...little 5 letter words...

In 1988, I was in 7th grade. I was the youngest child. I was "active-ish" in school, but my school was small and basically 'no-cut' for almost everything you tried out for. It was nice to be/feel a part of something, so I am not begrudging it. But, at the same time there was very little to do but school and the occasional after school activity. There were no cell phones, no social media, no messenger systems set up. If I was somewhere, I knew I would be picked up at the predetermined time. I lived in a smallish town, it was safe and I was never more than a 15 minute walk from home.

In 2018, I have a 7th grader. He is off season in any extracurricular activities, he  is less than 10 minutes from home at any given time. Tonight, for the first time, he was out by himself without an older brother at a basketball game. Funny how different 2018 is than 1988. He doesn't have a cell phone, neither did I, yet I was nervous. He is only four blocks from home, yet I was nervous. He lives in a smaller town than I did at his age, yet I was nervous. Despite the fact that we predetermined a time for him to be home, I was watching the clock like someone tracking contractions during labor....And cleansing breath.

I would like to think I learned something just by being a parent, but I am also aware that the title of parenting is a marathon, not a sprint. Sometimes, just a difference in perspective can be really eye opening, I am grateful for my husband to give me such perspective when I need it. We were talking about the kids one day, the routine rant about parenting and how I had hoped the kid's TELL ALL book at least was not sporting my face. My husband said something that seriously engrained in my brain, "You have to give them enough independence to prove themselves eventually. How will they ever learn if they do not learn it on their own?" This simple statement was like getting hit on the head by an anvil. While it is slightly cringe-worthy to a 'smother mother,' it is definitely a lesson for the both of us. You send them off, in this case with the lack of technology in their back pocket, completely blind and hope that they will prove within themselves the maturity they have. But moreover prove themselves to you, the person who brought them into this world, during a full moon,  and will take them out without question.

I found myself pacing, looking out the window, wondering if he would be coming back on time or not. I was slightly spoiled with his older brother who would come home 10 minutes before his curfew on the regular. Clearly, I know this will at-some-point end, but experience is what experience is. I thought to myself, with no external connection, how do I know where he is? If he is safe? If he's stealing liquor? But then, looking at the moon in exchange with the clock, I thought of the five letter word echoing through my head. The word that could bond you and your child in a way you might have been longing for since they started their "HELLISH-12s"(it is a thing, no one has the guts to bare to you). I would like to be able to belt it like Aretha, but the word of which I speak of in hushed reverent tones is...TRUST.

This word is dangerous, frightening, inspiring, gut wrenching and at times life altering. It means completely different things as your precious offspring grow up, but the first time you really feel it, deep in your knees, it is not only noteworthy, but there should be a cocktail/chocolate reward at the end...your choice. It is not taken lightly in this house, it has to be earned. Trust is something that can make your heart swell or break it on the turn of a dime. Trust is not a word used often during the phase of the "HELLISH-12s," except when you hear your inner monologue saying, trust me we are going to party like it is 1999 when this phase is over. I pray that we are turning the corner on this phase, but TRUST me in this fact, I know I still have a year left.

...my pretty corner of delirium

Turning the corner into technology, and realizing I am better at making cookies than computers. Nothing makes one feel more out of their minds, out of touch or plain idiotic like trying to use a new computer. My very wonderful husband gifted me a new computer for Mother's Day. It is beautiful and compact, but I have cussed at Siri enough times, even she requested a cocktail. Onwards and upward, I will figure it out eventually hopefully developing a believable poker face before my kids get home from school.

With end of the school year is upon us, I am going to have to get creative with the next 3 months ahead of me. The aspiring students have already pretty much mentally checked out about 2 weeks ago. The field trips, music programs, large projects are now ardently visible in the rearview mirror...all except one more diorama (that is a swear word in this house). But the silence that I currently enjoy now will be only a memory in 11 days. Eleven days to get my game face ready, get some projects lined up and possibly stock the liquor cabinet in hopes I am not backed into a corner.

There is a growing need to move around some subliminal corners and face some new views on life. A high schooler and junior high schooler will be in my midst this summer, some things in life are going to change hopefully for the better. I am constantly told that I, "...don't allow my kids to grow up." This summer is going to test that theory, optimistically without being seen throwing electronics out in the street. I have a list of exciting things I need to workshop around with this crew. We are going to get active or at least be actively trying to do more and couch potato less with our butts and our brains. We might master some cooking skills and learn a language just for starters. I am contemplating making a fake chore chart and daily schedule, so that when my real plan is unveiled it will appear epic. The only way to con a con man is with a con? Possibly, but I am not taking any chances.

