You can spot her a mile away...a new mother. Some call it a glow but mostly I think it's a glaze. Not to be cynical at all about motherhood. It's an amazing thing that's happened to me three times over. But there are distinctive things about every stage.
When you are pregnant, it's kind of like waiting for Christmas morning when you were a kid. It is so exciting and you have all these ideas about what it will be like for you, and then when it happens it's just like you thought it would be...wonderful, exhilarating, exciting, but also really, really tiring. And anxiety producing and second guessing yourself constantly about everything you're doing and did I mention tiring? You emerge from the first phase of motherhood when #1 is about 3 weeks old. Then you wake up after a few hour stretch and think, "I might be getting the hang of this. I feel a little like my old self. I might even take a shower today! And put on make up and dry my hair!"
And then your baby starts teething........
There are challenges to every stage of motherhood that's for sure. And sometimes I think you can equate it swimming, or drowning as it may sometimes feel. You may be cruising along just fine, and then something new or unexpected will happen with jr. and you feel dragged under again. Then you come to the surface, cruise along, and get dragged under again and again. And then finally #1 gets to be about 1. 5 or 2 and your cruising altitude remains steady for longer periods of time.
And then you get pregnant again.....
Baby #2 comes along. I remember saying to one of my friends when I was pregnant, "Okay, I may regret saying this, but I think I'm pretty good at this motherhood thing. Gabe's doing okay, I've got the hang of the eating and sleeping thing. Yeah, sometimes discipline is hard, but we're working on it. When baby #2 is born, how can it be that much harder? I mean, all they do at first any way is eat and sleep right?"
Wow. I mean it. Wow. Ben was born just weeks before Gabe turned two. And he was a relatively easy baby. And Gabe was NOT a relatively easy two year old. We called him Jekyll and Hyde. And really, no one can prepare you for how it is to have TWO (three counting your husband) people who need you in this world. And not just need you to feel good, but need you to SURVIVE. That's a heavy burden at times.
With me, wherever I went, baby just came with me. It was easier for me that way. I was nursing so I didn't want a call 20 min. after I left begging me to come home because the baby was crying. So, baby just came with me. EVERYWHERE. And that meant I was never alone. Well, with baby number 2, baby and toddler came with me. EVERYWHERE. And that meant I was really never alone. I swear, it felt like I was tethered. Not tied down, but tethered, because we didn't stay home. I haven't stayed home since I was 8. We just went everywhere together and all of a sudden I had two extra appendages named Gabe and Ben.
So baby #2 is born and you begin the cycle again. Three weeks and "Hey, I might be okay with all this." You cruise, you get dragged under. You cruise, you get dragged under. And so on and so forth.
We decided we should wait until baby #2 was three before having a third. And, well....we hadn't even reached a good cruising altitude before I took a good look at my calendar and said, "Oh my word. Really? Has it been 42 days? No!?" Well.....yep. Ben was 18 months old when baby #3 came along. Crazy how life throws you some curve balls. This was an awesome curve ball though and one I would never take back or regret. Lyndee Elizabeth's birth was, bar none, the happiest day of my life. I mean, a girl? An accidental girl? Yee Haw!
That doesn't mean that it wasn't overwhelming and still can be most of the time. It just means it's been another foray into the cycle of motherhood. We cruise, we get dragged under, we cruise, we get dragged under. You know the drill.
I think, now that Lyndee is almost 2, that we cruise most of the time. It's kind of like when you were a kid swimming under water to see if you could make it from one side of the pool to the other with one breath. You fill your lungs with air for the journey, you feel strong, you falter, your lungs start to burn, and just when you think you can't go any farther, you touch the side and burst to the surface. I feel that way now, not treading water or cruising any more, but finally breaking the surface. I can eat what I want, drink what I want, go to bed late if I want, get out of bed and give the kids cereal and go lay back down if I want, speak and be understood most of the time. Two of my three go to the bathroom alone, brush their teeth alone, eat by themselves, walk by themselves, use a pencil, drink out of big kid cups, and have meaningful conversation.
I see the mothers at preschool drop off time three days a week and I can pretty much pick out which stage they are in. There are those in their sweats, flip flops in the snow, t-shirts and an open coat, hair in a pony tail, glasses on, carrying the baby bucket and holding the hand of at least one toddler and/or preschooler. Yep, they think they're cruising because they got dressed today and are only a few minutes late. They don't know, and won't until later, that their cruising level is survival level, just below the surface.
There are also the mothers who look a little more well rested. They are dressed in matching clothes, and it may be something that's not just a t-shirt. No spit up stains or flip flops. The contacts made it in the eyes this morning and they are right on time. No baby bucket, just a baby on the hip and holding the hand of a preschooler. These fine women are cruising just above the surface.
And then there is where I almost am...make up, hair done, dressed well - some in work clothes, some not. They arrive early (sorry, that's not me yet) easily chatting with the teachers they've known for years since #1 came to school here. Their cars/vans are clean, their shoes are appropriate, they probably have just one or two preschoolers they are responsible for getting to the proper place. These women, yes, it is possible, have completely broken the surface and gotten out of the pool. They watch from the sides and cheer the rest of us on because they have been there. They know what it's like to look glazed and not quite be at your best. They are there to tell you that you are a good mom even though you often don't feel like it. They will be there to lend you a hand to help you out of the pool when it is time. And like you, they know that they have changed irrevocably since they first entered the water, and that they would do it again. Definitely, for sure, absolutely. Just not right now.
Kiddos 2014
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Things the playground teaches
Most of the time when my kids are playing outside, I am inside doing the things that need to get done to keep our house running smoothly - laundry, dishes, cleaning, bills, etc. Super exciting tasks, I know. Sometimes I think that I'm just not very good at playing with them. The truth is, it makes me feel inept, out of my league, unimaginative....bored. Until tonight, when my kids and husband taught me a few important lessons.
