An Even Dozen

Somehow the clock ticked right by number 11 and struck midnight.

I have been sadly absent from this blog for a while, but I'm determined to pick it back up and let it carry some memories through time so that I will remember life's little - and big - moments far into the future.

Last year my oldest daughter turned 11 and this blog was left waiting. Now she turns an even dozen years old, and I'm compelled to capture it in writing once again. So much has happened, and yet so much remains the same.

She's still singing her way through her days, only now it seems to be with more volume and gusto. Or maybe it just feels that way sometimes.

She's still a very responsible and caring young lady. She helps around the house (now being the official owner of chores), she tends to her younger siblings much to their delight, and she is always on time, ready to go before just about anyone else in the house.

And yet other things have changed. While she's always enjoyed venturing out into the world and discovering friends and fun moments in life, now she seems to be spending more time "out there" than inside the house. Her school days are long, and her weekends are spent hanging out with friends as much as she can possibly squeeze into her - and our - schedule.

She's in middle school now, and she's walking the line between the safe comfort of her family and home, and the excitement of a new social world that includes BFFs, fashion fascinations, instagram, and school dances. But she still knows that no matter how much fun she has "out there", there's always her family waiting anxiously to welcome her return to our home.

Another new thing this year has been the addition of a cell phone into her life. Much to her father's chagrin, her face is often glowing with that familiar blue haze from her iPhone, and her eye contact has been much more limited. Her laughs and chatter are still there, but often they are directed at no one in particular as she reads something silly, or we find out she's not actually talking to us but instead to a friend on the other end of her phone. We often get "shushed" in the name of cinematography as she captures her own life through videos that she authors and edits with surprising savvy.

Even with that difficult task of balancing this whole process, she handles it all beautifully. She respects our rules and embraces our good old fashioned fun. She shares her knowledge of all things virtual, and never hides or lies about anything (as far as I know!). There is no eye-rolling or heavy sighs; if she's upset about something she walks away and takes time to herself, or openly talks (and cries) about it with me. And through our talks she quietly learns from my soft lectures and shared life lessons, often surprising me when she recites back the things I try to teach her as she finds her way down the path of life.

To put it simply, we couldn't be more proud of how gracefully our oldest child is aging.

 So here's to you, my sweet child, as you celebrate an even dozen.

• May you always embrace the sweet music of life, harmonizing with it's melodies and raising the volume when the passion strikes you.
• May you always take life seriously enough to be responsible and on time, but never so much that you no longer laugh at the silly moments with those near and dear to you.
• May you always listen quietly, talk openly, and learn swiftly.

Next stop...teenager.

Double Digits Baby

Today marks a full decade of life for my oldest daughter.

A decade. TEN years.

It doesn't sound like that old for an age. But in and of itself, it's a long time. A lot can happen in ten years. And a lot has, especially for her.

We have so enjoyed watching over her as she has found her way through those years. From making her first friend to having her first sleepover. From learning her ABCs to powering through the Harry Potter series. From hanging on to me at every good-bye to being ready to go to school before I'm even ready to leave the house.

Now she wants her own email address, calls to schedule time with friends, and makes herself her own snacks. Her growing independence is s source of great pride and sadness all at once. It means

new endeavors. New challenges. More successes, but inevitable failures. And in it all a whole lot of life lessons.

So far those lessons have taught her how to be a very caring and thoughtful girl. She helps out her younger siblings and even her friends. Her teacher has remarked that she is always someone to be counted on to help out in class and not complain if he pulls her away from something to lend a hand or to help make a situation more fair for all the kids involved.

And those ten years have also taught her to be embrace life's littlest moments. No matter where or when she can be heard singing a song, humming along in happiness. And what other people may call trash, she calls an opportunity for a new piece of art. Her creativity has clearly taken the lead in her life. Singing, music, art. Anything that lets her express herself in her own terms.

And now she is working on finding her own voice, and then listening to it. She has learned that she has the tendency to agree to things simply to make someone else happy, even if its something she doesn't want to do. She is learning that she has to be the one to find her own happiness and that it doesn't only come through making others happy.

To my oldest child. Here are my 10th birthday wishes for you.

• May you always be kind to others, taking the high road even when others try to lead you down the other path.
• May you always seize the day and always find something to sing about.
• May you always be able to give a voice to your inner needs and desires, learning that through your happiness you will also find a joy in making others happy.

Welcome to double digits, baby.

Ode to Me

Almost a half a year has flown by since I last posted to my blog.

Poor lonely blog.

Alas, yesterday was Mother's Day and I'd be remiss if I didn't post something about the momentous occassion, given the name of my blog and all.

I have to say that lately being a mom has been hard work. Well that's sort of a silly statement, eh? When isn't it hard work? But lately it seems like there's just not enough time in the day/week/month/year to really be the kind of mom I'd like to be.

I am now a working mom, so time is limited and moments with my kids are precious. I want to get the most out of each interaction with them because I know I'm getting fewer of them these days.

Perhaps that's why I don't want to wipe another butt.

Or remake another lunch because there was too much peanut butter on the sandwich.

Or dry another tear that was brought on by the word "no".

Or perhaps it's just because I'm so tired from spreading myself out like a giant trampoline so I can catch them every time they come back down from their lofty lives in the heart of childhood. Where whatever you need or wish for magically appears in front of you simply by saying the words "mommy, can I please please please?".

And when they do come back down into my safety, I propel them out there once again, putting a little wind behind them and knowing full well they will fall my way again. And that I'll catch them again, and push them back out there another time, in endless repetition.

At least for now it's endless. I do know the end is out there somewhere. It's just not visible right now.

And hence the feelings of endless unappreciated hard work which leads to a bit of exhaustion. We know we are doing this job for a reason, it's just that we aren't sure our kids know we are doing this job for a reason. Sometimes it feels like we are just here for their whimsy. Like they don't even notice all this constant support and love we are providing solely for their benefit.

And then sometimes something comes along that tells us they really do see us. That they have indeed been quietly watching us all along. Watching what we do out in the world and in our own homes.

Here's what my oldest daughter wrote in her Mother's Day poem at school. My first Mother's Day poem by the way.

If you know me at all you'll agree that she sees me. And if you don't know me, after reading this, you will.

Jessica

Great looking, nice, pretty, creative.

Taught me how to cook.

Helps me with my homework.

When I'm sad, she tells me to take a deep breath and helps me with my problems.

I am happy whenever she's with me.

Party planning, cooking, loving, volunteering.

Mom

Happy Mother's Day to me.

And to all those woman out there that mother anyone or anything with selfless love and endless effort.

Nine is Devine

Today is the 9th anniversary of when I became a mother. It also happens to coincide with my daughter's 9th birthday, for those of you keeping track.

I honestly can't believe that nine years have passed since my husband and I first took on parenthood. Sure, you could say that it was 9 years and 9 months ago, but really, let's all face it. You aren't a parent until there are tears that you have to dry and bottom that you have to wipe.

So now here we are. Deep into parenthood with all its joys and fears. And I have to say that it's a pleasure that we get to experience so many firsts with my oldest. This past year had a few of them.

For every trip we have taken on an airplane this year, we had the joy of hardly noticing our oldest was with us. This was the first year that she packed her own bag, rolled it through the airport, stowed it away, and then kept herself busy the entire trip. Every time. In fact, being that we have the odd number of people in our family, and that most of our trips were in smaller planes that only had 2 seats on either side, many times this past year our oldest sat in a row by herself, usually immediately in front or behind me. Like I said, we hardly noticed she was with us. Especially since she would charm her way into chatting or playing a game of hangman with her neighbor.

And speaking of charming her way into people's lives, this year is the year of the first crush. According to her chitter chatter with her friends there's a certain boy that "likes" her in school. This also happens to be the boy that she mentions quite a bit, so I figured maybe she had a crush on him as well. I was proven correct when I went in to her parent/teacher conference last month and the teacher raved all about her, and then said, "but". She followed it with a statement that everything was great until about 2 weeks prior when she started not listening well, giggling too much and seemingly getting into other peoples' business for no reason. When the teacher was telling me this a lightbulb went off in her eyes and she said she thought it must be the new seat assignments. At that very moment my lightbulb went off and I inquired who she was sitting next to. You guessed it. He who shall not be named was in the cluster of desks. It was official. And when I mentioned my inside information to the teacher she was quite relieved. As was I since I was starting to wonder what catastrophe she could have been processing during those past two weeks of poor behavior, or what lecture I gave her that sunk too deep in her heart. Thank goodness it's just those little kiddie hormones.

Another first this summer was that we have our first child that wants to ride the roller coasters - and every other ride at the parks - over and over. And over. By herself. Thank goodness, since nobody wants to see my husband or I hurl as we exit a ride for the 3rd time.

