Envision me
feverishly typing this out
while headphones are blaring noise into my ears
that is far preferable to the sound of my children
incessantly fighting over the "right way" to create balloon ninja balls filled with flour and water...
a Pinterest project gone semi-wrong.
***
It really started out as such a beautiful Tuesday. I awoke to my alarm with no need for snoozing. Grabbed my running shoes. Clocked a strong run. Came home to even stronger coffee and hope for the day.
And then, boom, the fates descended.
My husband broke the news that we needed to put a new starter in our beloved Honda. Okay, that's fair. It's been good to us for many, many years.
While making my way to the shower, my five-year old decided to slam the door on her sister and broke off the door knob saying, "How did that happen?"
And then, a quick trip to Target for a few minor things that turned into two bags worth...one bag of which I apparently left with the cashier that had the two things I really needed. Fuck me.
No energy to go back, I warned all three of my children to (in no uncertain terms), please knock it the fuck off, only to discover that one of them threw a "flour ninja ball" at the other, exploding pasty shit in my living room while smooshing a macaroni noodle into my couch, as the third screamed, "Don't hit me!!!!" and the middle one said, "It wasn't super hard. Stop being annoying and a little tattle tale."
I am hiding in the corner for the remainder of the day.
Not because I question whether I can handle it....but because sometimes, moms need really long, enduring time-outs too.
The truth is that we're tired of doing the right thing. We're exhausted by saying the same things over and over again only to be pre-meditatingly ignored by the very beings we sacrifice our all for and well, we just don't have it in us anymore...and yes, we're well aware that it's only Tuesday.
And so, my music blares while I bake brownies that I will eat with a fork by myself in the kitchen and not share (until someone discovers them and eventually, I feel guilty enough) and I will hug them and they will hug me and we will forget that this shit was an issue.
We just need a reboot.
Showing posts with label End of Summer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label End of Summer. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 9, 2016
Sunday, August 7, 2016
June Cleaver
Two weeks from tomorrow, summer ends.
It's a bittersweet feeling for certain.
Our summer has been chock-full of traveling, swimming, garden tending, free library making, ice cream inhaling, Lego building, sleeping way lating, sibling fighting, mama yelling, friend laughing, beautiful, chaotic, good times.
Two weeks ago, I took my brood along with my niece and nephew on an epic 1500+mile road trip by my lonesome, and so this weekend, my better half returned the favor and took the crazies on a dad's and kids camping trip.
I was elated to have the space and coveted breathing room. I ran, cranked up the music, shaved my legs, drank too much wine and coffee, stayed in my pajamas until I felt compelled to change into yoga pants, spent time with friends and then made my way into my office.
Above my desk...I have these three mantras:
And while I was organizing Sam, Kate and Claire's school supplies into neatly arranged bags and bags within bags and labeling them with a sharpie marker and making notes to not forget socks for Claire's uniform or a ruler for Sam's pencil bag or Kate's rosary, I started to cry.
This is it.
Nine years of this full-time, stay-at-home thing is winding down.
And really, how did I get here?
My undergraduate degree is in philosophy from a liberal arts institution, my graduate degree is in conflict resolution from an even more liberal arts entity, I practically make my children wear tattoos on their arms that say, "Love is love is love is love." I was hoping against all hope that Bernie would rise with the collective and have a fighting chance to earn the nomination. I am incessantly advocating for the underdog. My heart is alive and happy when inclusion and love are present for all and I'd give nothing more than to live in a world without guns (even the Nerf ones).
And so, the idea that I left my career as a mediator nearly a decade ago to make macaroni and cheese and read "Good Night Moon" and then Junie B Jones and then Harry Potter and sent my kiddos to Catholic school and carved smiles into the peanut butter sandwiches and cried at every preschool recital and religiously asked them at the breakfast table about their dreams and if they were happy in their hearts...feels like a far cry from my mantra, "Take the Risk."
As I look back, I guess I'm more like June Cleaver than Gloria Steinem...which I can promise you, I never thought would be the case.
But as the tears were flowing down my face looking at the Crayola markers lined up and the composition notebooks in a row, this was sticking out of a stack of papers wobbling on a book shelf.
It's a haiku that my son, Sam wrote many a moon ago:
It's hard to read but it says:
A Haiku for you
Mom you are so great
You get me through
Ups and downs
I love you so much!
And in that moment, I knew. I did take a risk. Even though I wasn't aware year over year of exactly what I was doing, I was hopeful that my 'why' mattered enough to keep trying. And after countless tears and I'm sorry's and prayers and girl chats over wine and half marathons, I realized that I was living by design and indeed, via osmosis, I was choosing joy of a different kind. It's the kind of joy that emerges slowly, steadily, ordinarily, quietly and now, nearly a decade later, I can say enduringly.
But it's still hard, there are days when I want to be entrenched in a protest that has nothing to do with battling my five-year old to brush her teeth or go the fuck to bed. There are moments, when I see movements or career paths that seem exhillarating and I think, yes, I'll get my PhD in THAT and then, I quickly realize that for now, tuition dollars belong to my children. And, that's okay.
