Tender Mercy

You know you're pregnant and tired when after working in the yard for a few hours, taking a shower, having lunch and filling your belly- you start crying in frustration when your four year old throws dirt on you.

Yes, true story.

And you know you're even more pregnant and tired when your sweet neighbor (who must have witnessed the above mishap) comes to collect all three of your children and take them to the farm for two hours while you do absolutely nothing.

Life is good. People are good.

Any Other Parents on Board?

Dear email sender,

My moral compass must be inscribed with the quote "moderation in all things". Not sure when it was tattooed so permanently in my soul, but it remains as prominent today as it ever has been. I would like to teach my children this motto too.

In writing that, I realize I might be kidding myself when it comes to sugar- old habits die hard. But that is a story for another day.

So it goes without saying that it stresses me out beyond belief that I will receive up to 20+ emails a week (sometimes 5 in a day!) about Aspen's soccer. Besides her weekly schedule, which is a must get, my mailbox is bombarded with a myriad of updates:

"Watch what this 10 year old in Ohio can do!"
"Watch famous So-and-So do this maneuver".
"Go out and try this maneuver like famous So-and-So".
"Watch Real Salt Lake on this channel tonight".
"All players must watch this friendly. It's on at 10pm".
"Scratch that. Parents please record this friendly, let your children go to bed, then watch the friendly with them tomorrow after school".
"Hour and a half practice tomorrow after school in BFE!"
"Watch 'How to block a goal with Hope Solo', then go out and practice".
"Pay us this much money for winter field rental fees".  
"Plan to practice this day, at this time. Sorry we are changing dates and times and letting you know only one day prior, but you must not miss. If you do, notify Coach **** either by email or text".
"Parents, here is advice on how not to act like a lunatic on the sidelines- of course we need you to sign this waver that you agree not to act like a lunatic". Seriously?
"Practice has switched to this field today". Hope you get this email before you actually make it to the first field and find no one present.
"Tryouts are two months from now".
"Please mark your spring calendars for games". - Never mind that they will likely change. Buy some whiteout.
"Everyone please remember to wear your practice jersey to practice". -Duh, you sure?
"isoccer is the most important thing your children will ever be apart of. Here is why .............................................................................".
"Do isoccer everyday- even if you have no clue what isoccer is".
"isoccer only takes 5 minutes to figure out. Parent's sit down with your kids and get this started"
"Is your child practicing their isoccer assignments?".
"Here's your newest isoccer assignment". -Do it or die reading all these isoccer notifications.
"Parent's your child's soccer success depends on you. Get out and play for an hour everyday with your child". They don't need to eat, you don't need to cook or teach them to pick up after themselves, do homework or be successful in any other area of their lives so long as they practice soccer with you EVERY DAY! Never mind that you might have any other children to pay some attention too".
"Here's a tournament. There's a tournament. Anyone want to join a tournament? It will only cost an arm and a leg."
"Everybody needs to pay their fees by tomorrow at 8:00am. Drop it off to me. I will only be at one location, 20 miles away from any civilization".
"Watch Coach G*** on the Park City Channel talking about  I******* Soccer Club!" - Not that we don't see him enough as it is.
"Goal Keeper Training with M*** this Wed and Sat".
"Please don't stress about ensuring your child make every training opportunity we are offering this week, but remember the only thing that comes between a child and their success is an unsupportive (are you feeling heavily guilted yet?) parent.

The list could go on and on and on and on and on, quite like this sentence.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm trying to raise a child here, not a ten year old Olympic athlete. Or am I?
Can't we all just play soccer, learn and have fun doing it?
What happened to playing sports in the season thereof? Or is that strictly for eating fruit? Either way, I wish it were both.

I love being supportive and watching my soccer girl work her stuff, but good golly, talk about burn out before the season even begins.

Oh wait, did the season ever end?

So confused.

In the words of Adele "I don't want this in my world".

Signed,
 a simple, "moderation in all things", trying to be the best she can, Mother.

What To Do, What To Do?

Today's thoughts are preoccupied with a meeting I will attend tomorrow. It is an IEP (Individualized education plan) meeting in regards to Lib. I'm not a fan of these meetings because I find that I get emotional, lose my train of thought and don't always tell the "educators" what and how I really feel about Liberty's educational needs. But this year, I feel we are at a crossroads. Things need to change. More needs to be done.