Most recently we had our first sleepover party. My daughter wanted to invite all her friends over for a pajama party and then asked if some of the could sleep over. After much discussion, we decided to just jump in with both feet and invited them all. 16 kids were invited. Thankfully only 8 could spend the night. So for the first time my husband took cover with our younger two at a friends house and my daughter and I had a good old fashioned sleepover party with the house to ourselves. We painted nails, made bracelets and pillows, hosted a pajama fashion show, sang karaoke, and then took in a double feature. The girls were great and I was incredibly proud of how well my daughter behaved herself the entire time. Even the next morning when they starting running amuck again. She was very generous the entire time, and was conscious of being fair to everyone at the party and not playing any favorites. She seemed to just be genuinely happy to have her posse over and exist in the midst of all that girly girl fun.

The firsts are only just beginning. For her and for us. I'm just glad we get to learn from it all before we do it again with our younger kids. It benefits them as well as us. So I'm thankful for my oldest being our host into the world of parenting.

This is my birthday wish for you this year, my hostess with the mostest.

May you always live independently and know that you are the keeper of your own happiness.

May you always love with an open heart and embrace all the joy that entails, while taking the aches in stride.

May you always enjoy a good roller coaster and the freedom of soaring through the air.

May you always cherish your girl friends, giving generously to their lives and appreciating all the happiness they bring you.

Happy 9th birthday my love.

Livin' La Vida Ocho

It's good to be eight. Just ask my daughter.

We recently started a new incentive program for my employees. As the manager of this well-oiled machine we call home, I was getting quite tired of delegating work to my minions only to find it lying on the floor later on. I'm really trying to foster independent workers, but no matter what I tried, I always seemed to revert back to nagging.

Apparently it was all about the comp plan. Now I know why sales people respond so well to the all-expenses paid trips. Or bonus checks.

Not long ago I read a little article about a woman that started giving out marbles for all the little things around the house that she wanted her kids to do. Read: chores. After a certain number of marbles were earned the kids got to choose if they want a cash payout or a sleepover or other comparable treat. She said this was finally the one thing that really worked for her kids, after years and years of sticker charts and other like programs. Amen sister. I'm so tired of sticker charts these days, as are my kids, apparently.

The first week that we tried this it was like hitting the motherhood lottery. My oldest was doing all the things I always nagged at her about, but without the nagging. Shoes were finding their way into the closet where they belong, plates were being cleared from the table, and clothes were magically appearing in the dirty laundry basket and not on the floor. Granted, most time I would ask once for something to be done. But that was it. Just once. And all I had to do was say "2 marbles" and point to something and it was done.

And not only that, my oldest was actually really nice and helpful to her little brother and sister. ALL of the time. Usually this happens in small doses around here, but now she was like a dream big sister. And a dream mother's helper.

Bingo!

My son also seemed to buy in to the program. We told him that he could get marbles for staying in his bed while going to sleep - and not popping out of his room as he can still do from time to time. And on top of that, I promised extra marbles if he stayed in bed in the morning until he heard mommy and daddy were up and awake.

And he actually did it.

For the next several days. And not only that, he thinks the marbles themselves are the prize. That's all he needed as incentive. Just a jar full of pretty marbles.

Double Bingo!

And so began our lazy summer of sleeping in until 7 or 8am. Well, at least for me. With the longer hours of daylight, the kids have been going to bed a little later, and sleeping in until about 8am. EVERY DAY. And with nowhere to be in the morning, I've been known to stay in bed past 8am. Of course my poor husband is still a slave to the economy, getting up long before any of us. And, as was the case today, out of the house at 7:30am before any of us were even awake.

What luxury. One of the small perks for management.

Okay, so back to la vida ocho. My oldest decided that instead of taking a pay out at 50 marbles ($5, a special play date with a friend, or an outing with mommy or daddy), she'd go for the 100 marble pay out ($10, a special sleep over with a friend, or an outing with mommy and another with daddy). After a month, she earned that big prize. And this past weekend we had a friend of hers over for a sleepover.

The deal was that I was to take them out to a movie and dinner as a special treat. And my daughter was in hog heaven.

On the way to the movie she and her friend critiqued each other's hair, giving each other many sweet compliments about different styles that looked good on each other. "Your hair looks really cute when it's down. Let me see. Yes! So cute!" and "Let me see yours up. Oh! That looks really pretty!". Then they proceeded to put on a little lip gloss while getting feedback from each other. "That looks really good! Is mine on right? What a pretty color on you!"

After that lovefest, they got out of the car, swapped sweaters ("that's so cute on you!") and then went to sit at their own little table at Chipotle. They giggled and nibbled their way through dinner. Then we went to the theatre and they got to share a big Icee and a veritable vat of popcorn. First they danced a little Dance Dance Revolution before settling in for the movie, complimenting each other on their moves and their scores. And then it was show time.

As we all donned our very attractive glasses, they sipped their Icee and munched their popcorn, and had a lot of 8 year old fun. For one of the first times - ever - my daughter and her friend got to have their own special time, without little brothers or sisters running around, and with the sole attention of moi. It also qualified as a special outing with the boss, if you will.

We got home at 9:30p, after both her younger brother and sister were in bed (albeit not asleep yet with our summer schedule in progress), she and her friend got ready for bed and then snuggled in for the night. When I checked on them at 10pm, they were reading to each other.

Seriously. They were reading. Out loud. For fun.

Then they were asleep by 11pm. And slept in until 8:30a.

Aahh. It's good to be eight. In the summer. With a jar full of marbles.

So carefree and innocent.

And now the marble jar is filling up once again, with her eye on the prize of a special outing with mommy.

The boss is flattered.

Trust Me

I've always known that trust is an essential part of any relationship. And I've always wanted my kids to trust me. Without hesitation.

And if you'd have asked me how I thought I could make that happen, I'd say by trusting them in return.

But lately I'm finding that there is a lot of grey area in that seemingly black and white equation.

My oldest has had her history of little white lies. Reading back over that entry I realized that a couple of years ago I wasn't exactly encouraging her to tell the truth, which is what I have been heavily emphasizing lately. If I punish her for lying there's no telling that she won't just try to get better at lying, rather than start telling the truth. And it goes without saying that if she isn't lying, or that if I don't absolutely know the truth of a situation, and I'm blaming her for it anyway, I'm destroying her trust in me.

So over the last couple years I've been trying to trust her more, so that she'll trust me. At least trust me enough to tell me the truth and not be so fearful of the consequences.

I say that I have been "trying" to trust her more because at times that's a difficult task. This past week has proven so. But it's also proven what will happen if I don't.

We had a couple of little lies this week. The first one was related to a shirt that I found in my daughter's drawer. I was pretty sure it wasn't hers, so I asked her. She just shrugged. So I asked her if the shirt belonged to one of her friends that she is always trading clothes with on play dates. She said she didn't think so. But this time she was suppressing a smile. It was the kind of smile that tells me she's lying.

I asked her one more time and she said "I dunno, maybe" as if this would pass for a decent answer. I very nicely explained that she the best thing to do is to tell the truth and if she was trying to lie to me I was not at all happy. At this point she just shut down a little and said "I guess so" in response to another question about whether or not this belonged to her friend.

I knew that she was lying about not knowing, and I figured it was because she liked the shirt and wanted to keep it. I explained that her friend probably liked it just as much and was missing it. But she still didn't come right out and tell me it belonged to her.

A couple days later when I asked her about the shirt, she readily admitted it was her friends. It was sort of as if she had forgotten she was originally trying to lie about it.

Then later that same day she tried to pull off another little lie. Once again I tried to explain that telling the truth would save her from more consequences than lying would. I still couldn't break through and sell "the truth will set you free" concept.

On Thursday she came home from school and immediately brought me a note that I needed to sign. It was a note her teacher made her write to me explaining that she had kicked a boy in her class because he was "being too loud and not listening to me ten times when I asked him to be quiet."

I asked her what was going on when all this happened, and she said she didn't want to tell me. I said something about it being frustrating when people don't listen to you, and then she just put it all out there. Apparently this boy was teasing her about liking another boy in the class, the aforementioned admirer, and he wouldn't stop saying it over and over to her. So she kicked him a good one.

Now part of me was happy to see her stick up for herself. Don't let the loud mouths of the world keep you down, sister!

But of course I didn't tell her that. I told her the right thing to do was to find the teacher, yada, yada, yada. And then I realized that I was really happy that she just came out and told me the story. No lies, no refusal to explain.

A step in the right direction!

Then later that night we all got in the car to go to our local Farmer's Market. My husband sat in the back with our younger daughter, which means it must have been a full moon on the fourth Thursday of a month starting with "m" because that almost never happens. While back there he found a little doodling on the car. In ink. On the interior of the car.

I was immediately not happy. He seemed to just shrug it off, but for whatever reason this made me really upset. I asked our oldest if it was her and she denied it. But she did get a little smirk.

Aha! I thought I had her cornered so I acted as such.

Not good. Before too long she was in tears vehemently denying it was her.

My husband put the kabash on my investigation, but I had a really hard time letting it go. I figured that it MUST have been her, since she's in that far back seat about 95% of the time when we are in the car, and it was in pen, which she often has in her hands in the car after school, writing notes or lists or what not.

All signs pointed to her. And I was determined to get to the bottom of this.

Yesterday, which was the following day, I went to try to clean off the pen doodle. As I was walking out there I said again that I was upset that she wasn't telling me the truth. My husband very wisely pointed out that we have to trust her if she's going to trust us. I agreed with that, but between me and you, I chalked that up to something I would do after this situation was cleared up. There was no way I was going to trust her with this one, because I knew, without doubt, that I was right about this one.