We went to the club tonight because it's our last night. You see, we decided that it wasn't financially worth it for us to keep our membership for the few odd days that we would go and work out or play with the kids. It's truly an amazing place for kids to play. The upstairs is for preschoolers, lots of climbing things, driving things, moving things, you wish for it, it's there. The downstairs of the portion of the club called The Neighborhood is also amazing. There is trampoline basketball, an 18 hole mini golf course, giant chess, dance revolution, batting cages, golfing cages, a bb court, hopscotch, it goes on and on.
We started out tonight with Lyndee and me staying in the preschool area and Gabe, Ben and Matt in The Neighborhood. Lyndee just ran and ran and ran and ran. The first thing playing with your kids teaches you is RUN. Run because you can, not because you have to. Run with your arms up in the air, hair flying, mouth open, smiling and screaming. And if you fall, laugh and get up and run again only faster! She was so joyful and unrestrained and yes, when we left to find the boys, sweaty. But alas, there is joy in being sweaty!
Then I watched the boys climb in the big climbing thing. There's really no other way to describe it. It has slides, ladders, ropes, floors made of nylon straps, anything you can think of all put together with passageways and different levels. There are two rules - no shoes, and no climbing up the slide. That's it. I looked around for age restrictions or weight restrictions and found none. So, while Lyndee and Ben and Matt went to find something else to do, I climbed up with Gabe.
As adults, I know especially for myself that fear restricts my fun! I'm afraid of failing, looking stupid, spending money, not spending money and getting hurt. All of these fears limit what I will try or do. So, I decided if my 5, 3, and 20 month old could conquer this big climbing thing, so could I. Trying to get to where Gabe was proved a little difficult. There was one of two ways to go, up a ladder type thing, or up a passageway. Well, I took the passageway - code I know now for the LONG way. And not THE EASY WAY. I haven't had my body twisted in so many ways since... well, since I don't know when! And never have I tried to go through smaller spaces! All the time I heard Gabe saying, "You can do it Mommy! I'm right here, you're almost there!" And then, there he was! I made it. And yes, I was sweaty. But, strangely jubilant at the same time. And, still a little afraid. You see, I still had to get down! I looked around. Well, I could go back the same way I came, or I could try to use the alternate route. The alternate route involved an extremely small passageway to another level, an obstacle route and a slide.
"Which way Gabe?"
"I wanna do the slide," he said. I groaned inwardly.
"I don't know if I can fit through there, G."
"Aww, come on Mommy. You never know until you try." My own words spoken back to me. So I decided to go feet first. Wrong. I twisted, I turned, I got stuck, and finally without any grace, I fell onto the next platform. "Mommy, it's much easier to go head first."
What an analogy. How often do kids dive into things head first, no fear of consequences or what will come next? And how often do adults? I, for one, as already noted, prefer the feet first method. But you know what? I'm not so sure that's the right way anymore!
And the obstacle course and the slide were fun! In fact, I braved the small passageway again (this time head first and it was much easier) and slid down the slide again! So Gabe taught me FEAR NOTHING and GO HEAD FIRST.
I caught up with Ben and Lyndee in the jumping trampoline. "I jumping!" Lyndee screamed. Again, pigtails flying, screaming, and sweaty. What an adorable picture. So, I tried it. I jumped, and it was FUN! I haven't jumped in years and although it didn't last long, it reminded me that I should jump more often. Only next time, go to the bathroom first!
Finally, we all went back up to the preschool play area. And we RAN, and we JUMPED and we weren't afraid, and we went HEAD FIRST. And we also played hide and seek. There's not many places for my 6'5 husband to hide in a preschool play area. But, he did it and joyfully. And the smiles and shrieks from the kids made us supremely happy to have had the evening with them. So, the next time you play, lose the fear, go head first, run with joy, jump and scream, and get sweaty. There's good in all of that!
We went to the club tonight because it's our last night. You see, we decided that it wasn't financially worth it for us to keep our membership for the few odd days that we would go and work out or play with the kids. It's truly an amazing place for kids to play. The upstairs is for preschoolers, lots of climbing things, driving things, moving things, you wish for it, it's there. The downstairs of the portion of the club called The Neighborhood is also amazing. There is trampoline basketball, an 18 hole mini golf course, giant chess, dance revolution, batting cages, golfing cages, a bb court, hopscotch, it goes on and on.
We started out tonight with Lyndee and me staying in the preschool area and Gabe, Ben and Matt in The Neighborhood. Lyndee just ran and ran and ran and ran. The first thing playing with your kids teaches you is RUN. Run because you can, not because you have to. Run with your arms up in the air, hair flying, mouth open, smiling and screaming. And if you fall, laugh and get up and run again only faster! She was so joyful and unrestrained and yes, when we left to find the boys, sweaty. But alas, there is joy in being sweaty!
Then I watched the boys climb in the big climbing thing. There's really no other way to describe it. It has slides, ladders, ropes, floors made of nylon straps, anything you can think of all put together with passageways and different levels. There are two rules - no shoes, and no climbing up the slide. That's it. I looked around for age restrictions or weight restrictions and found none. So, while Lyndee and Ben and Matt went to find something else to do, I climbed up with Gabe.
As adults, I know especially for myself that fear restricts my fun! I'm afraid of failing, looking stupid, spending money, not spending money and getting hurt. All of these fears limit what I will try or do. So, I decided if my 5, 3, and 20 month old could conquer this big climbing thing, so could I. Trying to get to where Gabe was proved a little difficult. There was one of two ways to go, up a ladder type thing, or up a passageway. Well, I took the passageway - code I know now for the LONG way. And not THE EASY WAY. I haven't had my body twisted in so many ways since... well, since I don't know when! And never have I tried to go through smaller spaces! All the time I heard Gabe saying, "You can do it Mommy! I'm right here, you're almost there!" And then, there he was! I made it. And yes, I was sweaty. But, strangely jubilant at the same time. And, still a little afraid. You see, I still had to get down! I looked around. Well, I could go back the same way I came, or I could try to use the alternate route. The alternate route involved an extremely small passageway to another level, an obstacle route and a slide.
