Destination: Birthday

Tomorrow we're doing something we've never done. We're having a birthday party at a party place. We're paying for a party package.

I've shied away from parties like these, preferring to take care of all the festivities myself. Mostly out of cost savings, but also thinking parties for my girls would be more fun at home. We've had a few at a local park, but all the planning was on me.

This is different. I could get used to this! The crafts, the games, the decoration and the "cake" are all taken care of by the "it" place for kids to go in town... the local "fro-yo" bar. A place I will admit we visit a little too often. 

But, for us, it works.

And it's one of the most relaxing parties that we have had!

Heaven's Friend

I've been thinking a lot lately of my friend who has now spent 3 years in Heaven today, and desperately wishing for one of her hugs. ♥ One of our talks. One of her "I love yous." Her birthday passed last Friday. Her passing is marked today. Her good-bye will be remembered on Sunday.

How I wish we could go back to our simple days of Dunkin Donuts and kids playing at the park. I wish so much that it hurts. I have never missed a person as much as I miss her.

The sky is cloudy today, so I can't look for the angel clouds like we used to, but I absolutely know that they are there.

I'm About to Become "That Parent"

I got into trouble today at my children's school.

I got a phone call telling me I broke the rules.

I went to school to attend to PTO duties. 

I alerted one daughter's teacher that the cupcakes they were waiting for were in the office. Today is her birthday. She is 8. (The office had not yet told the teacher the cupcakes were there.)

I hugged my other daughter in her classroom, as my husband and I were both invited to do so by her teacher during conferences, after we learned of anxiety issues surrounding excessive code blue drills. 

I disrupted their days. 

I broke the rules.

My double stroller, toddler, 10 month old and I were perceived as wandering the school, thus rendering it unsafe.

But as long as my children continue to feel unsafe in their school, I will continue to break the rules. It is my job as a mother to ensure that they feel safe, and loved. Until that doubt is removed from their minds, as long as they need the reassurance, I will break the rules.

A Badge of Motherhood

At my youngest daughter's toddler class this morning I noticed that the knee on the capris I was wearing were starting to look worn. I got disappointed because it's not the first pair I've noticed recently. I've got quite a few pairs of pants that are getting threadbare, and will have to do some shopping, and soon, before the knees wear out.

A few years ago I had a few pairs of holes-in-the-knees jeans that I would wear, and a person I was friends with at the time would make me feel bad about them. Enough so that I got rid of several pairs.

Shame on me.

I realized this morning that those worn knees are badges of motherhood, announcing to the world that I spend a large part of my day on the ground with my children. Playing, tending, cuddling, crawling, hugging.

So I'll rock my worn-kneed jeans and capris. It's a sign that I do my job well.

I Don't Like Norah Jones

For nine and a half years, my "me" time has been an hour every Tuesday and Thursday night. My husband moves hell and high water to ensure I don't miss my Pilates class. And I rarely do, save for a few too many 9 months breaks!

The instructor plays music. Upbeat, relaxing, mournful. Whatever strikes her to complete the mood of the class.

I hate when she plays Norah Jones. How can that voice be melodious? I know I'm no songbird, but come on. What producer decided that voice was good enough to sell as well as she does?  When I hear the first few notes of her songs, gone is my relaxed vinyasa posture, replaced by tense muscles and jerky movements. Finger nails on a chalkboard. Relaxation NOT at it's finest. I was secretly relieved during last night's class to sneak out a few minutes early, during the fourth song of the evening, to tend to a very sad baby boy.