So I went to scrubbing this little inch or two of ink drawing, that I had thought was an ice cream cone, with an arrow pointing to the cup holder, as if my daughter was labeling what was there. At least that's what it looked like from the front of the car.

But up close I realized that the 'drawing' is much more rudimentary than it appeared from the driver's seat.

Instantly I start wondering if it was someone else in the family.

So while I'm sitting at the car wash with my younger daughter and my son, I casually ask my daughter if she wrote on the car.

Bingo! She says, sweetly and simply, "yes".

I immediately feel the yolk oozing down my face. Remorse starts setting up camp.

I don't react too much and simply say "I guess that explains why you were awfully quiet during that conversation I had with your sister last night in the car". I of course give her a dose of guilt, adding that I'm really not happy with her actions, that it wasn't fair for her to let me keep blaming her sister, and that I expect more from her now that she's five and a half. Which I now realize is a year younger than my oldest when we went through the "Pants on Fire" shenanigans that I wrote of in 2008.

She understands and I leave it at that.

I feel relieved to finally have an answer.

And I begin composing my apology to my oldest.

I tell my oldest later on that day that I'm very sorry for not believing her. I help her understand that I was very wrong and I fully know it. She's happy that I finally know the truth.

Now I have to ask, where are we?

There is just a lot of grey area here. I want to trust my kids, but that trust gets chipped away every time I catch one of them in a lie. I want them to trust me, but that too gets chipped away every time I don't trust them.

This whole 'raising kids' thing can be quite complicated.

Trust me.

Slow Down You Move Too Fast

This week we had another reminder of how fast life moves. Or rather, I should say, how fast our children grow up.

One afternoon as we were having some relative quiet time while my son napped, and a bit out of the blue the doorbell rang.

My oldest daughter and I went to the door to see who it was and we were greeted with empty space. Instead of a person at the door, we found a note under a rock on our door mat.

The first thing I noticed was pink writing, so I figured it was a note from one of her friends. Upon closer look I saw the word "love" written over and over on one side. And then a part of me had a flashback to childhood days, recognizing that there may be something related to puppy love involved with the scene. We have had some ding-dong-ditching here and there, courtesy of a neighborhood boy in my daughter's class, and I smelled a connection.

Sure enough, as my daughter picked it up and read it she seemed to get a little embarrassed. I had already walked back into the kitchen, and when I saw her enter, cheeks a little blushed, she was ripping the note up into pieces with a little smirk on her face.

The little girl in me got a little giddy and said "what are you doing?" while giggling and trying to get her to give me the pieces so I could read it. Then my motherly senses kicked in and I backed off and asked her about it.

She just said it was a note from a boy (the one in our neighborhood) but that it said it was from another boy in their class. However she knows that this other boy doesn't live close by and that our little neighborhood boy doesn't really like this other boy. So she surmised that our neighbor must have written the note to play a joke on his "frenemy". That's my term, not hers.

I asked what it said and she told me it said this other boy liked her.

And that was it. Off she went to throw the paper shreds away. I stopped her part way to the garbage can and had her put the pieces in the recycling, since it seems I'm always thinking green. And truth be told, I was thinking that I might want to get those pieces back later.

Later on that night I couldn't take it anymore. I went to get the pieces out of the paper recycling bin in the kitchen. But my husband had emptied it into the larger bin in the garage.

So off I went to the garage, my mother bear senses kicking into high gear while my desire to find out what this note said turned into an outright need.

I finally fished out as many pieces as I could find and brought them into the family room and put them on the coffee table.

"What's that?" my husband asks.

"A love note that was anonymously dropped off for our daughter," I tell him.

"Seriously?" he inquires.

"Yup."

Together we put together as much as we could to decipher the note, even though a couple pieces were missing. Truth be told, my hubby didn't help much. I was the one that cared the most, at least until we read what the note said.

I was finally able to read most of the note, much of which said "love" over and over. But the first line said "Dear {oldest daughter}, I love you so much I want to kiss you with tongue twist. Love {other boy}"

Whaaaaat?!?

Since when do 8 year olds talk about kissing? And kissing with tongue? I mean, that shouldn't come on the scene for another few years at least.

"I'm gonna go kick his ass," my husband said. And he had a bit of a chuckle in his voice, but let me tell you, there was no chuckle in his eyes or on his face.

I try to offer a little defense for this boy, telling my husband that I think he's had a crush on our daughter all year. I mean he ordered 2 boxes of girl scout cookies from my daughter even though his mother was standing there telling him that they already had enough. He insisted on getting them and paying for them himself. And when those said cookies were delivered, about a week later he had an urge for more, and asked my daughter during class to come by later and deliver more.

I also reasoned with him that this boy has an older brother and sister, one of whom I was pretty sure was in high school.

And then I said "But really, that's just so in appropriate."

But what do 8 year olds know from appropriate? My husband asked if we should go talk to his mother.

I thought it over and just said we should let things lie for now. It was just kids being kids. Even if they are more mature for their age than they should be.

But really, our oldest daughter is perfectly happy with headphones on, plugged into an iPod, listening to Taylor Swift and trying to learn all the words to songs that sing about feelings she won't have for many, many years.

It is what it is. Life moving too fast.

I decided I'd go up and tuck our daughter in and just put it out there that I'm available to talk if she has any questions. I asked her again about the note and asked how she felt about it all. She shrugged and said she was fine and just figured it was the neighbor being a goof.

Apparently any concerns she had went into the recycling with the shreds of pink inked paper.

And while I hope she takes a bit of flattery from it, I'm not sure if she even knows what that is yet. But I certainly know that it didn't go to her head too much, as she wasn't prancing around or tucking the note under her pillow.

And the next day she was outside playing with the neighborhood kids again, as if nothing had happened. Not sure what this boy was thinking at the time. Probably that he got away with a good joke.

I think perhaps I'll leave a note at his doorstep next week that reads "slow down you move too fast".

Gr8 Expectations

Long time, no write. It seems I'm not finding enough time in my schedule as I'd like to spend on writing. But alas, that can be said for a lot of things. So I'll just be thankful for the little time that I do get. And you be thankful too, okay?

My husband and I have found lately that we seem to have great expectations for the aging process of our children. We want the children to accomplish so much during their growth, and it seems that these things happen much slower than we'd like. For example, cleaning up after themselves. At least some times. Being kind to their siblings. All the time. Being respectful and thankful toward their parents. All the time.

Perhaps we are asking too much? I think so. We are quite anxious to be liberated from our daily woes, that's for sure. Breaking up arguments, correcting behaviors, urgings to say "please" and "thank you", wading through a sea of kid crap scattered about the house.

The sibling rivalries and fights have become quite common lately. But that's really to be expected. We've been breaking up skirmishes so often that we started to ban the words "stop it" from our family vocabularies. We were saying it so much to our kids and they were saying it so much to each other that it was becoming annoying. We said whoever says it has to put money in the proverbial pot (it's definitely proverbial since we haven't heard any clinking of spare change) and my kids were calling my husband and I on it all the time. I think we owe them a few pizzas.

So the other day I switched to "knock it off".

Pretty good, huh? Of course this induced an out of body experience where I became my mother. I could hear her voice so clearly, even though the last time she uttered that phrase was probably over 20 years ago.

We just want them to all get along. Is that too much to ask? And to clean up after themselves, and follow directions, and be grateful for their plentiful lives.

Okay, I guess that is too much to ask. But we are asking for it anyway, hoping that it will sink in eventually.

And the one who is taking the brunt of most of this is our oldest. Being that she is indeed the oldest of the crew, we expect her to be the one that shows more respect and gratitude. The one that follows directions the first time we ask. The one that actually does clean up after herself. Without asking.

That last one is just not in her DNA it seems. But I'm willing to remind her plenty when her life seems to have strewn itself across her bedroom floor.

And now I'm using the "I expect more from you" speeches. The other day she as in the bathroom with her sister and she just couldn't or wouldn't stop bugging her. I had to step in and point the finger in her face. I'm sure I was turning a shade of purple as I let her have it.

She stomped off and went to her room. I followed her in there and she was under the covers reading a book, even through we were on our way out the door to school. I tried to apologize for being so harsh, and I tried to be empathic with her frustrations. Something must have made her feel better, because even though she uttered the "nobody loves me" phrase that I've been hearing a lot more of lately, she got up and moved through the rest of the morning.

And in case you are wondering, yes, I did tell her that she is very loved. By all of us. And I told her that even when we are yelling at each other we still love each other. And all of that good stuff.

But what I really wanted was to say is...don't you get it? YOU ARE THE ONE. You are the first one that will show us that we are doing all of this for good cause. The one that will light the way for the others. The one that will lighten our load.

But I didn't.

Thank goodness.

And truthfully she is helping us see the wonders that exist in childhood and parenting. She is living proof that we are doing a good job.

So I've decided that we really need to stop asking for so much. We should back off a bit on the lectures. Even the minor ones that just involve a finger in the face and the "I expect more from you" speeches.

