...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.

..it's going to be a good day...

That moment when you catch yourself smiling, for no real reason. When everything around you suddenly takes on a new meaning, looking at something rather simple and getting a warm feeling. You know the feeling, you've felt it before, but it has been so long it is like staring at a strangers face and instantly knowing them. You want to suppress such feelings because in the past they have been fleeting, artificial or stilted.

Like completing 1000 piece puzzle, you know it is more about the feeling of accomplishment and challenge than the picture that is revealed at the end. The glory is in the process. With the pop of warm sun kissed spring days, everything is in bloom. The dark winter days have faded away disclosing the beauty that was forgotten. The tree's blossoms are starting to show their vibrant color, and it all seems to make sense...like an old forgotten friend.

This time of year used to be my third favorite...this year it is taking top billing. There is no better feeling than looking out the window and seeing the beauty that the season brings. The blooms that decide to open a little more with every minute of the day, cleanse the soul and put into perspective things that you never knew they could. And then you get a phone call that darkens your view with terror, grief and the notion of what you might not have said.

So, there I was, packing suitcases. Never mind that it was just a few days before Easter. Never mind that I was so completely turned around I could hardly think straight. Never mind that I was packing a variety of clothes from "waiting room comfortable" to "funeral". I stood there looking at what was in the suitcase and I couldn't get my head around what might happen. I couldn't understand the notion of someone you love possibly dying, even though I had been in this exact space in the not so distant past. No matter the kind of love you have for someone, when you are smacked in the face of the notion of mortality, the slightest interaction starts to take on an elevated emotion. Did I remember my last conversation with my mom? Did I reaffirm the authenticity of how much I loved her? Could I contemplate the concept of losing her? The answers were: yes, yes and NO. So, scared and afraid, possibly naïve, I decided that this wasn't the end. She would die someday, we all will, but that day wasn't going to be today. She is a tough broad and she is wise beyond her years, this was not the end of her story, not even by a long shot.

Driving seven hours alone gives a lot of time for the mind to wander, and seeing that it is a rarity it was slightly exhilarating. I could actually think, blare the music of my choice, stop only to pee and not have to quell any disputes besides the ones that were scurrying around in my head. I thought about the things I wanted to say to her. I thought about the stories I wanted to always remember about her. I thought about the last conversation that we had, and how she said a few things that were poignant and prophetic. I thought about how lucky I have been to have the parents that I have, and what good role models they have been on parenting. I worried about my dad, knowing that he not only hates hospitals, but has never had to see my mom in such a vulnerable state, ever. I wondered how 50+ years of marriage can bring two souls’ together, fusing two lives in such a way that without one to inhale can the other ever exhale? My father was very scared, but tried desperately to disguise it...his heart was missing a piece and he had no way to fix it.

Fear and sorrow can not only open one's eyes, but also open one's heart to the things that they might have been too stubborn or foolish to admit. It can bring people together just out of the sake of loving someone collectively. It can alter the window that your mind's eye has been peering out of, and then suddenly things all make sense. Thankfully, my mother is a fighter, and she is currently recovering from a very serious heart surgery. She has a long road of recovery ahead of her, but she is one of the strongest women that I know, and I only hope to appear to emulate her, as that is possibly the closest I could get. I am grateful daily for the things that she has taught me and the advice that she has given me, not only as a mother but also as a woman.

My takeaway from all of the above is to remember to be grateful not only for what I have, but for the possibility of having more than my heart could desire because at the end of the day, life is too short. You get this brief blip of time in the world, what you do with it is up to you, and wasting it shouldn't be a viable option. Live life to its fullest, give yourself permission to be crazy happy and wake up every day knowing it's going to be a good day...

Thank you!

Not sure if it is spring that is knocking at the figurative door or not. The temperature is warming, the wind is gentle...it actually SOUNDS like spring outside, it is good for the body and soul and I'm not going to question it...at least not fully. With this burst of spring come along all of the things you almost forgot how to do all winter long. Like riding a bike, you hop back on and suddenly it comes to you...peddle, peddle, and peddle.

Today was actually beautiful enough for the kids to ride their bikes to school. Preteen hairdos conflict with this notion, so Nora was the only one who took me up on the offer. She mounted her bike and said, “I’m going!" For a moment, I was scared. She knows what she's doing, but that mom gene kicked in subconsciously as I remembered a dream I had of her falling off the monkey bars and I couldn't get to her to help. Don't you hate those dreams? They leave you feeling weak, helpless, terrified and knowing that you cannot be everywhere at once. Cut to me circling the block after dropping off the Talls to see if she made it to the school's bike rack...whew, relief!

