wanna-be Christmas letter ~ 2013

Dear friends,
This is going to be like the letter I might have enclosed in my Christmas cards if I hadn’t given up Christmas-card letters two years ago. I quit because I was juggling too many things in December. It was a tough decision. I hate being a quitter and it felt very much like quitting. Plus, I look forward to reflecting on the year that has passed. And I really enjoy reading the letters that we receive in the mail. So please don’t stop if you are a letter-writer!


We love Christmas; just not Christmas photos.   


 Our lives are recorded in many different places now, maybe too many places – sporadic Facebook posts and uploads, Instagram photos, infrequent blog entries (but none to speak of lately). I’m supposed to be scrapbooking, which I truly enjoy, but I feel totally defeated. I am still working on S’s baby book and he is 2.5. And I keep taking more and more photos every month. It bothers me that there are holes in their histories but something is better than nothing. No one can even promise me that my children will even be interested in these books 20 years from now! We take some iPhone videos and lots of video-camera movies (especially sports-related ones!) that get made into incredible vignettes by my talented Spielberg-esque husband. I treasure those home movies the most. Nothing, nothing, can beat hearing their voices and seeing their mannerisms after they’ve long since outgrown those darling little voices and mannerisms. Those movies make me cry.

This year has brought on lots of self-examination for me. In part, no doubt, because I turned 40 in November. I started this blog because I really miss writing and get lots of therapy out of the exercise. I ran a few 5Ks which I hadn’t done since 2008. I’ve tried eating crazy-healthy for 24 days. I took trapeze classes, which were a wicked adrenaline rush! B joked afterwards that he was afraid that I might run away and join a circus. And I swam with sharks and rays which totally put me out of my comfort zone. (Large, water-dwelling creatures have been prominently featured in my nightmares since childhood.) I also decided to take on some “work” in 2013:  some freelance editorial assignments and watching some beautiful children—in addition to my own—on Wednesdays (i.e., a baby boy born in January 2013 and a little guy the same age as Baby S).

This has also been my year of practicing gratitude. I’ve been sending God tiny “text” messages or micro-prayers. “Wow! Thanks for that sunset.” “That hymn just gave me goose bumps.” “Baby S’s eyelashes are two-miles long. How do you do it!?” It has made a difference in my life. If I’m not paying attention, I’m prone to be a the-cup-is-half-empty type of gal. I blame my over-active imagination and my love of drama and good story-telling (there is always a struggle and a protagonist!). But this practice has helped me center, look for the silver lining, and appreciate the gifts we’ve been given. 

The best gifts for 2013? (and any year, in my book): Jesus, God’s creation, my husband, my children, my extended family, and friends.

As a stay-at-home mom, I have less contact with the World of Adults and loads of time in the suburbs with People 8 and Under. They challenge me, infuriate me, motivate me, and gratify me. Someone asked what I do when I am not with my kids and I chuckled, in a bittersweet sort of way, because that doesn’t really exist. There is no time off. We are wedded to one another until they fly from the nest at 18. It is my prayer that they will grow into confident, compassionate adults. They are my career right now; they are my free time. I (usually) have the freedom and luxury of planning our days. We can spend time outside when the weather beckons. We can bake as long as we have the ingredients. We can read books. We can linger. You have permission to whack me upside the head if I take this privilege for granted.     

Something extraordinary happened this Christmas season. Something clicked. My kids wanted to give presents, not just get them. I don’t know if this is a rite of passage that every child goes through but I am pinching myself that it happened at our house. IMO and E both got enthused about wrapping things—some bought, some crafted, and some things we already owned—to give to others. I scarcely wanted to breathe for fear that they’d change their minds! It was such a magical phenomenon to watch unfold as a parent who has “forced” them into acts of kindness in the past, e.g., “kids, we are working at the food pantry today, yay!” It wasn’t easy for this Type-A mama to watch them waste two rolls of tape and yards of paper as they attempted to wrap presents. But those lumps of crinkled paper and adhesive made me so darn happy. And I am the proud owner of a paper bracelet from IMO that reads,“I am always with you.”      

IMO is eight. Third grade. He is somewhere between a little boy and a young man all rolled up in one chatty, energetic, lanky, blonde comedian. He is bright and loves school. He doesn’t like bedtime. B has been 100% successful in creating his exact replicate when it comes to a love of sports. They are two peas in a pod. IMO even had his own fantasy-football team this year. IMO seems older than his years in the way he cares for and loves his siblings. He is like a third parent—nurturing them and cheering them on. He loves basketball, science, and creative writing. My heart nearly burst with pride when he was recognized at school for a poem he wrote. I cherish every minute that he allows me to hold his hand or snuggle with him. I fear those days are numbered. “Thank you, God, for giving us this firecracker of a boy who has tested me, made me a better parent, and wows us every day with his enthusiasm, wit, and big heart.”