She gets it. She knows we expect more. She just doesn't know yet that it's in her to be more.

But we see it. We just have to let her find it on her own, while we offer gentle guidance.

And also increase our own levels of patience.

We will give the occasional lecture too. Lest the value of a good "talking to" be lost.

Eight is Great

Today my oldest daughter turns 8 years old. Which amazes and underwhelms me at the same time. It amazes me that it has already been eight years since she was born, when it seems like such a short time ago that she was my one and only child that I would rock to sleep at nap time and sing to sleep at bed time. It also underwhelms me a bit since so much of the time she seems like she's already 12 years old. Eight is definitely not a big enough number for her personality.

This past year has been one of new experiences for her. She played some new sports, made some new friends, and acquired her own bedroom.

While she enjoyed softball, especially since her dad was the coach, she wasn't as keen on soccer this Fall. Which I think I could have predicted. She doesn't have the drive inside her to run like her younger siblings. She's a mover, don't get me wrong. But she's more into short and fast. I don't see any long distance running in her future. Personally, I can't blame her as I have the same tastes. So as you could guess, her favorite position to play in soccer was goalie. Which is just as important as the running positions. After all, I was a goalie too. For pretty much the same reasons. Perhaps she gets more of her physical make up from me than I thought.

This summer we moved the bedroom assignments around and gave her her own bedroom. We just felt like she really could use the space and the sense of ownership. She's grown into it with a flourish, especially since we just finished the last touches over the past week or two. She has already moved into the tween years, complete with posters on the wall and her constant desire to bring a purse with her everywhere we go, filled with all the little girl essentials, like a ponytail holder and comb, some cash, lip gloss and a mirror, and usually a fake cell phone.

Over the past year her loving spirit seems to have grown a well. She's like a little mommy to her brother, constantly helping him move through his ever-changing life. She's slowly shifting into the role of mentor to her sister. And she's becoming more of a helper around the house, someone I can count on for an extra pair of hands when I'm in need. Her desire to help take care of others and make sure everyone is included makes me proud.

When we talked about what she wanted to bring to school to celebrate her birthday, she said it had to be something "dairy-free, meat-free and nut-free so everyone can have one". This sort of amazed me since she really could have picked anything she wanted. So we came up with jello jigglers. Then yesterday she came home disheartened because she said that one boy in the class couldn't eat gelatin since he was a vegan. [I'll have to do some research on that one.] She then asked if she could bring him a cupcake. I told her that was very sweet, but that we'd have to be fair and just bring the one thing, and that I was sure he'd understand.

I think that I am finally seeing all the years of hard work starting to pay off. It's not that we didn't see all of these wonderful behaviors before, because we did. But now they are her lifestyle and personality, and not just what she does when we are right on top of her.

Her sense of generosity and caring. Her responsible and loving nature. They are all hers now. She acts on them because she chooses to, not because we are telling her to do so. Because these things are some of the many wonderful traits that make up her incredibly beautiful and unique personality.

And that's why I say Eight is Great.

Here's my birthday wish for you this year my love.

May you always socialize with confidence, making new friends with ease while still cherishing those who have remained loyal.

May you always love and appreciate your younger siblings, never take them for granted, and know that they will forever look up to you as you make your path in life.

May you always have so much energy and life that you brighten any room you enter.

And may you forever know that I am proud of every hit, cheering you on for every catch, excited for every new endeavor, and here for you if ever you should fall.

Happy 8th birthday big girl. I love you.

Girl of 100 Lists

Do you remember that Go-Go's song, "Girl of 100 Lists"? Lately I hear that song in my head quite frequently. It pops into my mind whenever I come across one of my oldest daughter's lists.

She's really into making lists right now.

Considering that I have a shopping list on the fridge, a to-do list on the kitchen counter, not to mention post-its multiplying by the dozens on my desk, I'm not too surprised this trait has popped up recently.

One of the first ones I noticed a few months back was a list she made for her sleepover at her grandmother's house. She numbered everything and even put checkboxes on the list so she knew when the item was packed. It was full of all kinds of essentials like "P.J.'s, underwear, clothes for tommorow, tooth brush, tooth paste, a pair of socks, head band, a book, a pair of flip flops, floser, pic of mom". That last one is one of my favorites. She's taken to keeping me with her at all times by having a photo of me in her backpack that she takes to school, and now I've even made the list for sleepovers. That one makes my heart smile.

On this list she even took it a step farther and had a section for the details of all of those items, so she knew exactly which pajamas and tooth brush and book were coming with her.

Then a few weeks later, she wrote a "To Do List". Apparently one day she felt like she had a lot going on and she needed to keep it straight. Fortunately for her, her To Do list looks much different than mine. In hers, it's all about what she's actually doing that day. I guess that'd be more of a schedule, but she's still fine-tuning her list skills. This one had the following items listed on it:

1. Piano lessons from 4:00-4:30.

2. Do my homwork around 2:55.

3. Jump on the tramp from 3:15-3:40.

4. Bring Bunny for sharing.

5. Friend's mom to pick me up from school.

6. Wear sparkly peace shirt.

Her day was very organized and orderly, even if the actual list was out of order.

She's also been making lists of all the birthday parties she's invited to, so she can keep track of all the good times headed her way.

Then there is the "favorite songs" list, which has gotten quite long lately.

And of course she's been making a list of who she will be inviting to her upcoming birthday party.

One of my favorites was her shopping list that she wrote out for me last week, on my actual list that was on the fridge. It went a little something like this.

Tootsi rolls

Gummi bears

Jelli bellis

Fruit by the foot

Pears

Bananas

Donuts

She wrote it out and then came over and told me she put down 2 healthy things for me to buy at the store. After my "good job!", she gave me a sly smile and said she might have put some other things on there too.

She also left my husband a note on his pillow around that same time. It said "Buy Milke way Mid-night Carmel Fudge". That's it. No please. No title.

I guess that one was really more of a command. But a cute one. And one motivated by her recent Halloween loot I imagine.

Can't you just hear that song going over and over in my head as I collect these lists that she leaves lying around the house?

"I am the girl of 100 lists
From what shall I wear
To who I have kissed
Check items off
Let nothing be missed
Sing I to myself and my 100 lists"

But there better not be any kisses on her lists.

Or we'll be coming up with a whole other list of things to be talking about.

Shut Up Already

By the title of this post you might think I'm being rather insensitive to my children. But that's not so. I'm talking to myself.

I just got back from watching my first soccer game for my daughter's team. And that sentiment is what I was telling myself the entire time. Just shut up already Jessica. But I couldn't. From the second that whistle blew, there was a force that swept over my brain and wrapped around my vocal chords. It took complete control over my thoughts until I was screaming things I never thought I even cared about.

It has finally come.

I'm a soccer mom.

Now you might be looking at the calendar and thinking to yourself "isn't soccer season almost over?". And you'd be correct. Because of my new career venture, my weekends have been pretty busy and I've managed to miss every other game up until this point, with the exception of the first half of one game a few weeks ago. So here we are three games from the end of the season and I'm finally getting to watch. It's really been heart-breaking to get the text message updates throughout the games as my husband keeps me up to date while he has watched the entire season up to this point. Especially last week when my daughter scored her first goal. Man did I wish I was there when I got that text. Tears even came to my eyes. In fact I'm getting a bit choked up just writing about it.

Now I was so excited that I finally get to go to the last 3 games of the season, and I couldn't wait to watch her play. Except that last night when she went to bed she wasn't feeling well. I think she had a very slight fever, which was probably from a long day of Halloween festivities and being run down, but nonetheless, I had a feeling she might not be playing today. Sure enough, she woke up with a big headache, although no fever, and a bit of a tummy ache. She ate her breakfast, but she just wasn't herself.

Of course this would also be the one day that we were in charge of snacks for the team. So I was up this morning baking Halloween cookies and cutting up watermelon. Before you know it I had to leave, and she was a trooper and put on her team shirt with her sweats and said she wanted to come with me.

So there we are on a wet field, watching the girls run up and down playing their game. I'm keeping my daughter warm and feeling a bit guilty that she's there. Either way you think about it I wasn't on the right side of the equation. I was either dragging my sick child out to a soccer game in the wet and cold morning (who makes those schedules and thinks that 9am is a good time for a Saturday morning soccer game, anyway?) or I was bringing out my somewhat healthy almost perfectly fine child to her team game without any equipment and letting her just sit and watch her teammates work hard for a win. But that's neither here nor there I guess.

As we watched her team fight hard on the defense through most of the first half, I was overcome from the first kick. "Get up there in front of the goal girls!" "Forwards get open!" "Kick it out of there!" "Pass it to the middle!!"

You name it, I was yelling about it. I seriously didn't know I had it in me. Since I've never been to a game and I am part of a carpool for practice, I don't know all the girls on the team. So I'm asking my daughter "who's the one with the ribbon in her hair?" and "what's the name of the girl with the pink shirt on underneath?". Then I'm yelling their names telling them where to go to get the ball and what to do with it.

Seriously. I started laughing at myself. At one point I told myself to just shut up for a while. I'd be quiet for about a minute and then it would just start coming out again.