Tomorrow's plan is to go with questions and keep my cool while expressing my desires for her future. The hardest part about that plan is that I don't know what the future holds and I can only make decisions based on past and present performance.

I love this kid and despite her learning disabilities or how she is assessed academically to produce scores, she's intelligent. She's tactical, observant, hard working, makes good decisions, is organized and always thinking. There is no doubt she'll make her educational pursuits in life. She will be happy choosing to do what will make her happy, it's just her nature. I just want it to be less difficult for her to get to that destination the best and most enjoyable way possible and I wish I knew what direction that way was.  

Tutorial

Next Monday's FHE (family home evening) activity:

How to install a toilet paper roll.

Picture courtesy of http://www.korrektiv.org/2008/07/how-to-install-toilet-paper-roll.html

It seems I've neglected this lesson and the time has come for a tutorial before three girls hit puberty. Besides, Mick could use a refresher too. I might even make an easy-to-read diagram... with pictures... and post it on the bathroom wall. Sorry in advance guests.

How to install a toilet paper roll:

1. Notice toilet paper is empty, or almost empty (Oh no!).

2. Realize nobody but yourself can or will fix the problem (trust me).

3. Locate a toilet paper reserve under the sink- if there is not one, call for back up. There is nothing worse then waddling downstairs with your hind cheeks hanging out.

4. Using your thumb and fore finger, push interior wand of dispenser to one side, pop it out from wall unit dispenser. Watch out for the flying spring! *WARNING- You may have to go digging behind the toilet if spring dislodges with pressure.

5. Remove cardboard roll and place aside to dispose into recycle bin.

6. Slide on the fresh new roll you procured from below the sink (this is the best part, since now there will be toilet paper to use- a modern invention we should never take for granted by leaving the dispenser empty.

7. Reinsert wand with new roll into dispenser by pressing it into the hole on one side and sliding the opposite end into its respective hole, listening for the signature "CLICK".

8. Use a few squares and then pat yourself on the back for a job well done. Easy as pie!

I reach this point every August

This year a week earlier than the last.

The final day of summer. One last weekday hoorah in the sunshine without constraint or schedule. Schedules and I go together like an ice cube in hot chocolate. I may need one (and four others) to cool down all of life's abstract or unimportant, but the redundancy of it all breaks me down. One layer at a time.

For me, freedom equals no schedules. A little spontaneity and schedule-free summer sunshine is a slice of heaven. Reminds me of a song by the Monkeys:

I want to be free, 

like the bluebirds flying by me

Like the waves out on the blue sea...

Tomorrow it's back to routine. Wake up at this time, do hair, breakfast, brush teeth, figure out lunch, find lost homework, and send my children out the door with kisses and I love yous in a hurried frenzy. In a week I will equally enjoy new "free time" and be a stress ball ready to explode.

Schedules, a blessing and a curse.

There are few summers with children while they are little. Last day of summer reminds me they are growing, almost exponentially. Even sibling fights and refereeing I've become accustomed to loathing, make me sad in their departure for schedule and distraction. Couldn't we all be bluebirds... all the time?

I want to hold your hand. Walk along the sand.

Laughing in the sun, always having fun.

Doing all those things without any strings to tie me down. 

Crazy Faces

June Seasons

In between cool sunny days and rain storms of June, I have been playing mom of summer break kids. Since I was out of town the last day of school, Grandma welcomed them home with First Day of Summer Cookies.

Week one of summer takes adjustment on every ones part. Me, in my instantaneous overload as referee to children forced to spend X amount of time together; and the girls getting reacquainted as built-in best friends.

"Liberty is not my best friend mom" Aspen adamantly disagreed. "I want to play with my real friends!"

"Your real friends are your sisters, that's why I so lovingly provided them for you" I said walking away and ending the subject.

Week two we got our bike legs/behinds ready for the season. We rode from home to stores, home to free hot lunch at the high school, and from the high school to free Summer Playground at the Park and back home. This gratefully filled up most of our days.

Meanwhile, I finally got the garden planted in between rain storms and bike rides. I hope I've provided my little seedlings with a proper length of growing season since I was a month late getting them into the ground! Organic fertilizer is typically how I roll, but this year calls for some miracle grow.