Only Nora is playing sports this summer and she's pretty excited about it. She volunteered to be the catcher at the first softball practice, admitting later when she raised her hand she didn't know what was the catcher. She is the tallest one on the team and actually listens to the coaches, thankfully. I look forward to seeing how it all plays out on the field, her personality and her ability. I feel like I talk about her a lot, but I think it is because I wish I was more like her in ways. She goes at every new experience full on thinking, "Well, I'm probably an expert in this so it will be fun..." She never lacks in confidence and frankly has life more figured out than most. She doesn't have corners in her world, just wide open spaces.

I was having a conversation with Oscar, talking about going into high school. He was explaining his schedule and the different things he would need to do. I asked him if he was nervous and he said a little went on to explain why. There is nothing quite like hearing your child understand and recognize lessons they have learned on their own from their past, from their own mistakes or missed opportunities. In this moment I wanted to look around and ask, "Who else heard that?" I was the only one there, but I felt like a corner was turned and unknowingly a Mother's Day gift was given.

Since I started writing this blog, my life has completely changed in so many ways. My characters (i.e. my kids) have altogether changed their character motivation. Despite the fact they don't believe me, I am ecstatic to watch them grow and change into the people they were meant to be. I feel like through this blog I had a lot more to learn about myself. It is very easy to hide behind telling stories about my kids, the hard stuff to write is about myself. But some where through this, I started to say, "Yes". Turning a corner and saying yes to life, to happiness, to admitting struggles, and to believing in myself. I feel like life opens up in a way you not only need but deserve, you just have to say yes.

So, my pretty corner of delirium is has been rebuilt, redecorated and faded away making the way for new lessons and chapters in life. Usually six steps forward only to take two steps back at times, but any lesson worth learning is one that doesn't come easy. For now, this is where I leave you. Maybe the next time we meet I'll be speaking French flambéing something or making some kick ass curry and naan. At any rate, it is time to get out of the corner, see what life has and say yes.

...shrewd business moguls say what?

It is a regular spring occurrence that a bird hits a window. It startles me at first and then I look outside to make sure there were no casualties. My windows are not as clean as they should be, my house for that matter is not as clean as it should be. My kids are not as reverent, polite or quiet as they should be. But for one brief moment in the THUNDER DOME that is mornings around here, I was thankful that some feathered friend thought my window was so clean it was nonexistent...until I went out a couple of hours later and found it dead in front of my mailbox. RIP friend, you made my day, for a few hours. Goals.

So, it got me to thinking, of course instead of cleaning. There are phrases/clichés in life that just exist. Some are clever ways of ending conversations,"...and that was that." Others are meant to be said to give a verbal nod to not know what to say, "...it is what it is." Some are said out of frustration, some are uttered out of lack of understanding and others said so often at this point they have lost their meaning entirely. At any point, if there is one, when will we as humans stop speaking and start doing.

When a baby cries, it is their way of communicating, because they cannot actually take care of themselves. They get older, become verbal, can drink from a glass, yet you are destined at least once to hear, "...can you come wipe my butt..." What? Why are you asking instead of doing it yourself? The older we get we are still like babies, trying to communicate despite the fact that we can accomplish ourselves more if we just acted instead of speak.

There are a few choice phrases in this house that my husband and I have had to come to terms over. Sadly not one of them is, "...mom, you've worked hard, go take a nap," but I digress. These choice phrases, admittedly, I have let fall on deaf ears over the years, but currently they are at an all-time high. There have been a few discussions of banning them all together in this house. Not ironically they are usually spoken about 2 minutes after said discussion. Now, I would find no fault in the following phrases:

I cleaned the bathroom.
Dinner was good (with a clean plate).
The laundry is finished and put away.
I just flossed my teeth.

But, let us be real here...these will never probably happen. I think I would be frightened if it did. The phrases on the docket for banning in this household are as follows:

That is unfair.
I am bored.
I am hungry.

These cyclical phrases are uttered by all of my children no less than 2 times a day each. The hunger comes about 40 minutes after eating, mainly because did not finish the last meal and they are bored. The boredom comes from not doing what they want to do instead of what they need to do, or at least help out. The unfairness in this house runs rampant as various ages should be allotted different privileges. Over time, I know I have just tuned out some utterances whilst being said. I would scoff it off, and mutter something under my breath and move on. But, after a while, it resembles a powder keg. At any given time, I would like to be about a two on the tension scale. Hearing the afore mentioned phrases, it climbs to a nine more quickly than I would like. With the air of spring, there are changes coming. I am lucky and grateful to have high functioning little humans in my midst...it's time to put that to good use.