Miss E was born in the midst of sadness and turmoil in our lives—I still believe God sent her to comfort us and demonstrate His unconditional love. E talks about heaven and how excited she is go there, which can be quite unnerving when these conversations happen before she falls asleep. After I wipe away a tear, I feel the need to keep watch on her floor. She can be sassy and pouty like most 5-year-old girls but she is also exceedingly kind and empathetic. She spends her days thinking of things to do to make others smile. She’d give you her last nickel (unless you are Baby S and then she’d fight you tooth and nail!). E loves preschool and cannot wait to get to elementary school. She sings most of her day and begs to “bake something” every afternoon. She tap dances like an old soul. Crayons, markers, stickers, paper; these are her best friends. (Her human BFF is her same-age cousin, A.) She adores purses and luggage in all forms. E and I have bonded as the females of the family, a relationship I treasure. She is a tall, agile, blonde sweet-pea who is missing two teeth on the bottom. “God, thank you for the gift of E, the sweet and quirky angel who brings so much light and joy into our lives.”

Baby S is no longer the baby—a fact that is hard to swallow. He is all boy. All 32 pounds of him. He is fiercely independent and wants to do everything his siblings do. He learns quickly with two real parents and two pseudo-parents showing him the ropes. He is a charmer, for sure, but this one tests his mama the most right now. He needs me but he fights me. He can sustain a tantrum for more than 30 minutes after I’ve said “no” to a juice box. It better be S’s idea or else he’s not going along. He sleeps like a rock though and for this, his daddy and I are so, so grateful. S is athletic and goofy. His vocabulary exploded this year. He loves balls, books, Legos, and sugary foods. He may punch you in the face if you try to buckle him in a car seat but rest assured: he loves you. And he is usually the first to pipe up and say what he is “fankful for” at dinnertime. “Thank you, God, for the gift of Baby S who completes this family, cracks us up, and helps us see the world through his adoring eyes.”

B serves as the assistant director of the pharmacy at KU Med. Over a decade now! He continues to do some consulting work on the side and travels a bit for that venture. He will test for his black belt in karate next summer, after 4.5 years of intense training. We are so proud of his dedication! He loves sports, Walking Dead episodes, and playing with his children. The kids circle him like sharks when he gets home begging to play Legos or throw a football. They love their Daddy and so do I.

We’re thankful for B’s job which has allowed us to take two beach trips this year: once with the kids in March and once just he and I in November. Both trips were magnificent. And we thank my wonderful parents for watching our trio so that we could travel alone! What a gift. B and Miss E took a daddy-daughter trip to visit B’s mom in Williamsburg, VA, in May. We also visited my Grandma D in Missouri (who is 102), participated in an Althoefer family reunion in the late summer, and went to the Omaha zoo in the fall.     

It has been a wonderful year—just wished we could bottle up some moments to re-open and enjoy at any time. Too bad we cannot DVR our lives so we could play them back on demand.

We hope that you had a safe and peaceful Christmas. Here’s to a healthy start to the new year! I’ll leave you with a favorite line from O Holy Night.

 “Long lay the world in sin and error pining, till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn...”

 

 

With love,

Michelle
 

(Photo credits for the kids’ portraits and of us on the bridge go to my talented sister-in-law, Ashley Spaulding of Ashley Spaulding Photography.)

 

 

 

honey, I vampired the kids

 

after dark

My husband and I don’t get to go out very often. When you are a parent of young children you are often inside your house by the time it gets dark. There are times when I am totally freaked out driving at night because it happens so rarely. It’s like I need to relearn how to do it. It reminds me of the reaction 17-month-old S had when we drove around in December looking at Christmas lights. It was a mix of awe and terror. He would squeal, point, and scream, “light!!!” Can you imagine what their little brains are thinking? I don’t shout, “light!” when driving at night but I’ve thought it.

Anyway, B and I got to go out after dark last week. And we got to dress up! I felt like a million bucks after having my hair and make-up done by a friend (thanks, JH). Add a borrowed dress and jewelry (thanks, sis). Shoes and purse I already owned. (Did I mention that I am frugal?) B owns a tux, too, so we both got swanky and headed out with free tickets (donated to us by a group at the hospital) to a black-tie charity event called Treads and Threads at the Speedway. Hence, the race car in the photo. So the grand total of our romantic evening of wine, food, and dancing was $60 for the babysitter (plus the gas to get there). A night out with my Prince Charming under the stars? Priceless.

