Last weekend we were celebrating a friend's daughter's birthday at a local park. Standing in a circle talking with my friends, one daughter ran up to me and handed me her licked, half eaten cupcake. Another friend's son did the same to her. What did we do? We ate the cupcakes.
A third friend stood looking at us and gagged.
Since then I've paid a lot of attention to what I have been eating, and I realized, I don't eat very much, and really, not very healthily. I never make myself lunch, rather I peruse the leftovers on my children's plates, and pick from there. Snacks are pretty much the same. Rarely do I have the opportunity to sit an eat a proper breakfast, opting for coffee in my mommy travel mug and a cereal bar stashed in the diaper bag for stoplight consumption.
I don't recall seeing my own mother eating very much, especially when I was younger, though I would occasionally see her eating lunch (some "weird" concoction of leftover items) when I was a high school student.
And I learned this morning that my stoplight granola bars aren't limited just to me. Lots of other moms are doing it. Must be a good thing, this mommy diet.
Tuesday, May 10
Friday, May 6
Mother's Day
Mother's Day is this weekend. What plans do you have in store? What does your family have in store for you? We have a party to celebrate one of those motherhood reasons. But the day itself, not sure what to do yet. Perhaps we'll just see where it takes us.
I received a card today in the mail from an old friend. For a moment I was afraid to open it, worried of what I might find in it. I should have known better that I didn't need to worry it all. There was only a name signed in it.
Mothering is a tricky, hard road. Tiring. I am always second guessing if I did the right thing, said the right thing, acted the right way. I am learning not to gleam too much from the mothering figures I keep or have kept around me, for fear of being led awry.
A few weekends ago we stayed in, all day. It was a rainy, dreary day, good for a comfort food dinner and a fire. I like those kinds of days, where we lock the front gate and the front door, and close off the outside world and keep to ourselves, safe in our little nest without worry of what or who. My brother calls it "circling the wagons."
Maybe that's what we'll do. Circle.
I received a card today in the mail from an old friend. For a moment I was afraid to open it, worried of what I might find in it. I should have known better that I didn't need to worry it all. There was only a name signed in it.
Mothering is a tricky, hard road. Tiring. I am always second guessing if I did the right thing, said the right thing, acted the right way. I am learning not to gleam too much from the mothering figures I keep or have kept around me, for fear of being led awry.
A few weekends ago we stayed in, all day. It was a rainy, dreary day, good for a comfort food dinner and a fire. I like those kinds of days, where we lock the front gate and the front door, and close off the outside world and keep to ourselves, safe in our little nest without worry of what or who. My brother calls it "circling the wagons."
Maybe that's what we'll do. Circle.
Wednesday, April 20
Performance or Praise?
Last Sunday at church the children played a very central role in the Palm service. Each Sunday School class had a role: leading the Lord's Prayer, playing the bells, acolytes. Children were polished and scrubbed, ready to do their very best.
When the class lined up beneath the altar to perform their song, the cameras came out, ready to capture each child's part of the service. I was proud that my daughter was basically front and center, and did a wonderful job. In fact, they both were, and both did!
But afterwards I began thinking about those cameras clicking and videoing away. I wonder what kind of message is being sent? We were recording their performance, and overshadowing the importance of the day. If they are so focused on doing their part right, are they receiving anything from the message? When church becomes a show, do we lose the reflection?
When the class lined up beneath the altar to perform their song, the cameras came out, ready to capture each child's part of the service. I was proud that my daughter was basically front and center, and did a wonderful job. In fact, they both were, and both did!
But afterwards I began thinking about those cameras clicking and videoing away. I wonder what kind of message is being sent? We were recording their performance, and overshadowing the importance of the day. If they are so focused on doing their part right, are they receiving anything from the message? When church becomes a show, do we lose the reflection?
Saturday, April 9
A Little Respect
I just got off the phone with my local police department.
My neighbors are having a party. Which is fine, really. I am all for having a good time. But not at the expense of someone else.
My parents raised me to know better than that. I would never have the gumption to play music at that volume level. Just because I like it doesn't mean that everyone does. They should be able to enjoy the comfort of their home by enjoying the comfort of their home! And tonight, well, it just wasn't that comfortable.
A few weeks ago my husband and I looked at each other and lamented that we didn't sell our house last summer when we had the chance.
Everything happens for a reason, that's what I always say. Let's just add this onto the journey to reason.
But we'll do it quietly, and respectfully.
My neighbors are having a party. Which is fine, really. I am all for having a good time. But not at the expense of someone else.