"That is not mine," almost up there with "I have no idea how that broke." Well, we enter a dicey intersection with these mantras as I call them, as they seemed to be spoken like prayer in this house. New rules: If you have to step over it to get where you are going, pick it up. If it is broken, fix it. Seems like something that should not have to be actually verbalized, but we are keeping it simple around here.

Laundry encompasses everyone. No nudists in this house, well at least not on a daily basis. If someone is bored I guarantee there is a pile of laundry somewhere in this house that needs cleaned, folded or put away. Fighting boredom and being productive, it is like we are living in Neverland without a wardrobe change. In this house there are more wardrobe changes than at a Beyoncé concert....thus the never ending laundry, never ending FUN.

Yard work can be done by all who are upright and walking. No one needs a detailed list of things to help with outdoors, nor do they need to confer with their union president, I am the union president. As I was explaining this to my dear children I told them merely asking to help is the first step, the rest will fall into place (why else would I have no less than 6 rakes in my garage?). Plus, there is the satisfaction they will learn to appreciate after a couple of hours of hard work, or at least I hope.

Lastly, when the above mentioned are discussed the phrase that can follow incites a slight tinge of rage"...how much are we getting paid?" I count to ten, make a mental cocktail, remember that these precious offspring might one day be shrewd business moguls and say, "...more money than you had before you started the job. Mom is going to take a nap."

...when the sugar buzz wears off...

This time of year makes me nostalgic, the fresh breeze, the warming temperatures, the bursting blooms of flowers and trees all around...well, scratch a few of those, but you get what I mean. This time of year everything sort of becomes new again, new color, new hue, beauty where drear once lain. Memories of Easter as the kids were growing. New memories being made with little ones who still devour the magic of this time of year like eating the first Peeps of the season.

I'm excited to celebrate Easter this year. We have lots of food planned, games to play and despite the bender Mother Nature has been on, a ton of eggs to hunt. Sidebar, Easter candy is my nemesis. I imagine it stems from giving it up every year for Lent when I was a kid. Let me just say, I had to sample some of the impending hunt's loot. But, most of all, I'm excited to celebrate together as a family, try some new traditions, eat, laugh and sneak some Easter candy.

My one and only hope through time, traditions and memory making is with every year, even after the magic is lost, the excitement doesn't diminish just becomes renewed. I have enjoyed watching the Talls cultivate Atticus' excitement, like watching a beautiful plant bloom. This year he is very interested in our Easter Eggster, more observant than any other year. Ours is a squirrel who seems to forget to move regularly, thankfully he likes to hang out in our peanut bowl. I think it adds to it's authenticity, and explains my lack of memory. Nora is a wild card on this whole topic. I'm not sure if she's going along for the ride or still believes and doesn't want to look childish to her older siblings. It is a slippery slope of to believe or not believe, and no one wants to ask the question.

So many questions as a parent. Some you want to know the answers, some you fear the answers, some you hope you are never asked. Like the other day when Atti asked if I would have another baby...? Not sure if he wants someone to corrupt or if he was worried about his position/station in this family. I reassured him that no, he was probably going to always be the youngest, unless we adopted a Guinea pig, which by the way will never happen. The puberty video behind us, we hung up the important pamphlet on the fridge, knowing it might shame the owner of getting too technical with his younger siblings. Life is too short to know everything at six...where's the fun in that?


My optimistic goal is to enjoy another holiday together, or survive? Ask me for a status report on Sunday about 5 p.m. Hopefully by then everyone is fed, the sugar buzz has worn off and all either believe in the magic of this holiday or pretend to believe that we are a normal family. From ours to yours Happy Easter making memories with the ones you love.

...yes, my inner voice cusses a little.

We came. We saw. Despite the lack of trying by my offspring, we did not drink the water. We soaked up the sun, had new adventures, talked to strangers, drank overpriced cocktails, ate ice cream every waking hour and bought a few Mexican wrestling masks. Never taking a vacation with my husband before, I learned a lot. He's way calmer than I am. He loves souvenir shops like I do. He can turn any situation that may be going down in flames into fun. He smiles a lot, but not as much as when he's on vacation. And my OCD doesn't annoy him. I was organizing all of our tickets, passports and flight schedules and he turned to me and said, "I have never been turned on more..." We survived a honeymoon with kids...not sure those words have ever been used together in a sentence. Now, back to reality.

