...all about facts...

So, it's Mother's Day. That one day a year when you unwrap things that have to be explained to you. That one day a year when suddenly the small people in your house remember that they indeed were not raised thus far by a pack of wolves. That one day a year when most undoubtedly as a mother, you aren't doing much of anything you'd actually "like" to do and merely saying thank you for all of the above. Except the raised by wolves part, that is pretty much every day of my life, but it's a cautionary tale of motherhood, the likes of which are not for the faint of heart and the moment you see the first reason you became a mother, you know your life will never be the same.

I was given my first Mother's Day gift this morning at 6:25 a.m. while buying doughnuts at the convenience store with Atticus. After picking out every sprinkle covered doughnut we could find, we went to pay, and it seems be paid with less than a compliment. The cashier said, “Is Grandma getting you all the sprinkled doughnuts today?" UMMMM, WHAT? I was quick to say, "...well, happy Mother's Day to me!" As we were walking away Atticus said, "Grandma? What?" My thoughts exactly, pal.

The fact that Mother's Day coincides with commencement weekend at the school where I work and all of the kids' end of the school year festivities, I almost want to say can we put a pin in this and forget about it entirely? Is it wrong that I am too tired to be happy that I am a mother? I love my children, but let's face it, this time of year you are looking for whoever slipped them Jolt Cola when you weren't looking. I fight the urge to yell, CALM DOWN about every 20 minutes to them. I realize that is an oxymoron. It got me thinking about how I could make this day easier.

The phrase that my best friend and I like to coin when necessary, "it's not better or worse, it's just different," comes to mind. This year I wanted to cut a few of my reasons for motherhood off at the pass. I wasn't asking for a grandiose display of motherhood, nothing overly planned or expensive. This year for Mother's Day, I was merely telling what I didn't want. The list isn't long, but poignant and simple...or so I thought.

 I don't want:

*breakfast in bed...coffee in bed...no food or drink in bed-I hope I made the point.

*nothing done that I would normally do myself-no cooking, rearranging, or home maintenance (lawn mowing and babysitting excluded).

 I do want:

*respect-for myself and others

*love-love shown to each other, kind words

*no arguing with me about anything and no arguing with anyone else (yeah, I know, dare to dream)

Will any of these things happen? Will any of these non-gift items be bestowed? Will I get to just sit on my porch in tranquility, peace and quiet? These are all great questions that frankly I'm too scared to answer. I had my tiniest titan fall asleep on my side early, and laughed my butt off with the rest of my kids while curled up on the couch this evening. I wore my kids out today/tonight in the smallest of hopes that perhaps, just perhaps they'd sleep past 6:15 a.m. tomorrow morning...I'm a simple girl.

 For me, it's simple. In fact it's so simple and clearly something I've said enough because I heard Atticus say it the other day, "every day is Mother's Day." It's nothing about fiction and all about facts...The fact that I get to watch these once-so-small-people grow into these totally individual beings is mind-blowing. The fact that I get to be the reason they are in this world telling a joke and totally nailing the punchline. The fact that I get to be the last person they speak to at night and the first person they speak to in the morning...at times WAY earlier than I'd like. The fact that with every mental choke hold they put me into, I know that I get to say with pride, that's my kid...and he's peeing into the street.

 

...dare to dream...

With my "Wildcat Blue" bag packed, I was ready to start off on this new adventure...a job.
Manic is the best way to describe how I felt before starting this job, ask anyone who I'm close with, they'll more than likely attest that I was the closest they've seen near crazy in a while. The chance to start over again is thrilling and terrifying...the chance to do something that I enjoy is indescribable. It's more than just a job, it's a job doing what I like to do, but never been paid.

To grasp the ability to understand that you are being given a chance in a world where you thought you knew what your roll would always be, possibly downplaying it as just what you do...as if being a mom wasn't really a job worth bragging about. The night I found out I was offered this job position, I thanked my kids. When they found out they cheered, hugged and high fived me. I was grateful for their support, probably needing it more than I really wanted to mention to them. After telling them thank you, Nora turned to me and said, "...mom, you make all of our wishes happen, now it's time to make your own wishes happen". To which Abe said, "...wow, Nora...that's deep".