As I was being possessed, I realized why it might be happening. I'm so used to knowing what to do myself, and watching games where players know what they are doing, that I couldn't help but feel a bit frustrated watching half the team just stand there and wait for the ball to come right to them before they even moved. And even then they sometimes didn't move. To the credit of all the girls, they all did the best they could. It's just that some of them get it and some of them don't. Or they don't care.

Which is totally fine. And I wasn't at all mad about it. I just wanted them all to do better and work hard for their team. So I couldn't help myself from yelling at them. For the record, mostly I just screamed out the obvious and I never pointed anyone out specifically unless they did something great and I told them so.

At the half time, the coach said he would try something new and he told everyone to just go play whatever they wanted and he wasn't going to assign any positions. My inner voice said "WHAT!?" and I panicked and started to tell the girls "someone needs to be on defense!" and shouting other instructions. Seriously, who did I think I was, the coach? I had to shut myself up again.

My daughter toughed it out through the whole game (we had a couple moments where we thought we'd leave) and by the end she was feeling better. And she was right there with me on the sideline yelling for her teammates to get a goal.

It was really rather fun. A bit of an adrenaline rush. Or perhaps that was just the coffee that I was sipping throughout the game.

Before today I had told myself that I would work with my daughter to see if she could play at least 2 or 3 years of soccer so she can get the feel of what it means to be on a team. Between that and softball, she should get some great life lessons. There's responsibility, teamwork, discipline, just to name a few. All wonderful qualities that most athletes possess, and ones that I'm glad she will be exposed to during these few years.

Just over the past week or two I was wondering if I should stick to that philosophy. I certainly don't want to force her to play something she doesn't like. I think I just really want her to like it.

And now after today, I want her to like it even more. I want to be her biggest fan on the sideline screaming like crazy when she gets a goal.

I want to be her soccer mom.

To Play or Not To Play

I've run into a new dilemma lately. So get ready to put on your thinking caps and offer any suggestions that might come to mind.

Recently I got an email requesting a play date with my oldest daughter. It was from the mother of a child in her class. My first reaction was "how nice!". And I of course politely accepted and we started working on dates and times.

While the plans were flying through the virtual world, I mentioned this impending play date to my daughter. And the funny thing is, it didn't occur to me until just that moment that my daughter is too old for me to be setting up her play dates for her. These days she comes to me herself and asks for the play date. More specifically she says "mom, can I go over to so-and-so's house tomorrow after school?" and then we talk about whether this has been cleared through the friends' parents and all that. And then I work with the parents to make sure it's okay, clarify timing, etc.

There have even been times lately when a friend of hers calls the house and they talk about a play date over the phone and arrange it. This is like a bad game of "telephone" with me on the second-hand conversation side with my daughter and the other mom on the second-hand conversation side with my daughter's friend on the other end of the phone. It's like 3 conversations all happening at once.

But I think these are sort of the bridging years for my daughter. She's able to make those calls, or receive them, and then just clear it all through me. In fact, there are times when she goes riding her bike around the neighborhood with the "older" girl next door, and I never even talk to that mom directly. I just assume that mom knows what they are doing, that she's getting the same request as me, and that if she's cleared it with her daughter then it's okay by me.

At some point we are just going to hit the "mom, I'm going outside to play!" point [editor's note: we have actually hit that point, I'm just refusing to remember or admit it] and pretty soon I'm going to have to start sneaking around the neighborhood spying on what she's doing if I want to know exactly who she's with and where they are.

And I don't even want to think about the next stage after that when it involves the opposite gender.

So back to the play date scheduling. I mention it to my daughter and she sort of makes a funny face. We talk about it and as it turns out, she doesn't really know this girl very well and it's not one of the girls she "runs around with" at school. She tells me she's a perfectly nice girl, it's just that it seemed sort of strange to her that they would set up a play date since they are pretty different personalities. I think I may have put a nicer spin on that than my daughter, but you get the idea.

Fast forward and the day arrives. The girl comes over and makes herself at home. I tell my daughter to show her around the house, which she does, and then they pick out a game to play. They spend an hour or so, which is all the time we had, playing politely together. I can of course immediately see the difference between this play date and her usual ones. Much less energy and excitement. Much less drama. And I'm thinking a little less fun for my child.

And that's when I realized that I was put in a tough spot and I did the best I could.

And so did my daughter. I coached her about being nice and open minded, and she did an absolutely wonderful job with it all. Which quite frankly surprised me a bit, since she can be a lot like a 13 year old at times with the attitude.

So we got through it all with flying colors, and when it was over I asked my daughter what she thought of it. She said "it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be".

While not a gold-star response, I'll take it. I told her I was proud of her for being open minded and a polite host.

And then it happened.

Another request. Almost immediately.

Now I'm really in a tough spot. I had no choice but to be "breezy" and say how lovely it all was and that our scheduling is really crazy right now, so "I'll be in touch".

I can't help but feel like one of the "mean girls". But honestly, my children can pick their own friends; that's not part of my job.

So I guess what is part of my job is being politely "breezy" on their behalf so as not to hurt too many feelings.

I hope it worked.

Life Moves Too Fast

In the words of the famous Ferris Bueller, life moves pretty fast. And if you don't stop and look around once in a while, you might miss it.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, when you have kids, you have a physical reminder of just how fast the time goes by. You watch them grow up, and as it's happening, you barely notice it. Then, before you can say ""do you have to make pee-pee on the potty?" your oldest child is off and running, riding her bike around the neighborhood looking for a friend to play with her and talking about the cute boys in her class.

These past couple of months have been a bit outstanding for my oldest. First, she got her ears pierced. A sweet, cute, slightly painful moment of her childhood that came and went. Now we are already past the swab-the-piercings-three-times-a-day stage and we are off to buy new earrings that she can wear.

Then she got her hair chopped off, cutting off ten inches to donate to Locks of Love. This haircut gave her a much more sophisticated look, even though I was sure it was that long hair that was making her look so much older this year.

Next up she completes 1st grade and is now an "incoming" 2nd grader. 2nd grade? Really? It just somehow sounds so much older than 1st grade. Of course it is, but that's beside the point. And the fact that some of her good friends that are one month older than her are starting the 3rd grade is just startling to me. Her birthday missed the cut-off by one day. One single day. And that means she has to stay at home one more year than those friends. When they are off to college and she is still under my wing for her senior year, I will be very thankful for that one single day. I'm not sure she will be though.

Now see what I've gone and done? I've already aged her to high school in a single paragraph. But that's really how it feels around here lately.

We recently decided that she will have her own room as well. We are going to put the younger two together in a room and give her the room she currently shares with her sister. And she'll even have a queen bed too. I think this is making her a little power hungry in the family, but so far she is handling it well. And she really needs her own space these days. My younger daughter and my son are pretty close in their sleep schedules, and also love playing and being with each other, so we figured, why not? We'll see how it all falls into place. Right now we are in the midst of trying to get our son to sleep in a big boy bed, step one of the plan. More on that another time....much more. Suffice it to say, me need sleep.

This week my oldest made fast friends with a 9 year old little girl that moved in next door. And she's always got some friends down the street - one direction or the other - that she wants to go out and play with. This is the first summer that she is stretching her wings a bit, although still within my stated boundaries. And while it's so freeing for me, as well as her, it's a little bittersweet.

Especially when it comes to the fact that she's still just a 7 year old at heart. And I mean that literally. She might think and act like a 10 year old most of the time, and even a 12 year old some of the time, but she's still emotionally just a 7 year old. And I've found that while she loves spending time out playing with her friends, or over at her friend's house all day, she comes home and is even more needy of my time. It quickly becomes physically obvious that she still needs a lot of my support and love and attention. She'll throw herself at me, wrapping her arms around my waist, squealing "mommy!!". And she's right there when her little sister tries to get in on the action, jockeying for my lap or my attention.

This was never more evident than this week when she went to a Little Gym camp day. Long story short, but you can drop in to their camps and do just one day, or a couple, or the whole week. So I had a certificate and figured I'd use it for one morning this week while she wasn't doing anything else. She had just spent the entire day before with her friends from school at a play date, so I hadn't seen her much in the past 24 hours. I dropped her at the gym and she's perfectly fine, interested to see how it's going to go. And even though she hasn't done a Little Gym class in a while, she's been there a ton while her sister does her class, so she's very familiar with the teachers and the space.

But an hour into it I get a call. "She's homesick and wants to go home." They put her on the phone and she's crying saying she wants to leave.

I'm so shocked by it all that I don't know what to make of it. I ask her if someone hurt her or said something to her. Because I'm sure that this child can't just simply be homesick. But indeed, that's all it is. You'd think after that last stint of camp earlier this summer, and the occasional tears that went along with it (although those were before she actually got there and started having fun with the other kids), I would have been more prepared for this. But she came out of that experience so well I'd just about forgotten it. And besides, this was just one single morning, and she understood the whole thing. But she said all the kids were "strangers" and she just wasn't having any fun and she missed me.

While her brain may have been telling her "sure - this will be fun", her heart was telling her that she just wasn't as happy at a camp full of "strangers" when she could have been in the nurturing company of her mother.