My parents raised me to know better than that. I would never have the gumption to play music at that volume level. Just because I like it doesn't mean that everyone does. They should be able to enjoy the comfort of their home by enjoying the comfort of their home! And tonight, well, it just wasn't that comfortable.
A few weeks ago my husband and I looked at each other and lamented that we didn't sell our house last summer when we had the chance.
Everything happens for a reason, that's what I always say. Let's just add this onto the journey to reason.
But we'll do it quietly, and respectfully.
Monday, April 4
Oh, Great...
Saturdays in Spring grow increasingly busy for our family as the children get older (and grow in number!). Birthday parties are in abundance. And other commitments: Girl Scouts, sports, school.
Saturday night we went on a "family date," as I coined the night. We dressed up pretty, the girls in dresses, mommy in high heels. My husband and I decided to take our family not to our usual barbeque family restaurant, but a nicer venue, in the center of town, on the one of the quaint main streets. We'd been there 6 months before for our anniversary, and while it was fancy, their website termed them "family friendly," so off we went.
We even had to make a reservation. An appointment to meet! Quite a feat for a family of six.
We were seated upstairs in the restaurant, near the TV showing the NCAA games and the bar. We ascended the stairs and rounded the corner, following the maitre 'd in a line, one by one, looking a bit like an emptying clown car. We passed a table where a man and a woman were seated. As I walked by, I heard him say, "oh, great."
It didn't really dawn on me until I had sat the children down what he had said. Nor did it dawn on me until afterward that I should have brought his inappropriate comment to light.
What was he expecting? Do my husband and I not have a right to take our family out to dinner? Do we not have a right to enjoy the offerings of our town because we have children?
My children behaved perfectly. Because children can. They used their manners. They sat still. They colored. They talked. They ate their food. They did not fling their food (or their poo, as I am sure this man was expecting). They did not cry. They did not whine. (The only wine was the Pinot Grigio in my glass.)
Unfortunately, the man and the woman did not see this. In their judgement, they had asked for their check shortly after we arrived, and made a show of their departure, casting disapproving glances in our direction. That is their loss.
When we arrived home we asked the girls, "How was our family date night?"
Their response? "Oh! Great!"
Saturday night we went on a "family date," as I coined the night. We dressed up pretty, the girls in dresses, mommy in high heels. My husband and I decided to take our family not to our usual barbeque family restaurant, but a nicer venue, in the center of town, on the one of the quaint main streets. We'd been there 6 months before for our anniversary, and while it was fancy, their website termed them "family friendly," so off we went.
We even had to make a reservation. An appointment to meet! Quite a feat for a family of six.
We were seated upstairs in the restaurant, near the TV showing the NCAA games and the bar. We ascended the stairs and rounded the corner, following the maitre 'd in a line, one by one, looking a bit like an emptying clown car. We passed a table where a man and a woman were seated. As I walked by, I heard him say, "oh, great."
It didn't really dawn on me until I had sat the children down what he had said. Nor did it dawn on me until afterward that I should have brought his inappropriate comment to light.
What was he expecting? Do my husband and I not have a right to take our family out to dinner? Do we not have a right to enjoy the offerings of our town because we have children?
My children behaved perfectly. Because children can. They used their manners. They sat still. They colored. They talked. They ate their food. They did not fling their food (or their poo, as I am sure this man was expecting). They did not cry. They did not whine. (The only wine was the Pinot Grigio in my glass.)
Unfortunately, the man and the woman did not see this. In their judgement, they had asked for their check shortly after we arrived, and made a show of their departure, casting disapproving glances in our direction. That is their loss.
When we arrived home we asked the girls, "How was our family date night?"
Their response? "Oh! Great!"
Friday, April 1
A Little Luxury
Last Friday afternoon was very quiet in my house. Two of the children were down for naps, and my oldest was not going to be coming home from school, as she had been invited to a friend's house for a playdate. The baby enjoyed a leisurely nursing session, and cuddled up in my arms, fast asleep. I gently carried her to her bassinet, and laid her down. I returned back downstairs and stood in my silently still living room.
It was quiet.
I had much work to do, as the following morning 7 little girls would enter our home dressed in their princess-y finest and enjoy a princess tea party, painting their princess fingernails, and princess birthday cake.
Bags were strewn across my kitchen containing all sorts of goodies for goody bags and birthday merriment: candy lipstick, silly bandz, nail polish, princess fruit snacks. Cake flour, butter, sugar. Princess cups and princess plates.