I have a feeling that life is going to crack wide-open very soon and with it, I will too. Finally, able to breathe and process where I am, which is a strange amalgamation of June Cleaver and Gloria Steinem wrapped in one woman, who takes unconventional risks, seeks to live by design and in spite of herself, chooses joy.
It's a bittersweet feeling for certain.
Our summer has been chock-full of traveling, swimming, garden tending, free library making, ice cream inhaling, Lego building, sleeping way lating, sibling fighting, mama yelling, friend laughing, beautiful, chaotic, good times.
Two weeks ago, I took my brood along with my niece and nephew on an epic 1500+mile road trip by my lonesome, and so this weekend, my better half returned the favor and took the crazies on a dad's and kids camping trip.
I was elated to have the space and coveted breathing room. I ran, cranked up the music, shaved my legs, drank too much wine and coffee, stayed in my pajamas until I felt compelled to change into yoga pants, spent time with friends and then made my way into my office.
Above my desk...I have these three mantras:
And while I was organizing Sam, Kate and Claire's school supplies into neatly arranged bags and bags within bags and labeling them with a sharpie marker and making notes to not forget socks for Claire's uniform or a ruler for Sam's pencil bag or Kate's rosary, I started to cry.
This is it.
Nine years of this full-time, stay-at-home thing is winding down.
And really, how did I get here?
My undergraduate degree is in philosophy from a liberal arts institution, my graduate degree is in conflict resolution from an even more liberal arts entity, I practically make my children wear tattoos on their arms that say, "Love is love is love is love." I was hoping against all hope that Bernie would rise with the collective and have a fighting chance to earn the nomination. I am incessantly advocating for the underdog. My heart is alive and happy when inclusion and love are present for all and I'd give nothing more than to live in a world without guns (even the Nerf ones).
And so, the idea that I left my career as a mediator nearly a decade ago to make macaroni and cheese and read "Good Night Moon" and then Junie B Jones and then Harry Potter and sent my kiddos to Catholic school and carved smiles into the peanut butter sandwiches and cried at every preschool recital and religiously asked them at the breakfast table about their dreams and if they were happy in their hearts...feels like a far cry from my mantra, "Take the Risk."
As I look back, I guess I'm more like June Cleaver than Gloria Steinem...which I can promise you, I never thought would be the case.
But as the tears were flowing down my face looking at the Crayola markers lined up and the composition notebooks in a row, this was sticking out of a stack of papers wobbling on a book shelf.
It's a haiku that my son, Sam wrote many a moon ago:
A Haiku for you
Mom you are so great
You get me through
Ups and downs
I love you so much!
And in that moment, I knew. I did take a risk. Even though I wasn't aware year over year of exactly what I was doing, I was hopeful that my 'why' mattered enough to keep trying. And after countless tears and I'm sorry's and prayers and girl chats over wine and half marathons, I realized that I was living by design and indeed, via osmosis, I was choosing joy of a different kind. It's the kind of joy that emerges slowly, steadily, ordinarily, quietly and now, nearly a decade later, I can say enduringly.
But it's still hard, there are days when I want to be entrenched in a protest that has nothing to do with battling my five-year old to brush her teeth or go the fuck to bed. There are moments, when I see movements or career paths that seem exhillarating and I think, yes, I'll get my PhD in THAT and then, I quickly realize that for now, tuition dollars belong to my children. And, that's okay.
I have a feeling that life is going to crack wide-open very soon and with it, I will too. Finally, able to breathe and process where I am, which is a strange amalgamation of June Cleaver and Gloria Steinem wrapped in one woman, who takes unconventional risks, seeks to live by design and in spite of herself, chooses joy.
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Ready for the End of Summer
Maybe it's because this week the temperature is in the 90's and the humidity is off the charts.
Maybe it's because I've secured all of the school supplies, the uniforms, and the lunch boxes.
Maybe it's because my 7 and 9-year olds have been fighting with each other like it's their job.
Maybe it's because we've gone to the children's museum, the zoo, the art museum, the library, the park, the pool...ridden our bikes, made sand castles, gone on treasure hunts, played at the splash pad, drank smoothies, hosted play dates, crafted popsicles, caught fireflies, harvested our garden, lit fireworks, made memories with friends and family, slept in, watched movies, and in general, done just about everything that summer has to offer.
And maybe it's because I think we are indeed the last Catholic school to go back to school in our town.
So, today after running to Target for the umpteenth time, locating their favorite goodies for lunches to be made next week, getting the car gassed and washed...I lost it on the drive home.
"I said STOOOOPPPPP fighting with each other. Don't you realize that you only have a few days left before you're going to be apart from each other in separate classrooms all day long and you won't get to play whenever you want?!! And that our evenings will be consumed with homework, flag football, scouts, ballet and brownies? Why do I always have to yell to get you to listen to me? I am done. Knock it off."