"Which way Gabe?"
"I wanna do the slide," he said. I groaned inwardly.
"I don't know if I can fit through there, G."
"Aww, come on Mommy. You never know until you try." My own words spoken back to me. So I decided to go feet first. Wrong. I twisted, I turned, I got stuck, and finally without any grace, I fell onto the next platform. "Mommy, it's much easier to go head first."
What an analogy. How often do kids dive into things head first, no fear of consequences or what will come next? And how often do adults? I, for one, as already noted, prefer the feet first method. But you know what? I'm not so sure that's the right way anymore!
And the obstacle course and the slide were fun! In fact, I braved the small passageway again (this time head first and it was much easier) and slid down the slide again! So Gabe taught me FEAR NOTHING and GO HEAD FIRST.
I caught up with Ben and Lyndee in the jumping trampoline. "I jumping!" Lyndee screamed. Again, pigtails flying, screaming, and sweaty. What an adorable picture. So, I tried it. I jumped, and it was FUN! I haven't jumped in years and although it didn't last long, it reminded me that I should jump more often. Only next time, go to the bathroom first!
Finally, we all went back up to the preschool play area. And we RAN, and we JUMPED and we weren't afraid, and we went HEAD FIRST. And we also played hide and seek. There's not many places for my 6'5 husband to hide in a preschool play area. But, he did it and joyfully. And the smiles and shrieks from the kids made us supremely happy to have had the evening with them. So, the next time you play, lose the fear, go head first, run with joy, jump and scream, and get sweaty. There's good in all of that!
Saturday, July 19, 2008
My Devotion at church
Last spring I signed up to do the devotion portion of our GIFT (Growing In Faith Together) group. Here is what I presented that day.
Since Mother’s Day is right around the corner and Father’s Day isn’t too far off, I want to talk today about being a parent. It wasn’t too long ago that I wasn’t sure if we would ever be parents. We lost our first baby through a very complicated miscarriage in January 2001. I finally got pregnant again with some help from medical intervention in October 2002. Our son Gabe was born in July 2003. I remember one time when he was about 4 months old. He was sleeping in my arms as I rocked him. I looked down at his face and thought, “He is the greatest thing I have ever done.” Don’t you think that’s how God thinks of us?
Jeremiah 1:5 “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart.”
I don’t think I ever truly understood what a sacrifice God made for us when he sacrificed Jesus for our sins. How many of us would be willing to do that? But that’s exactly how much he loves us! Completely and perfectly.
When we were trying to get pregnant I prayed and prayed and prayed. I prayed for things to happen on my time schedule, not God’s. It got the point where I would lay in bed at night and pray, “Okay God, you know what I want. Just please give me a baby!” I swore to him that if I was lucky enough to be a parent that I would be so patient. I wouldn’t be like those regular parents who grew impatient and angry (imagine that, angry with your children?!) because I would know how much we longed for this child and I would truly know what a blessing it was to have a child. And we were blessed with a child! Not on our time schedule for sure. Especially since we were going to wait until our second son Benjamin was at least two before we tried again. Well, Ben is 2.5 and our daughter Lyndee is 1! Who’s in charge here? Am I extraordinarily patient? No! Do I yell? Yes! Do I get angry and frustrated? Yes. Have my children tested me? Yes! I’ve even been known to get down face to face with Gabe and say rather loudly, “We tried really hard to have you! Now behave!”
Don’t you think God feels like us sometimes as parents? He is extraordinarily patient. I’m sure he gets angry and frustrated with us. I’m sure we test Him every day with our worldliness and disregard for prayer and scripture. Do you think sometimes he shakes his head and says, “I gave Jesus’ life for you! Now behave!”
And yet, in the midst of dirty diapers, cutting up food in bite size morsels, wiping up fruity pebbles that become like glue if left on any surface…I am so thankful to be where I am at! I am amazed at how my heart can swell with love for my kids.
1 John 4:7-8 Whoever loves is a child of God and knows God. Whoever does not love, does not know God for God is love.
1 Peter 4:8 Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.
I challenge you this week to love your children as completely as possible. To know that the way you love them is the way that God loves you. I also challenge you to treat a little bit of each day as Father’s day, not for your husband or your dad, but for God. Give thanks in prayer for the love you are able to give others because He first loved us.
Mission Impossible
One of the things you worry about most as a parent is what your kids are eating. Or not eating. Or eating too much of. Or not enough of!
My worry about all of this started when my oldest was about 3.5 months old and was diagnosed with a protein allergy. He started having bloody diapers and was really cranky and so we brought him in to a pediatric GI doctor. Since the doctor wasn't sure what was causing this, he put me (since I was a nursing mama) on what I dubbed the "prisoner's diet." The three biggest allergens for kids are dairy, meat and soy. So, I could eat nothing that had dairy, meat or soy in it. Well, that's pretty much everything. We worry about not getting enough soy. Really people, soy is in EVERYTHING! Even licorice! So I ate whole wheat bread with fake butter and honey, vegetable soup, rice and hot tamales. Yuck. I tried to eat this way for about a week, lost 7 pounds, and gave up. Not only that but Gabe's diapers weren't getting any better, and neither was he.
So, after a colonoscopy for him and a definitive diagnosis of a protein allergy, we started him on formula. Not just any formula, the most expensive one you could buy. It was called alimentum and it was $25 for a small can. So we spent upwards of $200 every month on formula. But it had to be one where the proteins were already broken down for him or he would continue to be anemic. Easy choice. And he was on that formula for 15 months until we could gradually start introducing protein and dairy and soy into his diet.
To look at him now, you would never guess he started out as a skinny little anemic baby. He's 47" tall and 54 pounds at 5 years old. He's got little love handles and he is solid. Very soon there will come a day when I won't be able to lift him!
But last fall, I still worried about him. My mom was diagnosed with celiac which is an allergy to wheat. Those with celiac have to follow a very strict gluten free diet or have a recurrence of symptoms. While checking this out about my mom, I saw symptoms for children and Gabe had 4 of the 5 of them. Pale skin, distended abdomen, tummy aches, and large malodorous stools. The only one he didn't exhibit was failure to grow.