I know that she will continue to want to stretch her wings and fly far for the rest of this summer. And she'll fool me into thinking that she's capable of handling it all and she's ready for the freedom.

But she'll always be my little girl at heart. Both in her heart, and in mine.

Balancing Act

This past week has presented some new challenges for me. These challenges seem to be pulling me in different directions, so I am having to really work to maintain my balance in it all. I feel a bit like the guy we saw at the circus last week, that balances on all these rolling tubes stacked on each other. You just never know which way you'll get pulled, but you do you best to stay on your feet the whole time. Really, I think I just summed up motherhood right there.

This week for the first time ever, my oldest has voiced a strong desire not to be social. She's been at a local camp for a two week session. This is a camp hat she was at last summer and the one before, so she's familiar with it. And she's loved it every time. This year, four days into her 9-day camp, she exclaims she's done with it. Last Thursday they went on a field trip, and we all thought she was going someplace we go to a lot, but as it turns out, the event was sort of mislabeled and they went someplace different.

But where they went was not really the point. The point is more that my oldest daughter can go with the flow in almost any situation, so long as she understands all the parameters of said situation. In other words, she's a things-must-go-according-to-plan-or-I-must-be-forewarned-of-possible-detours-lest-a-meltdown-occur kind of gal.

So when this sort of detour arrived, she was not very happy. I don't know what happened at camp, but when she got home I got an earful. And a cupful of tears to go with it. Add to this unexpected surprise two little girls that seem to have taken on the role of camp bullies and you get one unhappy 7 year old. I guess these twin girls have been up to the usual elementary school mischief; calling people names, pushing them, cutting in line. Since when do we have 6 and 7 year old bullies, anyway? The drama is starting way to early these days.

After much talking I surmised that in a sense my daughter was homesick at day camp. It seems she'd much rather just hang out with me and her siblings at home, and occasionally roam the neighborhood for a playmate or two. When I proposed if she'd like camp better if one of her best friends was there in her group, she said she'd still not want to go if those "mean girls" were there.

Now don't get me started on how upset it makes me as a mother to see these girls stealing some of my child's carefree fun from her. Mama bear has her teeth bared and is ready to go tell those girls - and their mother - just where they can put that cut-in-line name-calling crap. Aarrrrgh.

But it's a waste of energy to do that, so I just day dream about it instead. And I tell my daughter - not in so few words - that we must make the best of it. The pep talks are working a little as she's having more fun this week, and she's been able to ignore the mean girls or steer clear of them so she can still have some fun. Although there were still tears showing up when it was time to go to camp yesterday. And whining today. This is just so unheard of for her.

But summer must go on.

Now on the flip side of this occasion is my younger daughter, who is now asking to spend more time out of the house. She got it in her head quite a few months ago that she wanted to try staying at her preschool all day, which includes a nap. I think a friend of hers was doing this from time to time, and most of the kids in her class are there for day care as well as preschool, so she's one of the few that leaves everyday at 12:30pm.

Well I finally decided to stop saying "someday" and we made it happen today. Right now she's at the school, seemingly refreshed from her nap, and playing for the afternoon with her friends. As she says, "it's like a play date at school". And that brings up another one of her requests; more play dates. And she wants more sleepovers too, like her big sister.

Seriously, who is this girl? I think I've gotten so used to her being so close and holding on so tight, that now that she's starting to let go I barely can get it through my head that she will really be okay if she does all these things. I don't think there will be any tears or "come pick me up right now" demands. She is telling me that she's ready and I'm starting to finally come around in believing her.

So here I am, letting one child go further down the path on her own, while the other that's been out frolicking all these years just wants to stay by my side.

As if I never noticed how totally different they are from each other. Here it is, right in my face.

Now I just need to remember how to balance in the middle to make it all work.

So Many Moments, So Little Typing

Where do I start? This past week had so many precious moments. And funny moments. And exhausting moments. And I wanted to remember them all so I could write about them later. Well not the exhausting ones because we all have enough complaining in our lives already. I know I do. But try as I might to capture all these moments in writing, they remained only written in my mind. So I'll try to sum up the good ones for you.

Last weekend we took my oldest to get her ears pierced. Yikes. Talk about an age marker. I can't believe she's old enough already. But we said we'd talk about it after her 7th birthday, and then we settled on her being 7 1/2. Which was officially last week. So off we went to the mall. And there were 2 girls ahead of her in line. The first one we saw was a very brave and stoic role model which I was pleased to see. Then it was time for the next girl to go. She was fine until the moment of truth on her first ear and she flinched just as the girl was doing the piercing. The job came out okay, but the girl started bawling and saying that it hurt and she didn't want the other one done. That poor mom had to calm her down and then talk her into sticking around for the other one, which she knew wasn't going to feel good. But thankfully she did it and survived. Then my daughter went up there and was very brave through it all. She ended up lucking out and having the second employee available to help when it was her turn, so she had both done at the same time. And she never shed a tear. Now she LOVES having her little pink crystal flowers in her ears. It goes great with her new haircut, which is about 10 inches shorter (and now Locks of Love is the recipient of all her patience over the past year).

Then last week was the end of the school year, which somehow gets translated into hurry-hurry-hurry-have-lots-of-events-and-meetings-and-too-much-fun-before-the-world-implodes. The first event that fell under this category was the recap and brainstorm meeting for the PTA Board. Did I mention that I got shanghaied into being an officer on the PTA next year? Okay, shanghaied might be a strong word. Let's put that under the category of It's An Honor To Be Asked To Serve My Country School, and subcategorize it under I Can't Say No. Anyway, back to the meeting. The only reason I highlight this event is because I had one of those "yes, that's my kid" moments. So here was this group of lovely ladies that were sitting around a family room in a lovely home, and I there I was with my two youngest rugrats. I brought them along (with fair warning to the group) and figured I'd put them in front of a show and they'd stay happy for a bit. Which worked for a while, but then my youngest got restless and decided to go up to the sliding glass door to watch the dog in the back yard. A little time passed and I was just thankful they were still quiet and staying out of the middle of the room and conversation. Then one of these sweet ladies gets my attention and points to her open mouth, and then points to my son, who is behind me. I turn around to see my son licking the sliding glass door and sharing a french kiss through the glass with a golden retriever. And he was leaving more drool on the window than the dog.

Yup. He's with me.

Another great moment from last week was on Thursday night. My younger daughter had a gymnastics "show". This is sort of a recital that they do every 6 months and invite us all in to watch from inside the gym so that we can feel like our kids are really getting something out of all the money we sink into the place. This being her 3rd or 4th show, and her being the rather shy one in the group (although she will always participate and perform, which we love) we weren't expecting anything too new. But low and behold, when it was her turn to run in and jump on the vault up to the platform and stand up on that platform all by herself to introduce herself to the crowd, she did just that. Did you get that? SHE DID JUST THAT. She introduced herself to the room. In a clear and somewhat loud voice. With eye contact no less.

Whaaaatt?! Who's child was this anyway? My husband and I could have been blown over by a feather. She's never done that before, and it was a HUGE step toward her blooming social side. One of the teachers, that she has had for the past 2 years, came up to me afterward and expressed her pleasant shock with it all. She couldn't believe it either. When I asked if she ever talked in class, she said that her public introduction was just about the most she's heard her say, ever.

One other moment from that night deserves a shout out. My daughter and her crowd pleasing introduction was not the first one to make an entrance for the class performance. The first boy that came in did so in the same fashion, running and jumping up to his shining moment on the stand. And just after his jump onto the platform, we all heard "ooooh....I try it!" and then we saw the streak of my son running past us all, crossing the entire floor exercise mat to reach the platform, then hurling himself at this kid's ankles up on the stand before my husband could retrieve him.

Yup, that's my kid.

So many moments in such a busy week. I wish I had time to capture them all with the details they deserve. But suffice it to say, just because this blog goes quiet for a few too many days, it does not, in any way, mirror what is happening in the daily life of this mom.

Signs of Things to Come

I think we've entered into a new chapter in our family this week.  It's all about the boy-girl thing.  Or boys trying to impress girls at least.  Okay, let me explain.

I have to start by saying that one of the best parts of living in a planned community with about 5 feet in between your house and your neighbor, and what feels like only 20 square feet of backyard, is that you are sort of forced into the neighborhood for your outdoor play.  This means that when we are outside, so are all of the kids in our immediate area.  The kids of the month right now are a few 11 and 12 year old boys that live on either side of us, and a couple of 2 year old boys down the street as well.  This story really pertains more to the older boys.   But for the record, there are also a few girls ages 6 to 12 right around the corner, it's just that the boys tend to circulate around our street due to the proximity to their houses.  

Now let me say that these boys are absolutely adorable and very sweet with my little kids.  And lately they've been great at keeping all of my children entertained, especially my oldest.  They ride their scooters and bikes around with them and in general they all have a lot of fun.

The interesting part started when one of the boys came over on his electric motor bike.  This is something that looks like a small version of a motor bike, but makes no noise when it runs since it's an electric motor that runs on battery.  Pretty cool.  So cool in fact that my husband took a spin on it the other day and was quite amused by it all.