The fact that I'm out of my house, well it's funny to me that I'm getting paid to enjoy it. I noticed after my first two weeks working, it's nice to actually have a name...and people use it. Hearing a child say mom, momma, mommy, MOM...being at work was like a break from reality. Sitting at a computer being slightly terrified about my lack of technical ability, being asked to do things that didn't entail making a meal, snack, cleaning a mess, or breaking up a fight...closely resembles paradise. The chance to do something that I have dreamt of doing at first made me worry, what if it didn't live up to the dream?

The women I work for and with are remarkable. Young, talented, creative, thoughtful, clever and dedicated are how I would describe them. While I am older than they are, they are no doubt teaching me more than they will ever know, besides literally teaching me how to everything else. I'm impressed by their passion for their job, and their understanding of the college we work for. They have seriously eased me into going back into the realm of the work force, and my gratitude to them is unfailing. I'm only hopeful that someday I can keep up with them.

My decision to go back to work always weighed on the notion that the right job will come along when it is time. I knew eventually, if I was patient something would come along. I seriously feel like it was an opportunity given to me that I couldn't pass up. I'm starting to realize that life sometimes gives you things to possibly reward where you've been. I have an ongoing joke with a wonderful friend that she and I are "shit creek" survivors. As if it were some actual destination that we stumbled into and we've slowly been trying to find out way out of it. I feel like the opportunities that I have today, I probably would never have been given if I hadn't had to wade through the creek a while to learn a few things out about myself and life.

Even though it's not how I planned my life to end up, I'm so glad I am where I am today. My silver linings, lucky for me are more visible now than ever. My friends-who've seen me through shit creek, thank you. You have given me the courage to keep going, your willingness to help me make this all work, and your love that I cherish. My kids, even if the pre-teen-terror has started- thank you for showing me who I can be, believing in who I am, and reminding me how grateful I am to be your mom. The fact of the matter is, sometimes you have to dare to dream...take the dare, and enjoy the adventure.

Detachment from reality, party of 5?...your table is now ready...

I watched as a little boy was walked from preschool to daycare...my heart ached and my eyes welled with tears...was I ready for this? Was I ready to let go? Was I ready to contemplate Atti taking that same walk? I'm programmed differently. My self-worth is not a job outside...my self-worth is indoors, in a laundry room or answering questions from a seated position on the toilet...while I was only going in for an interview, was I ready for what might come of it?

 Let me first just say, I am lucky. Since my first child was born Jason and I always agreed that someone should stay home with our kids. Was it always easy? No. Did it mean we went without some things? Yes. Was it at times maddening? Yes. But, it was something we always said was important to us. After Jason passed away, none of that changed. It's been difficult to budget things, but really nothing has changed, and for me, it was one less thing to worry about. It was one less thing in our lives full of immediate change that didn't really have to. It was possibly delaying the inevitable, but it was what I knew. I am grateful to get to stay at home with my kids. I get to do things with them any time of the day, and while at times it is exhausting I am so blessed to be able to do so. It is where I find my pride, solace, it is my business card...my kids.

 Cut to me, going in for my first job interview in 14 years...I'm older, yielding an antique skill set, and completely out of my wheel house knowing how to sell myself. While it is a job that would be exciting and fulfilling, basically a job I have been secretly wanting for years...my self-worth has never come from a paycheck or a title.  I felt like I was impersonating myself at times. I felt so conflicted that I prayed it didn't show on my face. On one hand I know that I will have to be joining the work force outside of my pretty brick house. But it's a slightly terrifying notion to think of all that will be changing when and if that does happen. As I left the morning of interviews I wondered, would I be able to pull any of this off? "Detachment from reality, party of 5?" your table is now ready...

My mind raced to the countless hours in the past as a stay at home mom that I half longed for adult interaction. It was quickly thwarted by the notion of Atti spending his out of school hours with someone else. Was it guilt or OCD that had me teetering? In the hours before the interview I felt like I was going to puke...nerves, fear, and anxiety set in. In messaging my best friend April I found the phrase that would push me through the rest of the morning, I literally chanted it in my head. It was simply this, "...I know this is scary, but you have made it through far worse..." She was completely correct. If this was meant to be it will be. If it isn't, I'm still going to never get to pee alone.

 I was asked during the interview about my worst trait. While I mentally cataloged the multitude that I have, my mind briefly brushed over the notion of change. And I realized in that moment, the horizon has changed. The view from my window while still the same, everyone is now tall enough to see out of it. I cannot confine or hide behind being just a stay at home mom any longer. I'm not betting on getting the job I interviewed for, I did make sure to thank my interviewers for the opportunity to be interviewed. While I might not be in the workforce saddle yet...it might be time to saddle up to some change...