Back to the pediatric GI doc we went. They ran some blood tests, which were negative. And had to do some stool samples. Here's where the Mission Impossible comes in. Go ahead, sing the song in your head. I know I did. At the clinic they gave me a big orange bag with a stool collection kit and instructions in it. I couldn't believe it when I got home and read it. "Once a stool is collected, the sample must be to the lab in 30 minutes or the test will not read accurately." THIRTY MINUTES? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
I've got a 9 month old, a 2.5 year old, a 4.5 year old, and a 10 minute drive to the clinic! Okay, deep breath, I can do this. And so I readied myself. And waited. And waited. I waited for three days for Gabe to, well, you know, give me a sample! And when that sample happened, Lyndee and Ben were sleeping, it was snowing, I was packing and we were getting ready to leave on a weekend get away!
Here we go. Plop, plop. Sample secure. Put sleeping Ben in his car seat. No coats today kids, no time. Sweatshirts are fine, we're using the subway anyway. Wake up baby. Change quick diaper. No shoes necessary, you can't walk anyway. 27 minutes to go.
Get Gabe in the car, grab diaper bag with snacks, bottle, sippy cups. Walk out front door. Walk back in, put on my own shoes. Buckle myself in, back out of driveway, look in rear view mirror, drive back in driveway, open up garage door, open up back of van, place double stroller in back of van. 19 minutes to go.
Drive (within posted speed limits) to clinic, drive to parking ramp, "please take the ticket," drive in, find a parking space. Open up back of van, get out double stroller. Wake up Ben, put him in stroller with sippy cup, get out baby, put her in stroller with bottle. Get out Gabe, close van doors, lock van, go to elevator. 9 minutes to go.
Take elevator to subway level. Go ahead, keep singing the song! 7 minutes.
Pause briefly in subway lobby to admire Medusa like art hanging from the main floor ceiling. Take a right past Gonda Building elevators and Mayo elevators. Pause briefly to listen to volunteer playing piano music. 5 minutes.
Tell Gabe to hurry up, glance down to make sure I have bright orange bag, panic, move diaper bag, relax again. 3 minutes.
Pull Gabe along as he insists on jumping over every decorative carpet band ("swamp") that occur every 20 feet. Arrive at lab desk, panting, sweating, Medusa looking myself, at 29 minutes. Whew! I did it!
I hand it to the lab attendant who asks. "How long ago was this sample taken?"
"Thirty minutes ago," I proudly say.
"Wow, it takes most people 45!" She says admiringly.
I mentally pat myself on the back and use the hand sanitizer so graciously provided by the clinic.
"Have a nice day," I say as a saunter away. We go in to the subway coffee shop where we sit for just a few minutes where I leisurely sip my Diet Coke as I watch a woman with a single stroller dragging along her toddler carrying a bright orange bag. "Ha, I had a double stroller," I think to myself. "I got you beat!"
(And by the way, good results! No celiac for the Gman. And his belly's getting smaller. It must be those sit ups his daddy taught him!)
My worry about all of this started when my oldest was about 3.5 months old and was diagnosed with a protein allergy. He started having bloody diapers and was really cranky and so we brought him in to a pediatric GI doctor. Since the doctor wasn't sure what was causing this, he put me (since I was a nursing mama) on what I dubbed the "prisoner's diet." The three biggest allergens for kids are dairy, meat and soy. So, I could eat nothing that had dairy, meat or soy in it. Well, that's pretty much everything. We worry about not getting enough soy. Really people, soy is in EVERYTHING! Even licorice! So I ate whole wheat bread with fake butter and honey, vegetable soup, rice and hot tamales. Yuck. I tried to eat this way for about a week, lost 7 pounds, and gave up. Not only that but Gabe's diapers weren't getting any better, and neither was he.
So, after a colonoscopy for him and a definitive diagnosis of a protein allergy, we started him on formula. Not just any formula, the most expensive one you could buy. It was called alimentum and it was $25 for a small can. So we spent upwards of $200 every month on formula. But it had to be one where the proteins were already broken down for him or he would continue to be anemic. Easy choice. And he was on that formula for 15 months until we could gradually start introducing protein and dairy and soy into his diet.
To look at him now, you would never guess he started out as a skinny little anemic baby. He's 47" tall and 54 pounds at 5 years old. He's got little love handles and he is solid. Very soon there will come a day when I won't be able to lift him!
But last fall, I still worried about him. My mom was diagnosed with celiac which is an allergy to wheat. Those with celiac have to follow a very strict gluten free diet or have a recurrence of symptoms. While checking this out about my mom, I saw symptoms for children and Gabe had 4 of the 5 of them. Pale skin, distended abdomen, tummy aches, and large malodorous stools. The only one he didn't exhibit was failure to grow.
Back to the pediatric GI doc we went. They ran some blood tests, which were negative. And had to do some stool samples. Here's where the Mission Impossible comes in. Go ahead, sing the song in your head. I know I did. At the clinic they gave me a big orange bag with a stool collection kit and instructions in it. I couldn't believe it when I got home and read it. "Once a stool is collected, the sample must be to the lab in 30 minutes or the test will not read accurately." THIRTY MINUTES? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
I've got a 9 month old, a 2.5 year old, a 4.5 year old, and a 10 minute drive to the clinic! Okay, deep breath, I can do this. And so I readied myself. And waited. And waited. I waited for three days for Gabe to, well, you know, give me a sample! And when that sample happened, Lyndee and Ben were sleeping, it was snowing, I was packing and we were getting ready to leave on a weekend get away!
Here we go. Plop, plop. Sample secure. Put sleeping Ben in his car seat. No coats today kids, no time. Sweatshirts are fine, we're using the subway anyway. Wake up baby. Change quick diaper. No shoes necessary, you can't walk anyway. 27 minutes to go.
