God himself is saying, LOOK at what I've given you. So I'm grateful to the nuns. They helped me realize that as with many things in life, everything you want is often right in your backyard. Literally.

Seasons

Every year, I swear I'm going to catch it happening.

I'll see some red or yellow here or there and then seemingly overnight, the green is gone, the leaves have changed and fall is here. I miss it every year. I haven't decided if it's because it truly does happen overnight, or if it's so gradual that I don't notice the changes taking place right before my eyes.

Last weekend, I was with the girls at a local craft fair. A complete stranger stopped to comment on them (I guess they're cute?) and then went on to say what I've been hearing for five years now: "Oh enjoy them, they grow so fast. Mine used to be that little." For the last five years, I've been nodding politely when I hear this but not really believing it. To be perfectly honest, I don't even remember life before children. Five years has, at times, felt like an eternity. Like when someone is puking on me or shooting poop across the room during a diaper change. Or throwing crayons in church (which, by the way, is NOT the ideal time to realize your kid has a great arm.) Or when your newborn wakes up AGAIN--and you immediately start crying because you just don't think you can do it anymore. But you do. And somehow, it's five years later, and you realize those strangers might know what they're talking about after all. It DOES go fast. You can't see it happening, you can't see them changing and growing, but one day you turn around and your babies aren't babies anymore. The newborn phase, the puke, the poop--it all ends. (Notice I didn't say the crayon throwing. We still have a few Sundays where she breaks that out. Sigh.) But like everything else, this too shall pass. I know that too soon the day will come when I'm telling some frazzled, exhausted (and not convinced) mom that it goes fast. I need to remember to stop focusing so much on the trees' new colors, and enjoy the changes it took to get there. Even though I missed it again this fall, there's always next year. But my girls will never be as little as they are today. And those are changes worth noticing.

Heaven on Earth

I remember when I was pregnant with Sassy. We had the nursery painted, the diapers stacked, the little socks balled up in drawers next to onesies. Names were picked out, showers planned, equipment assembled. We were ready. People would tell me how much this little person was going to change our lives and I would nod, knowingly. I KNEW. Or so I thought.

Then she was born. And I realized that nothing could prepare me for what I felt. I know it sounds cliche, but I fell totally and completely in love with this perfect little person who--let's be honest here--may have better resembled a red, hairy monkey. But suddenly I realized what everyone had been saying. You can't possibly know the depth of that love until you're there, watching your life change in an instant. There are truly no words to describe it. And even after experiencing it, I couldn't fully recall the power of that moment until three years later when another hairy little monkey entered my world. It's the most amazing, overwhelming sense of love EVER. And then it dawned on me: what if. . . that's what heaven is like? We hear about how beautiful it is, how amazing it is, and we THINK we know. We imagine our loved ones there. And we take comfort in the fact that they're happy. We read about it, we pray about it, we listen to God's word, we strive to get there someday. But we can't possibly understand the depth of that love until we're there, watching our lives change in an instant.

My family has had to say goodbye to many loved ones--including four who ironically never had the chance to become parents. It's taken me a while to remember that while we selfishly want them here, if heaven is anything like the first few moments of parenthood, they're not missing anything. We just miss THEM. It doesn't make it easier that they're gone, but it does give me peace to believe that they constantly feel what I've known only twice in my life. And I know I'll see them again. Until then, I'll keep enjoying my own little heaven on earth. I've been blessed with two little monkeys and some special angels who look over all of us.