Now in the heat of swim lessons, campfires, BBQ's and pool parties in the back yard, mini vacations, watering and more watering- filling up the week days with entertainment is proving essential and fun. How I love summer ease.

Too bad the mom is getting to old to keep up! Starting to feel my age, especially with all this triathlon training.

Summer might just fly by.

Forgiveness and Acceptance

What I wish I would have had clarity to say to my mother after she told me to "go see a doctor" for telling her I didn't want to do it anymore:

-----

Few things bolster up enough spirit and push to keep motivated with the menial parts of life. You know those parts well if you're a mother, a housewife. We all reach a brink of enough. Where you do what needs to be done until you're blue in the face and declare with as much child-like fit as you can get away with- "I'm done", "I don't want to do it anymore" or "I quit". Spoken verbally or not.

If you're honest, you've had at least one of these moments in your committed relationships. A moment where amid tearful distress of inadequacy, failure, or boredom you believe there is more that defines you then the menial. There has got to be more!

Haven't good housewives, good mothers felt these periods of personal loss?

What about the mother idling in her filled-to-the-brim minivan next to you at the stoplight? She looks happy, content with it all. "Be happy and content" becomes your new mantra. A woman seen washing dishes and wiping continuously dirty counters in her dim lit kitchen seems normal. Could you embrace normal with a dishcloth on your shoulder and a wet rag between your fingers? You know you have talents and abilities beyond the daily grind that are screaming to get out of your head and be utilized. Energy and drive to chase your dreams until you sit down on any given surface for two minutes too long and find your mind spent from dreaming, your body tired from the toil of the menial.

Hitting the pillow you lie down with heavy eyes and heart praying that upon waking with the sunrise, you'll be given strength enough to do normal, to do content happily, one day at a time. Praying that patience will still your dreams of tomorrow for yet another season while you fulfill your dreams of yesterday. Even the menial that was hidden in the soil underneath yesterdays greener grass you wanted so badly to grow.

-----

What I expected from my mother was a you're not alone speech, a "You can do it, keep going!" An "I've been there before, in fact one time I..." or a "Mrs Full Minivan and Dirty Counter Washer at one point have felt the same way, they've just never voiced it." from my mother would have given me assurance and peace I needed from someone who was seemingly like me. I would have realized normality in my imperfections of inadequacy and self doubt sooner rather then later. All I interpreted was "YOU ARE CRAZY for feeling how you feel!"

Now I'm learning forgiveness and acceptance. Both have been equally as difficult to grasp as moments of mothering and housewifery. Forgiveness given to my mother for viewing me as nuts during my moment of need and for destroying my confidence to council with her has not come without its boundaries for the future. Acceptance in knowing that although my struggles may not be her struggles, I also accept that she continues to do her best at mothering the way she knows how. What more can I ask of her as her daughter? Is that not all I can hope my children will expect of my mothering efforts now and in their future when they say "I don't want to do it anymore" Heaven forbid if I have to retract wrong words.

Estrogen?

Aspen asked to play soccer this season.

I was 98% certain she made her choice because she enjoyed the running, the kicking, the team spirit.

Dare I mention that 2% of me felt her interest in soccer lied somewhere between receiving treats and cool drinks after each game and the possibility of handstands in the goalie box with a fellow defender?

Nonetheless, I signed her up because she did have some desire, and it is my joy as her mother to see her chase her dreams.

But...

After insisting she wear her cleats for practice and then getting a huffy "Mom, your driving me up the wall!" coupled with an "I hate this family!!!" when Mick and I left the choice to wear cleats or stay home up to her, my 2 % certainty may have changed.

Now it may be a mix of a) how many friends she has on the team and, b) how fashionable she may or may not look in her cleats; or c) her ability to drive me up the wall and make me laugh.

Incidentally, she returned home from practice in tears, favoring a twisted ankle.

Warmed with love, hot chicken noodle soup, and two glasses of water later, the same girl that threw hatred at me, told me "thank you, mom" as her foot sat on an ice pack.

All bets are on I drive her up the wall next week when I demand she wear her hair in a ponytail.

Not Going to Lie...

...Numbers and I do not mix.

Numbers are as abstract as clouds quickly moving through my head, changing shape and order almost instantly. Give me a seven digit phone number and I'm lucky to remember the prefix. Transferring English to Metric units in college had me tucking a cheat sheet (legally) into where ever it would fit while working in the field. Even a hectare had to find a visual home in my head.