But this spring, or nearly spring as I know I am getting ahead of myself, strange things are happening. I suddenly have these baby soothing urges. I see or hear a baby crying, and I'm oddly drawn to them. I literally had to audibly talk myself out of helping a grandmother in church the other day who was having a tough go at soothing her grandchild. I didn't know this kid. I didn't know what it liked. But out of nowhere I was flush with feeling the urge to pick this baby up and shush it to sleep...? What the what?

I love my kids, but I don't know if I ever felt like I knew what the hell I was doing when they were tiny. I tried something, crossed my fingers that it worked and prayed I remembered it for the next time it happened. Maybe because my half decade old baby isn't needing lulled to sleep in church? Maybe because I know my baby making shop is definitely CLOSED, never to be reopened? Maybe because I have the confidence mixed with hindsight that I never had when I needed it? Maybe because I could literally hand the child off to their rightful parent when I was finished? It all struck me as odd, I mean I know I'm odd but definitely out of the norm at least for me.

Instead my new norm is wondering, puberty, who's ready? Hormones are raging here and you are lucky if to just stay out of the line of fire. Between the combined hormones of the Talls (terrifying and served chilled straight up) to Nora's new hormones, that somehow have a habit of coinciding with mine...she and I might be a force to be reckoned with one day. Whatever the case, I feel like all the times I was feeling "in over my head..." Yeah, that was just an entry level course. I'm currently enrolled in Parenting-456...an advanced course where the lecturer speaks entirely in a language you can't Google the translation. The constant dance you mentally make of asking questions, but knowing that by asking too many it'll blow your mom-cover. Ignorance is said to be bliss, I’ll get back to you on that.

I found myself smiling yesterday, when I was being assisted in house work by Atticus. Not sure where he was formally trained, but his attention to detail will get him at least a salary increase one day. We moved through the house cleaning and him nearly through a bottle of Windex. When we were finished inside he said, "Next, we need to get out on the porch and get the table cleaned off, we need a veggie tray out there later…" Oh spring, your allure isn't lost on this family and your arrival is just what we needed to quiet the abnormal urges and wicked mood swings. Thank you.

 

...magic

Nora has been obsessed with seeing the Easter Bunny. I'm not exactly sure why? It's not like Santa. He doesn't have you tell him what you'd like in your basket. Nevertheless, Nora was on a mission. I'm not sure if she thought we would be sitting down breaking bread with the Bunny, where over a plate of pancakes he would spin yarns of all the Easters of his past. We woke up early. Had a light breakfast snack. Prayed the puke that Atticus shared on me the evening before was just a fluke. We lined up...to see the Easter Bunny...and get free pancakes.

I can still remember the first spring in this house. Everything was new. Everything that bloomed we'd never seen before. It was beautiful and scary all at the same time. Our first Easter here, we packed up the family roadster and headed to my family in Indiana. Partially because we wanted to spend Easter with them, partially because I didn't want to spend Easter here...it was something I didn't want to have to figure out, alone. Along this journey, I haven't always taken the least obstructed route, but I've had to take the one that would work for me. In that process I have, at times, ran from things that were just too hard to handle at that moment. In the beginning it was my coping mechanism, all the while knowing that some day, the expiration date would come up and I'd have to actually start dealing...but that was someday.

As she stood there in line to get seated for breakfast, Nora stared at the unfortunate employee dressed in an Easter Bunny costume. Thankfully, the costume wasn't freakish, and it didn't seem to deter her from wanting to go up and chat. After a minute in line, she asked if she could go talk to him. I said sure, and asked if Atticus maybe wanted to go with her. Atticus' response was "...I'm staying in line." Nora went up, shook hands with the Bunny, and told him all about her stuffed rabbit named 'Bob'. In that moment it sort of hit me...I knew why she had a slight obsession. I knew why she had envisioned pancakes with this rodent...because she's a kid. And believing in something, even if you know it's a little far fetched, is what it's all about. She knew who she was talking to was someone dressed up, but believing in some magic is what is important.