I need to start infusing my water or cocktails with GINKO BILOBA. My brain seems to constantly be in hyper drive, yet the cleanliness of my house doesn't really reflect it. I seem to feel like I cannot ever catch up lately. My hope was that when spring came, all would fall into place. It's here but it just isn't quite caffeinated enough for me yet. I look out and see the dreary weather and I just don't have the drive to attack the world. Like an awkward hug from a stranger, I think to myself, "Heart in the right place, but never again? Right? Right."

There are eye appointments to be made, Easter baskets to be filled, Easter cooking lists to be made...Suddenly, I can't make a decision, and my husband would laugh as I am the most indecisive person on earth. And then those things that should be small victories, like being the tooth fairy, I drop the ball. This morning I crafted a left-handed-written note apologizing and slipped a little extra money into the mix for my indiscretion. How many more teeth can she lose? Thankful that she isn't starting to take it personal, as she's the one the tooth fairy always seems to "forget". She'll write all about it later in her tell-all book, The Tooth Fairy that Sucked. Just another Thursday around here, I guess.

Tomorrow is another day, actually on my calendar it is marked PUBERTY DAY. I was given a permission note to sign for Abe to watch the infamous "This Is Your Body" video. As he hands it to me he says, "Hold off on signing that, I want to see if my friends are going to watch it..." I assured him that it probably didn't matter whether they were, he would be watching. Not sure if I was reassured he wanted to make sure his crew was ready for puberty before he jumped into the deep end. The questions might be interesting around here about 3:30 p.m. tomorrow...that reminds me, I need to go to the liquor store.

The rantings of a mother of four have begun to bore me most of the time. I am forever trying to find something for my kids to do, together, that's fun and doesn't require a screen. My standing as a tooth fairy more than slightly besmirched, I'm looking for redemption. My regular stand-by activities aren't as shiny to my offspring as they once were. I find myself finding "projects" for us to do, and my mind immediately ventures. It ventures down the picturesque road of Bitching and Whining, its north of Washington Street, East of Elm. First come the indignant looks, then the complaining and in the end I have to clean up a mess. I've even contemplated asking the very loaded question, what would you all like to do together? Knowing the varied answers would probably not be even close to the low budget lives that my children seem to forget we have.

Bottom line, back from paradise and now I'm in a rut, and I'm not a rut person. So, in the effort to kick this rut to the curb, I'm on hold for the optometrist, scrolling through Pinterest, trying to quiet the voices in my head and find something for us to do. The tooth fairy stayed up too late watching the puberty video, spring has sprung, sort of, and I'm trying to make memories here dammit...yes, my inner voice cusses a little.

...hope you can tread water

When my kids were young, as I was waking at dawn to tap a vein for coffee, starting thereafter to attend to all of their needs, my body was busy, but my mind set adrift to the future. Wiping behinds, pouring milk, cleaning up toys and making snacks, I wondered what life would be like when they all were older and wearing their yoke of independence. I guess I had hoped that I would be different from all of the other moms in the world...my kids would grow into those idyllic kind you see on TV, and appreciate me for all that I do for them. Life is not an after school special and when the pre-teen-angst-axis shifts, (I literally just got chills) you contemplate how much time you wasted wondering, when you could have learned Farsi. You suddenly realize, you've hit the "hormonal highway to hell"...again.

At first I thought it was just exhaustion, maybe they were overtired or even coming down with a bug of some sort. Then the eye rolling began, followed by the lack of following directions, lastly the dramatic stare that stood for something or other...I fell for that trick the first time on my hormonal highway to hell. It was when I said, "Stop acting like a dip-shit," while it was under my breath, I heard it and I knew...we're there, again. It's all starting over again. While the view is different, it smells the same. I've done this once, I can do it again? That really shouldn't be a question as I have to do it three more times, but my inner monologue is a little judgy at times. Sometimes when I think of the hormonal road ahead, I wish I could develop a more atune case of Stockholm syndrome, at least until they're 18. While I will always love my kids, I don't always have to love my captors.