Get Gabe in the car, grab diaper bag with snacks, bottle, sippy cups. Walk out front door. Walk back in, put on my own shoes. Buckle myself in, back out of driveway, look in rear view mirror, drive back in driveway, open up garage door, open up back of van, place double stroller in back of van. 19 minutes to go.
Drive (within posted speed limits) to clinic, drive to parking ramp, "please take the ticket," drive in, find a parking space. Open up back of van, get out double stroller. Wake up Ben, put him in stroller with sippy cup, get out baby, put her in stroller with bottle. Get out Gabe, close van doors, lock van, go to elevator. 9 minutes to go.
Take elevator to subway level. Go ahead, keep singing the song! 7 minutes.
Pause briefly in subway lobby to admire Medusa like art hanging from the main floor ceiling. Take a right past Gonda Building elevators and Mayo elevators. Pause briefly to listen to volunteer playing piano music. 5 minutes.
Tell Gabe to hurry up, glance down to make sure I have bright orange bag, panic, move diaper bag, relax again. 3 minutes.
Pull Gabe along as he insists on jumping over every decorative carpet band ("swamp") that occur every 20 feet. Arrive at lab desk, panting, sweating, Medusa looking myself, at 29 minutes. Whew! I did it!
I hand it to the lab attendant who asks. "How long ago was this sample taken?"
"Thirty minutes ago," I proudly say.
"Wow, it takes most people 45!" She says admiringly.
I mentally pat myself on the back and use the hand sanitizer so graciously provided by the clinic.
"Have a nice day," I say as a saunter away. We go in to the subway coffee shop where we sit for just a few minutes where I leisurely sip my Diet Coke as I watch a woman with a single stroller dragging along her toddler carrying a bright orange bag. "Ha, I had a double stroller," I think to myself. "I got you beat!"
(And by the way, good results! No celiac for the Gman. And his belly's getting smaller. It must be those sit ups his daddy taught him!)
Every three weeks
Every three weeks or so I freak out. Literally. About everything. My husband can attest to this, my kids run the opposite direction, my best friend listens patiently. They weather the storm and hopefully we are all calmer on the other side. Most of the time I can coast along, very easy going and not let too much bother me and then BAM, it happens.
Here's how it goes.
Matt?
What. (He sits calmly reading the paper.)
I can't stand this anymore.
What. (Good thing I can't see his "here we go again" eye roll at the kids.)
The toys!
What. (Kids leave the room.)
The clothes.
What. (He turns on the tv.)
The dogs.
What. (He pets dog absentmindedly as he turns on ESPN.)
The carpet.
What. (He sighs as he checks out the score.)
The money.
What. (He makes mental note to tell me about what he spent at Buffalo Wild Wings.)
ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?
What?! I said, What? (We go to McDonald's for dinner.)
The toys. We have too many toys. I love toys, the kids love toys, Matt loves toys. But I, well, I love them and hate them. I love the idea behind toys. I hate the clutter they represent. And I swear, toys breed during the night. They get put away at bedtime and are clean when we get up, when all of a sudden by 8:05, toys have exploded in the living room. I swear I could pick up all day long and they would still be everywhere. I'm pretty sure that toys have secret lives and when my back is turned, they scuttle out of the bins where they've just been placed back to the corner of the bathroom, my bed, under the crib, or on the dining room table where I just found them 5 minutes ago and put them away.
And McDonald's. God Bless McDonald's for those nights when I absolutely detest cooking, but I swear the Devil invented Happy Meal toys. I could go the rest of my life without ever looking at another Made in China car, transformer, neopet, movie character, etc. They multiply too. I used to pick up a few of those toys in the free pile at garage sales. Now I loathe them and try to dump them off in my free pile!
And who doesn't love baby toys? But what baby needs 27 BIG walk around, crawl around, pull themselves up, musical, letter chanting, cheerio/juice magnet toys? Okay, so 27 is an exaggeration, but even the 4 we have drive me nuts. And yeah, they're fantastic. When they're the ONLY toy you have for your ONLY child! But add two more kids and 4,000 other toys and it is enough to drive you over the edge. Can you tell I'm at the the three week freak out stage? And I already had my garage sale for the summer!
There are nights, those late up till 2am nights I occasionally have, where I actually get pleasure sorting out all of the toys. I get the bins from the basement, the boxes from the boys' room, the baskets and tubs from behind the couch, and the toy tub from the van and have at it. I sort animals, superheroes, balls, tub toys, guys, Little People (not real little people, you know the fisher price plastic ones that replaced the lead paint choking hazards I grew up with) and yes, Happy Meal toys. And the little people get sorted into Noah's Ark, the Farm, the Bus, the School. Yep, we've got it all. And there is always a Goodwill pile (those poor people, they must want to lock the door when they see me coming!) and a throw away pile. And I have to do all this in the wee hours of the morning because my kids would earnestly argue that they WOULD play with all of these and they WOULD put them away each night. And not only my kids, but my husband, too.
I laugh at those organizing articles in parenting magazines or on HGTV or TLC. The kids in those shows have maybe 10 toys and a room that's equal to the square footage of my whole main floor. And it's not a bedroom or a living room, it's an actual PLAY ROOM! I drool over the Pottery Barn catalog with the rooms and the organization that they have. If I had that much space, wow, could I be organized! Or maybe I'd just have more room for more toys. Then I'd REALLY freak out. But maybe it'd only be about every 5 weeks instead of every three!
And guess what, it was just birthday central at our house. You can't NOT give kids toys for a 3 year old and 5 year old birthday! And they loved it! And I want my kids to have toys. Just not in my living room, and dining room, and bathroom, and bedroom......
As much as I'd love to talk more about the clothes, the dogs, the carpet and the money, I have some bins, boxes, tubs and baskets waiting to be sorted. Don't worry. It'll be better in the morning. Until 8:05.
Here's how it goes.
Matt?
What. (He sits calmly reading the paper.)
I can't stand this anymore.
What. (Good thing I can't see his "here we go again" eye roll at the kids.)