After three attempts at two different colleges, I finally mastered Calculus with a C+. Statistics took two tries and all I could think was that at least I used to be decent at geometry. Or had I? Skipping a professional diagnosis, I declared I must be dyslexic with numbers... or something.

When explaining to my college adviser how I desired to change my BS in Recreation Resource Management to Forestry, he graciously advised against the change strictly on my mathematical history alone. "Forestry is mostly mathematics" he warned me. In other words, I would never see the end of the undergrad tunnel if I took the Forestry route. There went my true love of trees down the drain with my math skills. The blow was disheartening to say the least but an accurate assessment. Which is why today, while helping out with a second grade math activity, it came as no surprise I worked out the wrong answer to 89 * 78.

Curses!

My daughter and all her friends are officially smarter than me! One would qualify a mother as knowing basic mathematics. Passing calculus, no matter the amount of times it took, reminds me that some time ago, I once knew the answer to 89 * 78. Had to have! Right? Here's praying that by the time Abbie finishes third grade, I will once and for all never be stumped by times tables again.

Thank goodness for children.

Motherhood

This post on Segullah had my eyes teary and perusing for more.

And more. And more.

I identify completely, only now I find myself on two separate rides at the same time. Teetering toward the grade school roller coaster and contemplating all that leaving behind birthing, nursing, rocking and the raising that the monkey train means.

Do I want one more ticket or is my money spent?

It spoke to my heart. Maybe it will speak to yours.

It’s Our Turn

Posted by Guest | April 16, 2010 | 19 Comments

Today’s UP CLOSE guest is Terresa Wellborn; a writer, librarian, and student of life. She is mother to four, including twins. For the record she has some degrees (BA, MLIS) but doesn’t use them enough. She writes late in the arms of the day, speaks Spanish to annoy her kids, and happens to love hot rollers, dark chocolate and the color blue. She blogs at The Chocolate Chip Waffle. http://www.thechocolatechipwaffle.blogspot.com/

I woke up this morning and realized I was almost forty.
I wasn’t wondering which of my friends was pregnant. I wasn’t flipping through my calendar, charting days, wondering about getting pregnant again, or plotting future investments in pregnancy clothes, cloth diapers, or nursing bras. Baby Gap ads weren’t tugging at me, calling my ovaries out of slumber. And I was handing back my squishy, sweet-smelling baby niece without a hitch.

I realized with quiet, striking joy that I’m past the newborn stage of motherhood and knee deep in the grade school stage. The water’s fine, really. Thank goodness the teenage years aren’t here yet.

Because now it’s our turn to pack the school lunches. The turkey sandwiches, cheese sticks, and chocolate chip cookies, homemade or not. We fold white napkins in half alongside a water bottle. And we tuck our hearts into our children’s backpacks, too, hoping our kids know, somehow, that where ever they go, our hearts follow, too. Whether our kids are making swan sculptures in art class, running loops around the field in P.E., or standing alone on the black top at recess, they are never, truly, alone.

It’s our turn to sit alongside our reluctant grade schoolers doing homework we, too, would be reluctant to do. We sharpen number two pencils, trot through spelling lists, give pep talks (just as often to ourselves), and somehow find a way to do it.

We buy our seven-year-old daughter new black patent leather Mary Janes and turn around a few months later, finding they don’t fit anymore. And the carefully stowed arts and crafts from preschool, once unearthed from our garage last summer, now look like artifacts from the local Children’s Museum. And we’re surprised.

Are we living towards the day our children leave us?

Someday, like leaves falling from the family tree, they will scatter to college in another state, maybe a mission in another country. Life, marriage, and careers may whisk them away to other cities, maybe close by, maybe not.

Then it will be their turn. Their turn to birth and breastfeed and rock and raise children. Their turn for late nights with sick children on the cold tile bathroom floor, and later mornings when PBS cartoons and video games are your best friend because they mean a few more minutes of precious sleep.

But for now it’s our turn. Still. Stretching out in front of us, endless, a stream of todays and tomorrows.

Like we anticipated a ride at a fair, we anticipated these, our children. We waited in line, scratching our bellies with impatience. And now, blinking, we realize, in the heat of this blazing season of parenting, our turn is going to be over before we know it. It’s out of our hands, really. Breathless, we want it to end, exhausted with the giving of it. But, when we dip into our hearts, we find that everything else in us whispers, “No, let it stretch out, let me hold it a little while longer.”