So, flushed with fear and loathing, not really sure if I'm referring to myself or my offspring, I head out armed and hopefully ready for the road ahead. Hey, what about a vacation? It's been years since we've had a vacation, even longer the kind where I don't have to do anything but just show up. Wouldn't it be great to take the kids on our honeymoon? That should have been a trick question, but we're making it one big family festivity. The packing began, much to the amusement of my husband, about 3 weeks ago. Living in the frozen tundra of the Midwest, when would these kids be needing shorts? Then came all of the questions...why do we have to pack that? Why would we need that? Why would we care what you pack, just do it for us. All the while, as I'm trying to maintain my composure, reminding myself that I will be sunning myself and doing absolutely nothing in the near future, I start having flashbacks. It's like PTSD, but a special kind only mothers have with whiny voices and arguments...THERE'S NO WHINING IN PARADISE?!?! I have been known to mention to my kids that they could go off and live with the Amish, but saying that in Mexico, no Bueno. Who am I kidding? I'll be grateful to just get through the airport.

I'm hoping the fresh warm air of some far off destination will change everyone's mindset, mannerisms and mood swings. I'm hoping some vitamin D, lack of electronics, beautiful scenery and possibly a very large cocktail with an umbrella in it, will at least once again align us where the winter season had us in mental fisticuffs at times. I'm excited and planning on taking a much needed detour from the hormonal highway to hell, anyone who isn't interested can swim home.

Groundhog says what?

Getting yanked from a seemingly perfect slumber could be a little alarming, not to mention create the business end of a hissy-fit. It's a lot of pressure to put on someone, then somehow give one's best work, most lucid and rational response. Not even 37 seconds ago you were warm, dreaming of a beach vacation and somewhere along the way you developed a bikini body...yeah, the stuff that dreams are made of. Only to be woken up, for no satisfying reason, other than to have a man declare you saw your shadow.

While the above clearly describes 'ol Punxsutawney Phil, I shudder to realize this actually could be describing my life every Saturday. Being awoken, dozens of minutes before anyone would deem to open their eyes on a weekday, only to be told, "...mom, I'm up." Um, good to know, and is also loosely translated as, "Are you getting up to satisfy my every wanted need?" Groundhog says WHAT? Why? Where? How?

I should tell you this isn't a rant. This isn't some declaration that moms all over the world have the crap end of the stick (read my bumper sticker). This isn't a testament to the wonderful humans I call my children (don't own that bumper sticker). This is a message about time, talent, knowing when to call the fight and when to storm the beaches...however, if I am seemingly pulling off a bikini body, do not wake me, I WILL CUT YOU!

We all have talents, we compliment others on them probably more frequently than we ever would for ourselves. You go out into the work force and clearly your talents are rewarded, I mean you have a job, right? For those who work at home, we secretly know what we are good at, despite the fact that somethings may never indeed echo anything you could put on a resume. Work it. Own it. Be the best damned laundry folder/ cupcake maker/DVR-show-finder out there. You deserve it! Personally, I fold a great fitted sheet, and have also been told that I am a witch, but I digress.

Know when to call the fight. Everyone comes into contact with someone who just get their big time thrills...arguing. I have a few living in this house. I used to engage at first, in what I assume would be a friendly debate. However, despite the fact that they do not pay taxes, kids are all knowing (not on a bumper sticker). As things became unfriendly, I just shut up. What did it matter who won the fight? Call it already and move your happy ass out of there. It's healthy, it's responsible, and boy does it drive my "Great Debater" up a tree...a win/win if you will.

Storming the beaches- man I want a vacation, like a warm, sun shiny, sit on my money maker vacation...sorry. Storming the beaches is when you've sat, listened, waited and debated on when to break up some nonsense. Either you hit your breaking point or you are about to hear someone's face be broken. You walk in, separate and shut it down. Extra points for no words spoken, sort of puts people on point. Truly, this could be done in a house full of kids, or a break room full of employees, your call.

Lastly, I feel it necessary to talk about time. It's unforgiving, fickle, fantastic, terrifying, and educational and only moves forward. It is something that denotes growth, oblivescence and knowing how you got to where you are now. I was reminded in the last month multiple times how much time has changed things, people, feelings and situations. I admittedly was terrified of time at some point. As in would I have time to make it right? Would I have time to understand even if I did? I used to wonder about my kids growing up, now I wonder who turned on the warped speed to life. I can look back at pictures and ponder memories, and genuinely smile. Not because I necessarily, had it all together, not even close. Moreover, time gave me what I have, and that pretty amazing. And, I'm not obtuse enough to think that these kids will be growing up any slower. It does beg me to shout out occasionally, "WARP SPEED? Captain Scotty that Groundhog has never been on the Enterprise!!!"