The toys!
What. (Kids leave the room.)
The clothes.
What. (He turns on the tv.)
The dogs.
What. (He pets dog absentmindedly as he turns on ESPN.)
The carpet.
What. (He sighs as he checks out the score.)
The money.
What. (He makes mental note to tell me about what he spent at Buffalo Wild Wings.)
ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?
What?! I said, What? (We go to McDonald's for dinner.)
The toys. We have too many toys. I love toys, the kids love toys, Matt loves toys. But I, well, I love them and hate them. I love the idea behind toys. I hate the clutter they represent. And I swear, toys breed during the night. They get put away at bedtime and are clean when we get up, when all of a sudden by 8:05, toys have exploded in the living room. I swear I could pick up all day long and they would still be everywhere. I'm pretty sure that toys have secret lives and when my back is turned, they scuttle out of the bins where they've just been placed back to the corner of the bathroom, my bed, under the crib, or on the dining room table where I just found them 5 minutes ago and put them away.
And McDonald's. God Bless McDonald's for those nights when I absolutely detest cooking, but I swear the Devil invented Happy Meal toys. I could go the rest of my life without ever looking at another Made in China car, transformer, neopet, movie character, etc. They multiply too. I used to pick up a few of those toys in the free pile at garage sales. Now I loathe them and try to dump them off in my free pile!
And who doesn't love baby toys? But what baby needs 27 BIG walk around, crawl around, pull themselves up, musical, letter chanting, cheerio/juice magnet toys? Okay, so 27 is an exaggeration, but even the 4 we have drive me nuts. And yeah, they're fantastic. When they're the ONLY toy you have for your ONLY child! But add two more kids and 4,000 other toys and it is enough to drive you over the edge. Can you tell I'm at the the three week freak out stage? And I already had my garage sale for the summer!
There are nights, those late up till 2am nights I occasionally have, where I actually get pleasure sorting out all of the toys. I get the bins from the basement, the boxes from the boys' room, the baskets and tubs from behind the couch, and the toy tub from the van and have at it. I sort animals, superheroes, balls, tub toys, guys, Little People (not real little people, you know the fisher price plastic ones that replaced the lead paint choking hazards I grew up with) and yes, Happy Meal toys. And the little people get sorted into Noah's Ark, the Farm, the Bus, the School. Yep, we've got it all. And there is always a Goodwill pile (those poor people, they must want to lock the door when they see me coming!) and a throw away pile. And I have to do all this in the wee hours of the morning because my kids would earnestly argue that they WOULD play with all of these and they WOULD put them away each night. And not only my kids, but my husband, too.
I laugh at those organizing articles in parenting magazines or on HGTV or TLC. The kids in those shows have maybe 10 toys and a room that's equal to the square footage of my whole main floor. And it's not a bedroom or a living room, it's an actual PLAY ROOM! I drool over the Pottery Barn catalog with the rooms and the organization that they have. If I had that much space, wow, could I be organized! Or maybe I'd just have more room for more toys. Then I'd REALLY freak out. But maybe it'd only be about every 5 weeks instead of every three!
And guess what, it was just birthday central at our house. You can't NOT give kids toys for a 3 year old and 5 year old birthday! And they loved it! And I want my kids to have toys. Just not in my living room, and dining room, and bathroom, and bedroom......
As much as I'd love to talk more about the clothes, the dogs, the carpet and the money, I have some bins, boxes, tubs and baskets waiting to be sorted. Don't worry. It'll be better in the morning. Until 8:05.
Friday, April 4, 2008
super heroes
I don't remember being too involved with super heroes when I was young, but I do remember loving my Wonder Woman underoos! Truth be told, I really wanted Super Girl because Super Girl had the bra type top and Wonder Woman's was just an undershirt. Alas, I guess I'm more the Wonder Woman type anyway! I loved Lynda Carter's outfit on tv though. Wow, those bracelets would be handy even in 2008! And the head band, I could definitely use that boomerang effect when one of my kids takes off on me at the library or the mall. That would sure garner some attention!
On those days when I get laundry done, cook supper, play a game with the kids, read library books and shower I do feel like Super Mom, I don't think that's the kind of super hero my boys really mean when they play super heroes.
The idea of super heroes comes up often in our conversations, which occur mostly in the van as we drive from preschool to the library or the grocery store.
"Mama?"
"Yeah G?"
"Can I be Spider Man when I grow up?"
"Sure, you can be anything you want." I didn't have the heart to tell him that Spider Man is just pretend.
"But Mama?"
"Yeah G?"
"Who will make my outfit?"
"Ummmm....I don't know."
pause pause pause
"I know! Grammie can make it for me!"
"Yeah," I say, "Grammie can probably do that."
pause pause pause
"But how will she make it so I can shoot webs?"
"Ummm...I'm not sure buddy."
"Oh, okay."
pause pause pause
"Mama?"
"Yeah G?"
"Good thing Grammie can sew!"
"Yeah G, that's for sure!"
Other conversations center around what super hero each family member is going to grow up to be. Gabe used to say Spider Man, now he's on to Bat Man. Ben says he wants to be Super Man. The boys say Lyndee's going to be Spider Girl and currently I am going to be Spider Mommy. Sometimes Ben likes to argue about super heroes.
"I'm going to be Supa Man. But he's not a supa hewo."
"Yes, he is a super hero, Ben," both Gabe and I say.
"NO HE NOT A SUPA HEWO!" Ben says vehemently.
"Uhhnnnngggg....Yes he is Ben," Gabe groans.
"NO HE ISN'T!" Ben bellows.
This goes back and forth for at least a couple of blocks until I finally relent and say, "Okay Ben, we're not going to argue with you. You're right, he isn't a super hero. Whatever you say."
pause pause pause
"Mommy?" says Ben.
"Yeah B?"
"You mad?"
pause pause pause, pull the van over, park, unlock doors, get out, open driver's side van door....."No honey, Mommy's not mad. Spider Mommy doesn't get mad. She's a super hero."