...know how to aim...

...there's nothing quite like watching what you had for dinner come out of one of your children five hours later...really makes you rethink your nutritional goals. This week I was reminded, as sometimes you need to be, of what it must have been like to live during THE PLAGUE...Okay, not the plague, more like the Asian Flu of 1958. At any rate, sometimes you have to be looking/listening/sensing intently on your children, possibly trying to utilize your cat-like-reflexes with a puke bucket, to really notice things about them. Sure any other time, during normal daily life, you look at them, you see them...but laying with them, watching and listening to them breathe, you notice a lot more. Sadly our episode of malaria lasted longer than I wanted, but about the time where I was mentally/physically sick of seeing chunky bodily fluids...it ended.

Now it should be said, I am fortunate. I have kids that know how to aim and get them selves where they needed to be to get sick. Every time I heard the toilet flush, I said a little thank-you-prayer that they were to THIS point in their lives. Not old enough to shave but old enough to take care of business and know the drill of being sick. It is the other two I have, for some reason would like to reenact a scene from the "Exorcist" every time they throw up. A simple head in the bucket is just too much, not understanding why once covered in ick, I need to shower them off. Lastly, why candy should ever be consumed less than 24 hours after losing their lunch. Thankfully, our next outbreak of cholera, we'll be more practiced for this.

It was midway through the typhus outbreak that I took my yearly notice...these kids are growing...to fast. Oscar is as tall as I am, and the rest are quickly catching up as well...there goes my street cred. And as always, I noticed it with Atticus. As I lay there in his bed, praying not to get puked on again, hoping he can get some rest, I see him in his night light lit room. Speaking to him gently, telling him to just try to rest and that I would stay for a bit. Listening to him softly drift off, and noticing his profile I realize he looks/sounds the same as he did almost 4 years ago when he was a baby. I laid there thinking to myself what every wiser, more mature veteran mother has told me, "...enjoy this time..." Usually, I think, um why the hell would I want to? But in that moment, in that barely lit room, I laid there and looked at this kid. I wondered, what the heck? What is this kid going to be like? What is this kid going to be into? Who is this kid going to act like (the million dollar question)? And will this kid ever know how much he is loved?

That's the thing about Atticus...I'm technically the parent, but he has three others as well, one mother and two father hens. They comment when he's done something well, they let him know when he's not acting appropriately. They usually use him as their flying monkey when I'm out of  the room because he's the lightest. It was only tonight however, they and I didn't know how to react when he said at a commercial on TV "...well, that's bull shit..." Stunned silence. I wasn't pleased to have heard what he said, but I, much like the kids, found it so very odd to hear it coming from his mouth. We all sort of looked at each other like, okay he didn't say that. Ten seconds later he said, "...I said that was bull shit..." OKAY, heard that one! As I was trying to tell him that those were not words he should be using, the other three hens were chiming right it, giving him whats for...I was baffled and trying not to laugh actually.

This week has been long. This week has been tiring. This week has been a phenomenal advertisement for laundry detergent. At times this week could have gotten me early acceptance into the Betty Ford Clinic, but at least the worst is behind us. While at times this week my parenting skills have been questioned/debated/despised by my offspring, tonight I appreciated our tag-team-hen-parenting-approach. It's not ideal. At times by me it's not always preferred. But, it's got us where we are four years later, and he's still alive to tell the tale! So here's to the next round of yellow fever fate decides to throw at us...while it might possibly take us out...by then we'll all know how to aim!

...the decade...

Ten years ago today I was eager to finally see the alien I had been lugging around next to my bladder for the last nine months. My bag was packed, baby clothes picked out, and my midnight induction was scheduled. I was blissfully uniformed of what life would be like with two children under the age of 2. I was blissfully oblivious of how big this baby was going to be. I was blissfully unfamiliar of how this child, much like all my children before and after him, would steal my heart. I was blissfully unaware how, ten years later, different life would appear. Time marches on, and a decade later life did as well...