Hunter S. Thompson once stated, “Buy the ticket, take the ride.” I have. I’ve got my ticket, I’m on the ride. It’s called Motherhood. And I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

What ride do you find yourself on in this season of life?

Nature's Goodness

Finally a summer came and went and the girls and I actually made it up the canyons for several visits. Ah! Home sweet home. This busy street city life does not lend itself well to me after growing up in the mountains nearly every weekend as a child. Next year I hope to do a weekly outing... on hiking trips or with our new tent trailer. I breathe better and think clearer at higher altitudes. So do the children.

Unfortunately Mick's work schedule did not accommodate him coming with us on many day trips until our traditional fall visit. Fortunately I have some some great friends who enjoy the fresh air, freedom and calm that the mountains bring.

Annie came to visit from Illinois. Miss this girl. Her and Lael and I packed up 8 kids, a picnic and headed out on the river trail.
About 5 seconds after this picture, Liberty and George were walking 15 feet in front of the group when George shouted "Snake!", and began to run back. Liberty proceeded to stomp her foot near the brush at the same instant that I heard rattling. I immediately started running and yelling at her to get away. The closer I got the the sooner she stopped. Looking down I found the coiled up Rattlesnake. As the group gathered, the snake spooked and moved up the hill stretching out its four foot body. I humbly said a prayer of gratitude for the safe keeping of my baby and began to discuss with Liberty and Aspen why we do not attempt to kill snakes, especially ones that are coiled and rattling! I vowed to keep this little episode from Mick for fear he'd never allow me to take the girls to the mountains again. The secret stayed silent for about a month, then he nearly died!

Jesi's always up for a canyon adventure. We took the kids on a short hike up Spring Hollow, then we played in the Logan River near Third Dam where we threw rocks.

Last week Jesi and I, with kids in tow, made it to Green Canyon and hiked a little to enjoy the crisp fall air and colors.

Abbie and Sam

Mountain Model

Bouldering

Doesn't this picture just make you happy?

I'm blessed to be a mom so I get to bask in the simple joys of childhood not once, but twice.

7 going on 21 and Wishing I had My Camera

Had a date with Aspen.
It was good to spend some quality time with her.
I feel like we were once the best of buddies and that somehow time has distanced us.
Where does childhood go?
Why do children grow up so fast and start to distance themselves from their parents?

Oh, yes, I forget this is part of life!
A necessary part.
A sort of independence that as mothers we must nurture in our children, and likely what we demand from them at some point.
A mother can only tie a child's shoe laces so many times before going batty!

I knew this day would come.
But come on, I can't be that embarrassing to pal around with.
Not yet!
Aspen is only 7, and I am a 'pretty hip' mom (according to a facebook quiz)!

So, what's so uncool about holding your moms hand around the Ice Ring anyway?

There were several couples skating , a few arm in arm in some sort of ice waltz.
Swaying then dipping, skipping then extending for one another.
Romance in it's art form.
So, I extended my hand, palm up, with eager fingers, and asked Aspen for a skate.
Sightly blushing, she said "no... mom... I don't want to hold your hand".

Broke my heart for a split second.
But I persevered, skating onward by my lonesome.
In the midst of my heartbreak, I glanced back and saw her ice waltzing.
Yes, ice waltzing!
Glide then reach, hold then dip.

Would have given anything to be that side wall!
One lucky piece of polyurethane!

I suppose we are not too far removed from one another.
She is an obvious romantic like her mother.
The wall was just more cool!

The Funniest Thing Happened Today

Abbie and I ventured to the store this morning to pick up a few goods.
Shortly before we left I put her shoes on.
She toddled around cute for a few minutes while I warmed up and thawed the car,
then we left for Albertson's.

When we came home I placed her down on the kitchen rug and noticed
that her pretty little pink boots were on the wrong feet!

I asked her how this happened?
She just giggled in happiness as I removed that awkward feeling from her feet.

Ditsy Mom of the Day award goes to me!

Seriously, where is my mind sometimes?
Dreamland?
I have to wonder.

Warmth

Something came out in the tub last night...

No,
It was not only a clean Chiga after a thorough bleach bathing of the tub and a second go round with the suds!