While they were all riding around, my husband included, the boy that owns it offered to give my oldest daughter a ride on the back.  She agreed, then hopped on, and off they went down the street (with helmet of course).  

That's where it all began.  The sight of her on the back of that bike, holding on tight to that little boy, was sort of a life changing event for us.  It was like we were watching our daughter take off on the back of a motorcycle after her boyfriend picked her up to go out on a Saturday night.  

It's definitely bittersweet to watch your kids grow up.  You rejoice in their new endeavors and adventures, but you realize that even if it's not right this moment, at some point they will be letting go of you and grabbing on to their future.  Hopefully they will do this one hand at a time, or even one finger at a time, but nonetheless, they will be letting go one day.

Thankfully for right now she's still holding on tight to us.  But that vision made us see the future a little more clearly.  And with a little more fright too.  Of course it didn't hurt that she had a tattoo on her arm at the time which was a star with wings on it, just like you might see on a biker babe's arm.  So there she was, helmet strapped on, all inked up, riding on the back of this guy's bike.  Are you with me now?

As an aside, later on that afternoon my husband says that she pretty much went "toe-to-toe" with a couple of these boys during a discussion.  She was apparently determined that her point of view was correct, and she wasn't going to back down to them.  And if you know my oldest child at all, this probably doesn't surprise you.  She may be only 7 years old, but she thinks much like a 10 or 12 year old, often surprisingly so.  Perhaps this is filling in the picture a bit more for you now.

So after the bike fun was over it was back to scootering and sidewalk chalk as usual.  Then a few days later, the same offer was made, and she was back on that bike with this sweet young man (little boy, really, but you can't help but think of him as a  young man because he's so nice and well-mannered).  Again, the ride was over and she was back to her usual 7-year-old play.

A few days later, one of the other boys came over knocking on the door after school.  He had a new electric scooter and he was looking for someone to share the excitement with, so he thought he'd see if my oldest was around.  But she was at a friend's house, so I had to send him packing.  While he's walking away he says "don't tell her, okay?" meaning that he doesn't want me to tell my daughter that he stopped by.  Hmmmm.

The next day when we were outside playing, here he comes on his new electric scooter.  He shows us all his new toy, and after a little bit he asks if my oldest daughter wants to ride on the back of it with him.  While this boy is nice, and the scooter seems fun, it's just not the same as a motor bike, and my daughter declines.  He then asks a couple more times, and ends with a "are you sure?" and I can hear that he's a little disappointed.

Uh oh.  They might only be 12 years old boys, but they are in tune with the competition that life offers, and it seems that there is a very subtle bit of it riding in the wake of all these electric motors.  And I think my daughter has unknowingly crushed a smidgeon of it.

So here we are.  The door to the next phase of life has cracked open and given us a glimpse of things to come.  The boys calling at the door.  The rides off into the sunset. The disappointment of rejection.  

Thankfully I think that door only opened a tiny bit, and it is now closed again.  But it's bound to re-open sometime soon.

A little too soon I'm afraid.

Feel the Love

My son is finally able to say what seems like hundreds of words.  

Of course that doesn't stop him from his signature screams, but they do seem to be reverberating a little less often lately.

And now, as of a week ago, he can spontaneously put two words together as well.  I should preface this with the fact that he has often said something similar to "I want" before a word, but it sounded more like "eewa" and he would sort of run it right into the word it was in front of, making it sound like one long word; "eewamilt".  And he sort of lilts his voice in there to make everything sound a bit like a Native American Indian tribal name.  Nonetheless, that could probably be considered the beginnings of his verbal sayings.  

But it wasn't nearly as sweet as the spontaneous one that popped up a little while later. 

It was about a week ago when we were all in the car on our way home from a weekend outing.  I handed him a lollipop, as per his request after we had picked out some treats at the store.  Then I turned around and said "Can you say 'thank you'?"  He hadn't said it yet, but I figured if nothing else, a lollipop sure would warrant it.

And he said "tay koo mama."  

I tell you, it made my heart melt and my eyes tear.  My little guy not only finally said "thank you", but he put the "mama" on there, just to remind me how smart and lovable he is.  

Then a day or two later he added on to his new tricks.  My husband was leaving for work and I asked him "can you say bye-bye?" 

And he said "bye bye dada."

We always have to let Dad know that he isn't forgotten.

Then the next phrase came a day after that, true to his little red monster-loving ways, I was getting him cereal for breakfast and he said "elmo poon," requesting his new favorite utensil.  

Now Elmo can feel as loved as mom and dad.

But wait.  The love doesn't stop there.  I have to add in a couple more cute stories.  Just because I love my kids that much.  And apparently they feel the same way about me.

The other day, in the middle of a rather ordinary afternoon while we were doing not very much at all, my oldest daughter looked up at me and said "have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you as my mom?" 

What?  Does it get any better?  

Why yes, it does.  She then wrapped her sweet little arms around my middle for a big hug just to hit it all home.  So then I knelt down and gave her a super big hug.

But it doesn't stop there.  Then my younger daughter came up to us and said "I love you too" and joined in on the hug.  

I know what you are thinking.  How could it get any better?  But there's more.  

Not to be outdone, my son then joined the big hug, and soon we were all covered in ooey gooey love all over.

PURE BLISS.  

Those are the moments in my life as a mother that make it all worthwhile.  The seven years of diapers, restless nights, scraped knees, and plentiful bodily fluids and wastes.  The thankless hours of laundry, driving to school, grocery shopping, clothes shopping, picking up from school, shoe buying, driving to activities, snack and lunch making, driving to more activities, and shoe returning.  And then driving home.

Like they say in golf, you live for the game because of that once in a while great shot.  That one long drive that sails straight to the green and sets itself up for the perfect putt.  All those other lousy shots are worthwhile because of how great it feels when you hit "the one".  In fact, I think you could say that about a lot of things in life.

Now I will close out this lovefest with some more sticky oozing sweetness for your reading pleasure.  (I guess it's appropriate that we are still in the shadows of Valentine's Day.)

Today I was carrying my son up the stairs and I said "can you say I love you?"

And he said "I lev ew mama."  

You gotta love those hole-in-ones.

Be Mine?

This year for Valentine's Day I got my oldest daughter some Hannah Montana cards to pass out to the kids in her class.  When she sat down to sign them she said she wanted to give them to everyone except one boy in her class, Connor.  

Now Connor always seemed like a sweet kid to me, so I was a little disheartened.  Had he been teasing her?  Was he not nice?  

Upon inquiring about these things my daughter just simply replied "no".  She just didn't want to include him and she wasn't prepared to give me a reason.

Then she comes home from school one day last week with some valentines that she made in class.  I am cleaning out her folder and getting her homework out for her and I see a little one with my name on it.  Then I see a bigger nice looking one and think that it must be for my husband.  

I open it up and read:

To Connor

Roses are red,

violits are blue,

suger is sweet,

but not as sweet as you!

love

your addmire

Uh oh. Move over daddy, there's a new boy in her life.

When I ask her very nicely and quietly about the card, telling her that I really like it and I think Connor will too, she takes it and erases his name, telling me she's giving it to another friend.

Then she points out the valentine she made for daddy that is stuck to mine.  Phew. At least he's not fully forgotten.  

The card then goes back in her folder and into the back pack and I never see it again.  I'm at the party in her classroom and I ask her if she's going to give it to him. She says no, and once again says she's giving it to someone else.  I press her a couple more times about Connor, but she's not giving up the goods.

Whatever.  A girl's got a right to change her mind.  So I let it go.

My daughter then left school and went home to the sitter via carpool.  I got home about 35 minutes after her.  In that short time, she managed to show her valentines to the sitter AND profess that one of them came from her "boyfriend" and points out the card to my sitter.

I hear this and of course I make my sitter show me which card it was.  Yup. It was Connor's.

Looks like mommy is on the outs this time.  She's confessing her love to the babysitter, but won't tell me about it?!

She's only seven years old.  What's next? 

I better be on the list to talk to about some of these things.  Or is it just in our DNA to hide things from our mothers?

Maybe we'll have to handle things 'the daddy way'.   Upon hearing this whole story he simply said "we'll just take care of that right now - tell that boy to come over to the house and we'll have a chat."

Laughter Is The Best Medicine

Blog? What blog?

Okay, my sincere apologies for being a slacker blogess lately. I have been busy giving birth to a new baby - and no, not a real one. More about that later. Suffice it to say, I may have to change my bio on this blog to say that I'm not only a stay-at-home mom, but I'm also a work-at-home mom. And an insane mom. Because I needed more to do these days.

So back to my funny story of the day. Actually it was yesterday. After school my oldest always comes home and wants a snack. It's like living in a commercial. So she pulls out what's left of her snack from school and starts munching away on Cheez-Its. When she polishes those off she goes for a chocolate cookie.

Since we baked them last week, she's been having one every day when she gets home from school. I figure it's comfort food to go with the comfort zone that she has just re-entered.

My younger daughter then tells her that she should eat some fruit first before she has that cookie. I have good laugh and take full advantage of this sage advice from my younger little lady. I hand my oldest a can of diced peaches and tell her to finish that off first, then she can have the cookie.