Just as the car went silent, my phone beeped. I had a text from a friend who was nominating me to take part in the ALS (Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis-a terminal neuro degenerative disease ) Ice Bucket Challenge...a viral challenge where people dump a bucket of ice over their heads and donate money in support of finding a cure for the devestatingly horrible disease of ALS. Please check out their website...www.alsa.org to raise your awareness and learn how you can help.
And so, I told my children, "Hey...would you like a free opportunity to dump a bucket of ice water over my head?" to which they flew into the kitchen, grabbed all the ice they could get and filled the bucket. The problem was teaching my 7-year old how to video and to make sure that my 9-year old could lift the bucket. They filled it to the brim. On our way out the door, the handle broke and sent a quarter of the water all over the floor, but there was still enough left to do the job.
Here's the footage...
In the end, they got their aggression out and I cooled off. It was a win, win for all of us. That said, I'm still ready for smores, sweaters, red, orange and yellow leaves and a little God blessed time to myself.
Maybe it's because I've secured all of the school supplies, the uniforms, and the lunch boxes.
Maybe it's because my 7 and 9-year olds have been fighting with each other like it's their job.
Maybe it's because we've gone to the children's museum, the zoo, the art museum, the library, the park, the pool...ridden our bikes, made sand castles, gone on treasure hunts, played at the splash pad, drank smoothies, hosted play dates, crafted popsicles, caught fireflies, harvested our garden, lit fireworks, made memories with friends and family, slept in, watched movies, and in general, done just about everything that summer has to offer.
And maybe it's because I think we are indeed the last Catholic school to go back to school in our town.
So, today after running to Target for the umpteenth time, locating their favorite goodies for lunches to be made next week, getting the car gassed and washed...I lost it on the drive home.
"I said STOOOOPPPPP fighting with each other. Don't you realize that you only have a few days left before you're going to be apart from each other in separate classrooms all day long and you won't get to play whenever you want?!! And that our evenings will be consumed with homework, flag football, scouts, ballet and brownies? Why do I always have to yell to get you to listen to me? I am done. Knock it off."
Just as the car went silent, my phone beeped. I had a text from a friend who was nominating me to take part in the ALS (Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis-a terminal neuro degenerative disease ) Ice Bucket Challenge...a viral challenge where people dump a bucket of ice over their heads and donate money in support of finding a cure for the devestatingly horrible disease of ALS. Please check out their website...www.alsa.org to raise your awareness and learn how you can help.
And so, I told my children, "Hey...would you like a free opportunity to dump a bucket of ice water over my head?" to which they flew into the kitchen, grabbed all the ice they could get and filled the bucket. The problem was teaching my 7-year old how to video and to make sure that my 9-year old could lift the bucket. They filled it to the brim. On our way out the door, the handle broke and sent a quarter of the water all over the floor, but there was still enough left to do the job.
Here's the footage...
In the end, they got their aggression out and I cooled off. It was a win, win for all of us. That said, I'm still ready for smores, sweaters, red, orange and yellow leaves and a little God blessed time to myself.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Last Moments of Summer
By now, most school aged children have gone back to the classroom.
We're one of the last school communities to head back.
With five days left until school starts, we're cramming in everything...swimming, swinging/sliding at the park, bike riding, ice cream eating, garden tending, library going...and I have to say that it's sweet and painful in the same breath.
We purposely planned very few activities this summer. We wanted to fly by the seat of our pants and enjoy the moments. It was a gamble knowing that we could all go insane without much of a schedule.
But to our surprise, aside from the normal times of sibling rivalry, we all seemed to do more than fine.
Our oldest is headed into second grade and our middle one is going into kindergarten. And even the kindergarten program is a half-day (well, more like a three hour) experience. So, not super committal.
But my heart feels heavy trying to savor them, trying to remember these times.
And so today at the park, while they gathered sticks and pine cones to make a village in the sand, I watched them, took a mental picture and begged God to help me remember them just like this.
It was perfect for a brief moment...until Sam kicked Kate's castle down, Claire got sand in her eyes and the little boy playing along side them pooped himself and stunk up the joint.
Ah, summer is officially coming to an end.
We're one of the last school communities to head back.
With five days left until school starts, we're cramming in everything...swimming, swinging/sliding at the park, bike riding, ice cream eating, garden tending, library going...and I have to say that it's sweet and painful in the same breath.
We purposely planned very few activities this summer. We wanted to fly by the seat of our pants and enjoy the moments. It was a gamble knowing that we could all go insane without much of a schedule.
But to our surprise, aside from the normal times of sibling rivalry, we all seemed to do more than fine.
Our oldest is headed into second grade and our middle one is going into kindergarten. And even the kindergarten program is a half-day (well, more like a three hour) experience. So, not super committal.
But my heart feels heavy trying to savor them, trying to remember these times.
And so today at the park, while they gathered sticks and pine cones to make a village in the sand, I watched them, took a mental picture and begged God to help me remember them just like this.
It was perfect for a brief moment...until Sam kicked Kate's castle down, Claire got sand in her eyes and the little boy playing along side them pooped himself and stunk up the joint.
Ah, summer is officially coming to an end.
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