Even as I was typing this, I had to take a break to wipe some one's behind. Ten years ago I would never have ever dreamed I would have THIS many children. We were so very lucky to have what we already had...but the forth coming blessings were just that, blessings. While I'm forever outnumbered, the fact that I no longer have a child in diapers brings euphoria. A decade of diapers will give you that. I've never been one to mourn the growth of my children, I was never a baby person. I do however mourn the notion that I probably didn't appreciate the smallest of moments or milestones they had when they had them. Quite frankly, I didn't have the time...thankfully, there's always ginkgo biloba.

With every birthday milestone of my children, I consider it a milestone for me as well. Not to steal their thunder, but let's face it, I didn't sell them to the circus, so we're all winners aren't we? With every birthday, I'm reminded of how far they have come, and how exciting it will be to watch where life leads them. This decade we're celebrating for Abe tomorrow has been nothing short of epic. He has produced hundreds of stories, cracked a million jokes, and continually amazes me with his heart and his ability to use it. Never the pessimist, he can turn even the most swear inducing situation into a joke, and I am grateful at times for his capacity so to do. He understands more about life that most kids his age, and yet has never asked me if Santa Claus is real. He is a very unlikely middle child, who has his ornery tendencies, but what 10 year old doesn't? He at times is my instigator, my sweetheart, and my rock. Understanding that life is what you make of it, and if you want expensive shoes, you buy them yourself.

But thinking over 10 years...it's sort of easy to get lost in it. I would have at one point only looked at the sadness endured or the struggles encountered. Those are always going to be there, but they're not in the forefront. While my best friend April was recently visiting, we had our routine heart to hearts every night. She mentioned something to me, that even sort of shocked me. She said, "Usually, at some point in our visits, you say when am I going to figure this all out...and you haven't..." To me, that was the highest of compliments, the kind only people you love as much as I love her can give. The blinding fact that hit me is that I don't really dwell on that anymore. Seeing the silver lining in things is how I am, but wondering when the race will get easier is just being human. I don't have to have everything figured out, because sometimes in life things just have to fall into place organically to make them work.

I heard a comment a few weeks ago while at the movies with my kids. And while I've washed about 100 loads of laundry, made countless meals, played the role of Wonder Woman while playing action figures with my tiniest, it has still stuck with me. The comment went something like this; If you only do what you can do, you'll never be more than you are. If you think about it, it's a pretty powerful statement. I think it fastened to my memory because it reminded me of my children, our life, how we try to live day to day, and especially Abe. This decade, while it has taught us all a lot, is only the beginning of our story...and thankfully there will be many more.

...hopefully nobody saw...

...why do I start days like today in any other way than "...it's Thursday"? The fact that it is Christmas Eve, a full moon, and clearly where bizarre world meets chaos world somewhere in the nexus of the universe..."...it's Thursday" would have just made more sense.

Getting anyone anywhere in this house is like some TSA video of what could possibly go wrong. Mind you, if we are just going no where, we get there, no drama, anarchy or blood shed. If we have to be somewhere by a set time...forget it. Someone hates their shirt. Someone can't find their belt. Someone doesn't like their hair. Someone isn't tall enough...the list goes on. I even try to trick myself by pretending we need to be there earlier, all will run smoothly...never.

Now, today, like most holidays of this quarter, was spent with me nearly having a nervous breakdown of one more damned thing broken in this house that I don't know how to fix...Deep breathes were taken, gum vigorously chewed, and the announcement given that if one more expensive thing gets broken in this house, I'm out...they can just go it alone. Crazy threat I know, but seriously much better than the things running through my head earlier. So, I had a cocktail.

Tonight was different. It was Christmas Eve...I had signed us up to be greeters, readers, and Nora got to play the piano...all within 2 hours...seems easily accomplished. I thought I had bitten off more than I could chew when Atticus began giving death glares to anyone walking in. He then proceeded to spend the next two hours not so subtly letting anyone in a 4 foot radius know he didn't want to be there...Merry Freaking Christmas kid, was what it looked like people were thinking...I know I was.

Nora did a great job. She's sort of an interpretive piano player, and her piano teacher is very patient. Oscar did well reading, even though it looked like it freaked the bejesus out of him to do so. He was paid a few compliments on how much guts it takes to get up there and read. I'm not sure if it's pushed him into a new calling. But the most reverent part of the evening...the one time all year that you know probably holds a special place in some one's heart who attends church...the carrying of the baby Jesus to the manger...hopefully nobody saw...