I get back in the van, start driving again.
Ben whispers, "Spida Mommy NOT a supa hewo."
Sigh......
Mostly though, our super hero experiences center around the Spider Man costumes the boys wore for Halloween....and November 1-30, and December 1-31, etc. you get the picture. Honestly, I had to hide the costumes for a few days so that I could actually go somewhere without being two Spider Men in tow. Seriously, Spider Men went to Wal Mart, Sam's Club, Mom's group at church, the library, Hy Vee, the elementary school, play dates, and one day, almost to Sunday worship. On that day, I had to decide. Okay, what is my goal here? Is it to get to church or is it to have my kid dressed in a normal outfit? Fortunately, Ben relented and we actually accomplished both.
After a February hiatus away from the costumes (I think they were in the laundry for most of the month) March came and now they've added a twist to the whole Spider Man theme. Now, the boys want to be Peter Parker. Or Peta Pawka as they both say. Now, they wear their clothes OVER the costumes, waltz in to wherever I am and say, "Hi Mommy, I'm Peta Pawka." Then they speed to the kitchen and closing the pocket doors scream, "Don't come in the kitchen!" Then a few minutes later, one or both of them emerge and saunter up to me, waiting for me to notice the costume.
"OH! Hi Spider Man!"
"I'm Spider Man, did you see any bad guys?"
"Yeah, I think they went that way." I point down the hall. They run down to their room, turn around and run back.
"I got the bad guys!"
"Wow, thanks Spider Men!"
"Okay, bye!" They wave and exit back to the kitchen. Gabe gets his clothes back on and attempts to help Ben get his back on too. They saunter back out and say, "Hi, we're Peta Pawka again." And so it goes until they get tired of changing over and over.
One day, we went walking around the block and Gabe was Peter Parker with his costume underneath his clothes. You have to know that these costumes have built in padded chest and arm muscles so he looks pretty buff as he scooters around the block. He got a little ahead of me as we went down the hill and disappeared from my sight as I struggled a little with 3 other kids in the double stroller. I rounded the corner and there was Spider Man, err, Peter Parker sprawled on the ground. He slowly got up and tearfully announced that he wasn't going to scooter anymore. I was personally very thankful on that day for those built in muscles. If it wasn't for them, I'm afraid, I would have had some more serious injuries to deal with! I highly recommend full body padding to anyone who has a kid with a scooter!
Last but not least in our Spider Man experience, we went to Build a Bear a the Mega Mall a few days ago. Auntie K and Uncle S wanted to get the kids a present and since we had just eaten at the Rainforest Cafe, Gabe chose a monkey and Ben chose a gorilla. Once the animals were stuffed with hearts inside and sewn up, they got to pick out outfits for them. Of course, they picked out the miniature Spider Men costumes. Both of them. Then they got to print birth certificates for the animals. Now what superheroes inhabit our house? You guessed it, Spider Monkey and Spider Gorilla. What a trend. Well, it's definitely a trend this Spider Mommy can handle. I'll take super hero kids any day!
On those days when I get laundry done, cook supper, play a game with the kids, read library books and shower I do feel like Super Mom, I don't think that's the kind of super hero my boys really mean when they play super heroes.
The idea of super heroes comes up often in our conversations, which occur mostly in the van as we drive from preschool to the library or the grocery store.
"Mama?"
"Yeah G?"
"Can I be Spider Man when I grow up?"
"Sure, you can be anything you want." I didn't have the heart to tell him that Spider Man is just pretend.
"But Mama?"
"Yeah G?"
"Who will make my outfit?"
"Ummmm....I don't know."
pause pause pause
"I know! Grammie can make it for me!"
"Yeah," I say, "Grammie can probably do that."
pause pause pause
"But how will she make it so I can shoot webs?"
"Ummm...I'm not sure buddy."
"Oh, okay."
pause pause pause
"Mama?"
"Yeah G?"
"Good thing Grammie can sew!"
"Yeah G, that's for sure!"
Other conversations center around what super hero each family member is going to grow up to be. Gabe used to say Spider Man, now he's on to Bat Man. Ben says he wants to be Super Man. The boys say Lyndee's going to be Spider Girl and currently I am going to be Spider Mommy. Sometimes Ben likes to argue about super heroes.
"I'm going to be Supa Man. But he's not a supa hewo."
"Yes, he is a super hero, Ben," both Gabe and I say.
"NO HE NOT A SUPA HEWO!" Ben says vehemently.
"Uhhnnnngggg....Yes he is Ben," Gabe groans.
"NO HE ISN'T!" Ben bellows.
This goes back and forth for at least a couple of blocks until I finally relent and say, "Okay Ben, we're not going to argue with you. You're right, he isn't a super hero. Whatever you say."
pause pause pause
"Mommy?" says Ben.
"Yeah B?"
"You mad?"
pause pause pause, pull the van over, park, unlock doors, get out, open driver's side van door....."No honey, Mommy's not mad. Spider Mommy doesn't get mad. She's a super hero."
I get back in the van, start driving again.
Ben whispers, "Spida Mommy NOT a supa hewo."
Sigh......
Mostly though, our super hero experiences center around the Spider Man costumes the boys wore for Halloween....and November 1-30, and December 1-31, etc. you get the picture. Honestly, I had to hide the costumes for a few days so that I could actually go somewhere without being two Spider Men in tow. Seriously, Spider Men went to Wal Mart, Sam's Club, Mom's group at church, the library, Hy Vee, the elementary school, play dates, and one day, almost to Sunday worship. On that day, I had to decide. Okay, what is my goal here? Is it to get to church or is it to have my kid dressed in a normal outfit? Fortunately, Ben relented and we actually accomplished both.
After a February hiatus away from the costumes (I think they were in the laundry for most of the month) March came and now they've added a twist to the whole Spider Man theme. Now, the boys want to be Peter Parker. Or Peta Pawka as they both say. Now, they wear their clothes OVER the costumes, waltz in to wherever I am and say, "Hi Mommy, I'm Peta Pawka." Then they speed to the kitchen and closing the pocket doors scream, "Don't come in the kitchen!" Then a few minutes later, one or both of them emerge and saunter up to me, waiting for me to notice the costume.