Driving down the road the other day, it hit me...actually, it was something someone said to me. Walking into a store I saw someone I knew and she said, "...boy, you're brave! Taking all those kids with you?" I smiled (kind of thought "duh") and said, "...yep, every minute of my life..." It occurred to me later, the expiration date that I had been dreading so fiercely, it had come and gone and we were all still standing. I catch myself being comfortable with how my life has become...not terrified about how it's all going to work.

Cone of honesty? That's a lie. Kids terrify the crap out of me with puberty around the corner I might need real meds, but I digress...I know now that running away isn't necessary, accepting change is still difficult, but it's inevitable. I feel like even though were aren't your typical family, the way we work is what works for us. There is yelling, there is "Bear Poking", there are arguments, and there are a few of my kids that I think get tired of hearing their own name. But, then there are the times when we sit, all together, watching mindless TV, laugh our heads off and joke and it just feels like we've graduated. We are no longer a hapless crew, trying to understand the reasons for change, we accept it and know it has made us who we are...it's our little bit of magic.

...this is livin'...

So...there are these days. They sort of sneak up on you. You have a plan, you've set a goal, and it appears you're reaching it. Sure you had to hand out two rounds of Popsicles to get it done. Yes, you had to let your nine year old use hedge trimmers (and he still has 10 fingers score!). Undoubtedly, you had to invent some 'game' so that you could clean out the garage fridge, and rake the front yard...you made it through the first round of things you want to do, and it's only 10:30? SNAP!

Clearly, the Popsicles weren't enough. The 'game' got old, and frankly, the longer the kids were outside, they knew they were in for more chores. Frankly, other than making dinner, I didn't have anything else planned...other than getting dirty. Really dirty, like the kind that leaves a ring in the tub kind of dirty. It was the most beautiful day we've had all year long, and we were going to soak it up, but first a little break.

Belly up to the counter at Steak and Shake were we. Oscar was worried, sitting so close to the workers. I think his direct quote was, "they will see me stuffing my face..." I told him, why should I always get to be the one to enjoy that? In my mind, I took a little picture. I took a picture of them, oddly enough sitting in chronological order at the counter. Watching the cooks, and shake makers do their thing. In my head, I wanted to remember them, sitting there earning their chore's reward. Atticus, he made out like a bandit, a milkshake all for not eating dirt...

Later, Nora and I cut up a little watermelon, she's been begging me for one for months. All the while I knew she'd eat one piece and be done. She ate two, but at some point I did hear her say, "...this is livin'" I started the grill, the smalls started digging (the perpetual dirt pile we need to have so they have some place to dig) and Oscar and I started talking. He wanted to know what we were grilling and could he help. Much to his surprise, I said sure...I mean, he survived hedge trimmers, let's move on to fire, shall we?

After sorting out three meals worth of meat to grill, no one but Oscar and I wanted to be outside. I started a bath for the smalls, and Abe asked if he could supervise. Much to his surprise, I said yes. I told him and the smalls NO SPLASHING and I'd be back in 3 minutes. In the snippets of time spent indoors and outdoors there was quality there. The topic of "Geek-dom" came up with Oscar while he was a grill master. I assured him he wasn't. I told him, he was like his dad in so many ways it was astounding, and he wasn't a geek. I checked on Abe and the tub'o'smalls and they were having a blast being silly and loud enough to wake the dead. The day was crazy, and beautiful, and unlike any one we've had in so very long...there was nothing routine about it.

At the 'meat-o-rama dinner' (as Oscar called it), we talked. We told stories. Oscar's story was about a mom that he saw at his school. "...and you know mom, she had a tattoo on her back right above her pant line? And so-in-so said, well that's inappropriate!" I thought the explanation of a tramp stamp wouldn't be necessary at this juncture...more of a Thanksgiving lesson to be learned. We laughed at each other and talked about what we liked most about the day. In my head, I knew some of them. Atticus enjoyed running in the back yard with no shoes or pants on. Nora liked planting flowers seeds in her flower pots. But, I was the most surprised by the Talls response. Abe liked giving the smalls a bath. Oscar liked talking to me outside...

If we never have another day like this, it would be okay. I was reminded that skirting the routine is not only good for you, but at times necessary. I was proven today, that letting go of control, can not only be rewarding for those who want it, but make life a hell of a lot easier. I lay my head down tonight, knowing that it isn't always about quantity, but the quality that can push you through to the next great day...