Originally, Atticus was asked to carry the baby Jesus statue. I thought what a cool thing he gets to do? About 2 minutes into church and I thought, OH HECK NO is that going to work. Nora was bestowed the honor to which she high-fived an invisible person when she was told. Now, I didn't think I had to tell Nora what to do, she's seen it done before. She knew what an honor it was...It wasn't until she was walking the baby Jesus down the aisle and having it wave at everyone...Yeah, explanation was clearly needed...and yeah, people saw. I doubt we get asked next year. But, this year everyone was made to understand the notion, Jesus was friendly at birth*...Merry Christmas to you from our baby Jesus waving family...



*thank you Strock

...chocolate covered orange slices...

Time. I look at that word and it means a million things to me. This last month, time has been almost a curse word in the effort of finding more, using it wisely, and watching it fly past you like a screaming fire truck. But also, in the hustle and bustle of getting all of the "things" you think you need to get done during this time of year. "Time" has sort of  gently slapped me in the face a few frequently...like someone being awoken from an accidental sleep. "Time" has been reminding me of a few things that are just taken for granted in this house, not purposefully, merely in the effort to move forward.

I have this tiny human in my house. He is thoughtful, quiet at times, creative, curious, mischievous, stubborn, and at the heart of it all very loving. Today he came up to me, and I asked him what was wrong. He hugged me around the leg and said, "...nothing, just loving on you". He isn't old enough to know that it's uncool to show affection to his mom. He isn't old enough to understand that I'm all he has had in the way of a parent. He couldn't possibly remember his dad, of whom he takes after so greatly. I find myself wondering how in the world is it possible he's grown so much. Counting time has become a different process for me. It's before our life changed and after. It's hard for me to imagine that Atticus is the same age Nora was when Jason passed away. All this time, time...makes me wonder what might have been.

I feel like I've been given these little gifts lately...filling a void in the most unlikely of places. Someone will say something to me, or I will hear my kids say a phrase, and it seriously reminds me of Jason. I sit and think sometimes, I wonder what life would have been like with 6 people in this house...I cannot get to that point. It's like we had to start living our lives, and it's really all we know anymore. All the while understanding that moving forward didn't mean we weren't occasionally looking in the rearview mirror...but it's like we don't have to or it's unnecessary. Our lives are what they are because we have each other. Our memories are what we have made and continue to make together...however, the ever subtle nudges I get ever so gently, I know I'm being given a sign that someone on the other side is paying attention.

I am mentally making myself slow down...slow my mouth...slow my temper...slow my answers...slow my "time" down. I'm only going to get this time with my kids once. I'm only going to see the magic of this season in their eyes for a few more years. I'm only going to understand that what comes out of my mouth will really be what makes or breaks an evening. As I was putting Nora to bed tonight she asked if I would want to write a book for kids. I said, well I didn't know, I wasn't a kid and maybe I would need her help since she is. She said, "...well, the first thing I want to write about is how if you mess around at the dinner table and spill your milk, your mom is probably going to get pis....wait, I can't say that word, but I know you really were..." And, I mentally made a NOTE.

I feel like for the first time in a long while, my kids understand what this time of year is about. Maybe it's because there are more of them in school? Maybe because they are at an age where they understand our dynamic? My kids came home a little late from school the other day. Oscar walked right in, and put something in my stocking. I figured it was a school project that he fashioned into a Christmas treasure. As I was opening up Nora's said school-project-Christmas-treasure tonight, he asked if I wanted to open my gift in my stocking. I said I would wait. He then went on and on about how he spent his own money not at school to buy this gift, and they all went after school to get it...? I saw the pride on Oscar's face, a glint in his eye I hadn't ever seen before. They all were looking at me grinning, as if they all had this secret. I said, "...O M Gosh, you bought me chocolate covered orange slices?!" And they all started cheering!

In that moment...I felt like I was given possibly the best Christmas gift of all time. The notion that my kids, first of all, listened to anything I might have mentioned I liked. Found the money, perhaps that I didn't confiscate from the laundry. They went into a store, with the intention of making a purchase not for themselves. To me...that was a gift better than time...better than anything I will probably get this year, because it was a gift that was given straight to my heart. Someday, I hope my kids read this and understand that I know I'm not perfect. I know I mess up a lot. I know my temper is like that of someone at a wrestling match. But the one thing I do that is the most important thing, more important than time could ever give me...is loving them.