"OH! Hi Spider Man!"
"I'm Spider Man, did you see any bad guys?"
"Yeah, I think they went that way." I point down the hall. They run down to their room, turn around and run back.
"I got the bad guys!"
"Wow, thanks Spider Men!"
"Okay, bye!" They wave and exit back to the kitchen. Gabe gets his clothes back on and attempts to help Ben get his back on too. They saunter back out and say, "Hi, we're Peta Pawka again." And so it goes until they get tired of changing over and over.
One day, we went walking around the block and Gabe was Peter Parker with his costume underneath his clothes. You have to know that these costumes have built in padded chest and arm muscles so he looks pretty buff as he scooters around the block. He got a little ahead of me as we went down the hill and disappeared from my sight as I struggled a little with 3 other kids in the double stroller. I rounded the corner and there was Spider Man, err, Peter Parker sprawled on the ground. He slowly got up and tearfully announced that he wasn't going to scooter anymore. I was personally very thankful on that day for those built in muscles. If it wasn't for them, I'm afraid, I would have had some more serious injuries to deal with! I highly recommend full body padding to anyone who has a kid with a scooter!
Last but not least in our Spider Man experience, we went to Build a Bear a the Mega Mall a few days ago. Auntie K and Uncle S wanted to get the kids a present and since we had just eaten at the Rainforest Cafe, Gabe chose a monkey and Ben chose a gorilla. Once the animals were stuffed with hearts inside and sewn up, they got to pick out outfits for them. Of course, they picked out the miniature Spider Men costumes. Both of them. Then they got to print birth certificates for the animals. Now what superheroes inhabit our house? You guessed it, Spider Monkey and Spider Gorilla. What a trend. Well, it's definitely a trend this Spider Mommy can handle. I'll take super hero kids any day!
Saturday, January 12, 2008
My BB Booster Night Speech
If you would have asked me when I was 8 what my favorite sport was, I would have said either floor hockey or canoeing. But, by the time I was 9, I’d found basketball. The Awesome Aces were my first team. My friends and I were so pumped up for our first game only to lose 6-4. I continued to play elementary basketball, attended bb camp including pace setter and Gustavus, and really grew to play competitively when I started 7th grade. I “tried out” for the B-squad only to be told that the coaches wanted to keep my grade level together. We had four centers and four quarters, so I suffered through a season of playing one quarter per game. Not to be deterred, I tried out again in 8th grade and was to told the same thing. Finally in 9th grade, I was allowed to play with the B-squad. I had a great two years there and two great years on the varsity. To this day, one of my biggest disappointments is not advancing to the state tourney in basketball. As a junior my team lost in the district finals and as a senior I fouled out in the last two minutes of the district championship, and my eighth grade replacement entered the game and scored the winning basket. We won the first round of regions and fell in the region finals to MACCRAY, in double overtime. MACCRAY had beaten us previously twice that year, so it was all the tougher of a loss. It was 1990 and I think we were really ahead of our time as we played an uptempo game, utilizing the full court press, on the line up the line, help and recover man to man defense.
On to the next phase of my life – Concordia College! I was actually recruited to run cross country and track and field at Concordia but when I made my visit, I entered the field house and knew I would have to give basketball my best effort. I played JV my freshman year, JV and varsity my sophomore year, then took a year away to devote time to my studies, and returned for my senior year where I learned some very valuable lessons that have assisted me as a coach. My education about my role on a team was defined in college when I went from 6th player to end of the bench water girl within about a month. Looking back from a coaching perspective I can understand the reasoning behind that move, going with a younger, stronger player, but it was very hard to accept for me. I am however thankful now for that lesson! After graduation, I took two years off of basketball, other than playing in rec league and then began the adventure of coaching here in Pine Island. I coached two years in the boys program and then made the switch to the girls, where I’ve been for the past nine years.
Since the implementation of Title IX, which allows girls equal access to athletic opportunities and facilities, there have been many changes. You’re fortunate that your daughters are growing up in a time in which female athletes are as deep a part of the fabric of High school as male athletes.
I’ve seen many changes in the game of basketball in my career including using the smaller ball, the advent of the three point line, the switch to alternating possession instead of actually jumping up the ball on a jump ball, the double bonus, letting a player continue to play with 5 fouls and then switching back again to fouling out, and now the switch from quarters to halves. Possibly in the future and hopefully, in my opinion, the use of a shot clock in HS girls BB.
Basketball, and athletics in general have played and continue to play a major role in my life. It’s how I decided what college to go to, how I met my husband, how I determined what career field to enter, and what led me to Pine Island. Not only that, but it has taught me major lessons along the way. Here are just a few of the characteristics that participation in athletics has taught me and that I try to pass on to your daughters.
Persistence
Patience
Attitude
Determining and accepting your role
Leadership
Understanding
Hard work
Being a role model for others
character
It’s always very gratifying to see parents in the stands supporting their daughters. Supporting your daughters in athletics does more than just provide some conversation around your dinner table. Girl's participation in athletics has grown from 1 in 27 in 1972 to now 1 in 3. Girls who participate in high school athletics have a lower chance of osteoporosis and depression. They have higher self esteem and are less likely to engage in risky behavior like using drugs or becoming sexually active. Girls in athletics are more likely to have a positive body image and therefore less likely to suffer from eating disorders. If you are the parent of one our athletes, we coaches appreciate the support that you give your daughters. I’d like to ask you as parents to do one thing - your daughters need to know that win or lose, starter or role player, you love her, appreciate her effort and aren’t disappointed in her. As one of your daughter’s coaches, I hope that my passion for athletics and being a positive role model can aid them in having an incredible high school basketball experience. I feel so fortunate to be able to continue to channel my love for girl’s basketball into coaching. Thank you for allowing me to play a role in your daughter’s life.
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