Here's to New Beginnings

I have rituals that I do before something big.

I plan.  I fret.  I hope.  I make a to-do list.  I create the ideal image in my mind.  And then, I give it a whirl.

So it was last night that I was up baking banana bread, checking the fridge to confirm we had all the ingredients for strawberry smoothies, laying out uniforms, making peanut butter sandwiches for lunches, writing notes with lots of x's and o's and saying prayers that today would be the perfect day for one little boy to start fifth grade and his sister to dive into third.

Here they are:

God I love them to pieces.

As I type this with my 4-year old Claire Bear at home painting next to me, I can't help but think about how everything is going.  Is their teacher the right fit?  Do they already have homework for tomorrow?  Did they find someone to sit next to at the lunch table?  Are they able to have two recesses because really it's absolutely gorgeous outside?  Will this year be a good one?  Ugh, I'm ridiculous I know.

But as my head hit the pillow last night, I prayed this for them:

May you meet new people and forge real, meaningful connections...the ones where you can truly be yourself, no matter what.

May you stay curious while learning about The Revolutionary War, writing in your dialogue journal and figuring out formulas and equations that are probably too advanced for me.

May you be kind and courageous...always welcoming the one on the playground who wants to be included but is afraid to ask. 

May you soar in ways that you could have never imagined before becoming more passionate and excited about topics and people and moments that make your heart sing.

May you grow a tougher skin learning to become resilient to the things that aren't fair that just hurt and where there are no answers other than...it is what it is.

May you feel loved and safe with each step knowing that we are here to talk, to laugh with, to cry, to keep you grounded and to help you get back up again.

Below is a picture of us..what it doesn't show are the tears on the way to the coffee shop.  Gosh, we're all growing up.  Here's to new beginnings, my not-so-little ones....I love you...mama

Epic Motherhood Fail

Two days ago, I found myself on the kitchen floor, legs curled up to my chest crying.

It had been a day.

It didn't start out so bad.  The kids and I had a fairly uneventful and easy trip to the grocery store.  We piled the cart with plenty of healthy items and then sprinkled it with our favorite treats.

While traveling home, they accommodated my NPR program and quietly read library books while gnawing on Starburst.

It was joyful.  Until it wasn't. 

Somewhere between grilled cheese sandwiches, carrots and chocolate milk, I turned into a raving lunatic.  I could no longer cope with asking them fourteen times to take their plate to the counter, wash their hands, and to stop bothering each other.  I could not contend with the constant giggling, teasing, and non-stop joke telling over and over again.  Imagine that, kids wanting to laugh and tell jokes in the summertime?  And when they started running circles around the kitchen saying the same mundane, ridiculous made-up phrases over and over, I lost my shit.

"G-E-T O-U-T....do you HEAR me?  G-E-T O-U-T of the God damned kitchen!!!  I am through with you!"

Anyone who knows me, knows that I don't curse at my children.  I'm likely to be the one to give you the evil eye if you happen to drop a 'shit' or 'damn' around my little ones.  I just don't tolerate it.  But for whatever reason and really with very little prompting, I could not, I repeat, I could not handle it.

And it wasn't until after washing the dishes and heading into the bathroom, I found my middle child crying pulling out the vacuum from the closet.  Tripping over the power cord, tears streaming down her face, she looked at me and said, "I'm sorry I made you mad, mama...please don't be through with me."

Epic fail.

Fuck me.

To which I threw down my towel and said something to the effect of, "I'm so sorry.  I didn't mean to say those words.  I love you to the moon and back."

Why is parenting so God damn hard?  Why do my decisions matter so much to me?  Argh.

And so there I was knees up to my chest crying....wishing that I knew how to get a better grip, how to not worry so much, how to not stress so much, how to not try to control so much.

I suppose acknowledgement is the first step.  I'm hoping that grace is the second and that ultimately, they won't be laying on their therapists' couch someday recounting this story.  I'm certain that there in for many more doozies with me at the helm. 

Until then, "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.  The courage to change the things I can.  And the wisdom to know the difference."  Amen.

A Good Cry

My kids and I have logged in more hours at the public library than should be acceptable to frequent an establishment...especially when it's free.  The only other spots we may traverse more are the pool and our local Target store.

They are voracious readers and have made it their mission to take on the Summer Reading Program with a dedication that is unparalleled.

So yesterday, we got a new crop of books and poured over them.  Gulping ice cream at the kitchen table, we collectively read a book entitled, "Why Do You Cry?" about a young rabbit turning five years old who's convinced that because of his new age...he no longer needs to cry.  To commemorate the occasion, he decides to host a birthday party, but will only invite friends who are old enough or mature enough to no longer cry.

The squirrel politely declines his invite and tells rabbit that sometimes other animals hurt his feelings and he can't help but shed a tear.

The cat cries out in sadness and shares that the shadows still spook him and he cries out of fear.

The horse confesses that he can't join the merry bunch because sometimes he just doesn't feel good about himself and has to have a good pity party.

Discouraged and alone, the rabbit tells his mama that the party is going to be small as in just him and his mother.

Finally, in a crushing blow, his mother says that she too has to sit this one out.  At any given moment, she can cry happy tears watching rabbit and his brothers and sisters grow up.  She can cry tears of frustration when life just doesn't seem to be going her way and she can cry tears of sadness when it's all just too much.

It's at this moment that rabbit begins to cry and realizes that its okay.

Later that night after dinner and the dishes, I headed out by myself and started to cry in the car.  I didn't know what to attribute it to and in fact the more that I tried to rationalize it, the more the flood gate of tears came.

Sometimes, we just need to cry.  To scream.  To stand in fear.  To cower with doubt.  To be paralyzed in the certainty that it won't work out.  To be overjoyed by a milestone that would never come. To be blown away in utter surprise at a person or an event.  To know that the boogie man is really just in our head.  To feel sorry for ourselves.  To be ecstatic that we dodged a bullet.  To be hopeful.  To feel hopeless.  And then, to let it go and cry.

It feels good.  It's a natural release.  And it doesn't go away the older we become.  Hopefully, age encourages us to access it more frequently, recognizing that we can't control everything.  In fact, we can't control much.  But a good cry makes the world feel right again.