In a few seconds my request is taken care of and she starts in on the cookie. While she's eating she browses the pantry for a second or two, turns around, looks at me, still with cookie in-hand, and asks if she can finish her cookie upstairs in her room.

Whaaat? Where did that question come from? And why is she asking me and not just going right on up there? Maybe because I already warned them No Chocolate Crumbs All Over The House.

Then I catch a glimpse of a bag of fruit chews in her other hand, casually hanging very close to being behind her leg, but not quite. And her very hopeful wide open eyes and smile are just casually awaiting my answer.

Then the laughter hits full on. These girls are cracking me up. My goody-two-shoes daughter is trying to be sneaky, but she's basically asking permission first. She wants to eat those fruit chews (in my book they qualify as a sugary snack) and she doesn't want to ask permission since she thinks the answer may be "no" after the cookie. So she instead asks if she can eat up in her room where she will have just accidentally brought that other sugary snack item with her and, gee whiz, she'll have to eat it.

I tell her that she doesn't need to sneak things and that if she just asked, the answer would probably be "yes". Then I tell her no cookies up in her room, she has to stay in the kitchen. She still doesn't want to acknowledge that she was trying to be sneaky, so she goes back to the pantry and this time goes in it, and closes the door behind her.

I reiterate my comment, between my chuckles, about just asking permission for things and not trying to sneak them. Her muffled voice comes through the door and says she just wants to eat her cookie in the pantry, that's all.

Yeah, right.

Next she comes out, cookie crumbs on her face, and with a big expecting smile and those same wide open eyes, she looks at me and asks "Can I go upstairs now?"

Now she could have just come out of there and tore up to her room, shouting a "see ya" along the way. But she didn't. She asked permission. I see a trend here.

So I check her hands without trying to look too suspicious. Nope, they're empty.

"Sure," I say, "go ahead up."

At which point she starts to run, gets about three steps into her sprint and we hear the crinkling noise of the fruit chews bag slipping down her pants.

Here come my giggles again. This time her sister is in on it too. "She has the bag of fruit chewies!" the little rascal exclaims.

"Yup, she sure does," I say, still laughing. I walk over and give my wanna-be sneak a big hug and just laugh with her. She starts laughing too and gives me back a wonderful hug around the middle.

"Anything you want to ask?" I say.

"Can I have them?" she asks.

"Yes, you can have them. But next time, just ask first!! The answer is almost always yes."

I guess I could have been pretty upset with her for trying to be sneaky. And I could read a lot of food issues into it too. But I don't. I know my kids, and there are no food issues. And they also aren't very good at sneaking things. Or lying. Thank goodness.

So I'm glad I got a good laugh out of it instead.

Here We Go Loopty Loo

Today was a roller coaster of a day. I guess when you are feeling stretched to your limits and in the midst of some serious PMS you have to suffer through the peaks and valleys of emotions.

Lately my husband and I have been saying that we need to get our family out doing more things. We shied off of that a bit when we added a third VERY active child to the family. We have been thinking that maybe it's easier if we all have something fun to do and look at instead of sitting around the house mediating sibling battles and cleaning up messes.

That being said, a month or two ago I signed my oldest up for a Girl Scout outing to the Oakland Zoo. I thought it sounded like fun at the time since we'd never been there before and I'd heard good things about it. At the time I was worried about the weather, but little did I know that we'd have such a beautiful day. So, putting to work the new motto of getting out more often, we head over there this morning and I'm optimistic about a fun day ahead of us out of the house.

In a nutshell, I will concur with the positive reviews of the zoo. It has a whole section of kids rides and it's attractions are more centrally located than the San Francisco zoo. Not that I saw any of them.

The little educational 'class' that my daughter and I did was just limited to one area of the zoo. We saw bugs, alligators, turtles, snakes, rabbits and a couple other odds and ends. The big guns were all elsewhere in the zoo and not on our tour. Which is probably why about one and a half hours of the way through the 2 hour tour, my daughter used the "b" word.

"This is boring."

How I hate that word. It brings up so many issues. Am I underestimating her amusement level with these things? Is she not interested in animals anymore? How could I be off the mark here? Or is she bored because she's a boring person, as the saying goes? Am I a boring mom? Should we not be getting out of the house more? Is it worth it?

So I ruminate on all that crap while she suffers throughout the rest of the mini-tour, earns her badge, and then we are outta there. It's noon by this time and we are starving, so we meet up with my husband and two little ones and head to the cafe. Of course I'm in a not-so-great mood at this point because I'm hungry and I feel as if I wasted all of our time, according to my daughter's sourpuss face. I'm cruising downhill to the valley of self-pity.

My husband meanwhile was a trooper taking the little two on a tour of the rest of the entire zoo, getting a workout along the way carrying one or both of them around while saying hello to the monkeys and elephants.

After eating I'm feeling a bit better, despite the fact that my husband and I never really sat down to eat our lunch and instead took turns chasing our wandering son around in between his wailing battles to stay at our table.

So we head out to explore the rest of the zoo, which I hope is more to my oldests' liking. While we are gazing in amazement at the giraffes (which are very close up at this zoo), I am feeling much better. I'm thinking that we might just salvage this day after all. Probably had something to do with the fact that I love the gentle beauty and gigantic elegance of the giraffe. I'm definitely headed back up the hill to a peak of gratitude.

I try to rally the troops to go to the next animal, but no one is moving. It looks like my oldest is in awe at the giraffes as I have been, so I give it a minute or two more. Finally I get up close and personal with her and ask if she's ready to move on. And here it comes again.

Her: "I'm so bored."
Me: "Really? You don't like the zoo? The giraffes are so beautiful."
Her: "It's just that I'd rather be home. Or playing with my friends."

Oh Lordy. We are there. We have arrived at the I'd-rather-be-with-my-friends-than-with-my-family point. I had always thought that we'd be one of those families that would love doing stuff together...forever. Really I didn't see an end in sight. Maybe because I wasn't prepared to, and I'm still not ready for it today.

At that point I snap. "Okay then, let's go home."

And that's what we do. As I creep lower and lower back into that valley of self-pity, we march back to the parking lot, me lecturing my daughter the whole time about appreciating what's in front of her and not always wishing she were someplace else. A lesson that I seem to be constantly working on myself these days. We get to the car and pack it all up and go, screaming baby and all. It's like a bad movie at this point.

Gee, so glad we got out of the house for a great adventure.

On the ride home our son falls asleep right away since he's overdue for his nap. Toward the end my oldest falls asleep, just as our middle child is waking up from a brief nap and expresses her dire need for a drink.

Against my better judgement to just wait and give her the water bottle when we arrive home in 5 minutes, I try to throw it back to the 3rd row to her. The first try doesn't make it over the 2nd row, so I try a little harder the next time. And it lands SMACK in my oldests' peacefully sleeping face.

I have now officially arrived at the depths of the valley of self-pity. Please disembark here if you feel like an idiot that is underappreciated, overworked and insane.

My oldest starts bawling, wakes up the baby, who then joins her in a chorus of cries that fill the car. I literally use all of my willpower to stay in the car and stay quiet, while in my mind I tell my husband to stop the car and I get out and walk the rest of the way home.

Where does it go from here, you ask? Well I storm into the house and let everyone feel my mood. Not that they needed any help here. Then I grab my middle child and head out to her friend's birthday party. My husband asks if I want to stay home while he takes them all, and I say no, explaining that our four year old daughter is actually the only one in the house that knows how to have fun anymore, so I'd much rather stick with her.

True to form, my daughter and I have a great time at another Pump It Up party (will they ever end?). Since she's still shy in these circumstances, we just play the two of us through all the obstacle courses and the jumpy houses, friends joining in at times. She shoots hoops for about 30 minutes straight, reconfirming my notion that she will indeed be the jock in the house (at least until her little brother catches up). We slide, jump, tickle and laugh. And laugh some more.

And I'm back up on the peak of gratitude. We eat our pizza and cake, collect her party favor and head home.

Then what happens, you ask? Well everything is fine until my oldests' friend calls to ask her to come over for a sleepover. We already told her "no" last weekend, putting it off until this weekend. Then she came down with this cough/flu, so we said "no" last night, putting it off until tonight. And now my husband draws the line and says "no, not this weekend".

Tears ensue as she begs and pleads to get her way. If there's one thing I'm tired of these days its all the begging, pleading and whining in my days.

So I slide back down the slippery slope to bad moodland. But this time I decide to fight it. I gather all the patience I never knew I had in reserve, grab my oldest in a big embrace on the living room couch and talk with her about what's going on. While she's on my lap we have a sweet and sincere moment of gratitude, appreciating each other and reconnecting our emotional ties that were severed throughout the day.

Then my other two join in and all three of my kids are in my lap giving me more love than I can handle, and exactly what I needed. My husband then joins us and we play a round of catch with a beach ball and just sit in our living room enjoying each other, laughing and playing.

My husband and I then have a humorous "maybe we should stay home more" laugh.

I'm end the day back on the peak of gratitude.

I guess it's true what they say. All's well that ends well.