The Princess's royal living room was a royal mess of toys and fun, Polly Pockets and Barbies, and the remnants of an "inside picnic" lunch.
But the house was so still, with three Sleeping Beauties in their beds.
I turned back towards the stairs and climbed up. I cozied into my husband's side of the bed, and snuggled into his pillow and the covers. The baby's rythmic breathing, soft and quiet, lulled me from across the room. And I slept. At three in the afternoon. A little bit of luxury for a mommy of four.
It was quiet.
I had much work to do, as the following morning 7 little girls would enter our home dressed in their princess-y finest and enjoy a princess tea party, painting their princess fingernails, and princess birthday cake.
Bags were strewn across my kitchen containing all sorts of goodies for goody bags and birthday merriment: candy lipstick, silly bandz, nail polish, princess fruit snacks. Cake flour, butter, sugar. Princess cups and princess plates.
The Princess's royal living room was a royal mess of toys and fun, Polly Pockets and Barbies, and the remnants of an "inside picnic" lunch.
But the house was so still, with three Sleeping Beauties in their beds.
I turned back towards the stairs and climbed up. I cozied into my husband's side of the bed, and snuggled into his pillow and the covers. The baby's rythmic breathing, soft and quiet, lulled me from across the room. And I slept. At three in the afternoon. A little bit of luxury for a mommy of four.
Thursday, March 24
Most Moms Won't Admit...
... That they like their minivan.
I should know. I used to be one.
A little over a year ago, I totaled my minivan. Sounds serious, but it was really a stupid mistake (among a few other things in my life). I had dropped a friend off at her car, and waited until she safely drove away. Then I headed toward home, reaching for my cell phone (for shame!) to call my husband and see what I needed to bring home for our evening. Smack into a light pole in the middle of an empty parking lot. (Cell phones and driving do not mix!.) Both airbags deployed, thus rendering my van a total loss.
So we began the search for a new car. It had to be big enough to hold our brood of 5. But since the children were growing, and car seats and travel needs getting smaller, we decided to forego the minivan and look for a "non-mom" car. And we found one. It has 4 wheel drive. It has less bells and whistles than the van, but when I drive it sans children, I feel like ME and not like MOM. And we can take it out on date night and feel like we really are on date night.
Now we are back to the big car seats and many little needs for travel, much to our very big surprise, as you know. And though we still love to drive the car, and I can still be in it, even with the kids, and feel like ME and not so much MOM, we miss the van. At least, I do.
I miss the functional doors it had. I miss the DVD that I could really use right now while nursing in parking lots with the other kids in the car. I miss the sunroof now that it is finally spring and the snow has melted and there is sun in the sky to enjoy. I miss the cargo hold for all the groceries! (I've been priding myself in stretching the time between grocery store trips to 2 weeks, but doing so has a price.)
Over the last few weeks I've talked with a few minivan moms who have secretly sided with me.... they like their vans. Even though it makes them feel like MOM.
So I am going to do what most moms won't. I admit that I liked my minivan.
I should know. I used to be one.
A little over a year ago, I totaled my minivan. Sounds serious, but it was really a stupid mistake (among a few other things in my life). I had dropped a friend off at her car, and waited until she safely drove away. Then I headed toward home, reaching for my cell phone (for shame!) to call my husband and see what I needed to bring home for our evening. Smack into a light pole in the middle of an empty parking lot. (Cell phones and driving do not mix!.) Both airbags deployed, thus rendering my van a total loss.
So we began the search for a new car. It had to be big enough to hold our brood of 5. But since the children were growing, and car seats and travel needs getting smaller, we decided to forego the minivan and look for a "non-mom" car. And we found one. It has 4 wheel drive. It has less bells and whistles than the van, but when I drive it sans children, I feel like ME and not like MOM. And we can take it out on date night and feel like we really are on date night.
Now we are back to the big car seats and many little needs for travel, much to our very big surprise, as you know. And though we still love to drive the car, and I can still be in it, even with the kids, and feel like ME and not so much MOM, we miss the van. At least, I do.
I miss the functional doors it had. I miss the DVD that I could really use right now while nursing in parking lots with the other kids in the car. I miss the sunroof now that it is finally spring and the snow has melted and there is sun in the sky to enjoy. I miss the cargo hold for all the groceries! (I've been priding myself in stretching the time between grocery store trips to 2 weeks, but doing so has a price.)
Over the last few weeks I've talked with a few minivan moms who have secretly sided with me.... they like their vans. Even though it makes them feel like MOM.
So I am going to do what most moms won't. I admit that I liked my minivan.
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