 

Postscript: I knew that I’d found my soul mate after seeing this man get down on the dance floor. Hubby’s got moves.

the last first day of preschool

It was a big day for us last Friday. Miss E finally got to return to preschool, one of her favorite places on the planet (on par with Grandma's house, Dominican Republic, and Chip-n-Dip restaurants). She launched out of bed and waited at her special spot at the table until I came down to make her breakfast. She was dressed and ready with more than an hour to spare. So I got to take her outdoors for some photos... something we both enjoy.

S wasn't clueing-in that this was her photo shoot.

So I gave him some camera time. Who wouldn't want to capture those chubby cheeks?

And... he still didn't get the hint once we arrived at school.

E wears her emotions on her sleeve. No poker face (or Old Maid face, in her case). You can tell she is quite peeved at this point. Haha! But we got the mission-critical shots with her beloved cousin and partner-in-crime, A, and with my beautiful sister. How lucky are we that we live ten minutes from each other and have daughters the same age!? (And her son and Baby S are only one year apart.) Blessed indeed.

They will not go to Kindergarten together next year. Not even the same school district. [sniff, sniff] We haven't really told them this. So my sister and I will cherish these sweet preschool years ~ when we ushered off our girls, arm-in-arm, to school. 

playing nicely

Dear E,
Thank you for playing with your little brother so nicely yesterday. He adores you and loves to feel included in your world. You have no idea how happy it makes my heart.

Love,

Mama 

What she said

I realized that I don’t need to blog. I just need to read everyone else’s clever blogs and then compile the highlights in one place. I keep reading things that that make me want to stand up and shout. 

OMG, this writer must be my blog-twin, my internet-doppelganger. I pretty much loved and/or agreed with everything she said. And she said it with grace and honesty. Read it.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/joy-gabriel/kate-middleton-and-the-mom-in-the-mirror_b_3672553.html

“Once you cross the threshold into motherhood, there is no going back. You might feel instantly and with acuity "Help! What did I DO? I'm not ready for this! Get me offa this thing! I don't know what I'm doing!" but it's too late. The curtain is up on the most important role you will ever play and it's OK that you and your body have shifted so that it fits. More: it is right and good. You're not supposed to zip up your old jeans and slip back into your old life.”

And I am also totally developing a blog-crush (hmm, would that be a ‘blush’ or a ‘crog’?) on Jen Hatmaker who writes with wit, truth, and panache. She could be a stand-up comedienne; her material is that good. She has nailed the conversational insanity that takes place between parents and young offspring. I’ve been wanting to study the patterns. I’ve already written about how my kids seem to stockpile demands until the second I enter the room and then they come flying out – like bats out of hell. [Read that post here.] The following dialog seems to preside in our house right now:

Child: a request or a whine

Me: a sensible answer (“not right now”/“let me think about it”/etc.)

Child: “Whhyyy?”

The Whyyys are dangerous things. They make a person crazy. How the heck does one explain Whyyy we don’t eat gummy worms before 8:00 a.m.? Whyyys are the reason parents say dumb stuff like, “Because I said so!”.

Jen writes about this, too, and much more in this riotous gem about the End of Summer Parent: http://jenhatmaker.com/blog/2013/08/16/worst-end-of-summer-mom-ever-a-sequel

She reflects on how she will spend her first hours of freedom after her kids return to school:
“What will I do? I will think my thoughts, which I haven’t heard since June 5th. I miss my thoughts and I look forward to seeing what they’ve been doing. For all I know they could’ve been curing cancer, but they’ve been stamped out by missives like He won’t quit touching my game/remote control/Afro and Could you make me a sandwich/pizza/taco and I am bored/hot/hungry and When are we going to leave/eat/bathe again? My thoughts have done all they can do for these people, and they’ve put in their notice.”
 
And then there is Glennon, dear Glennon (of Momastery fame), who is currently on a well-deserved sabbatical. Somehow the topics she writes about dovetail with sermons at church and with what is going on in my life, so she often seems magic to me. She touched me with her thoughts on loneliness and the internet. It struck a chord with our senior pastor, too, because he quoted her in a sermon.
  
Tom (our pastor) was talking about technology and how it has the power to connect us and the power to isolate us. He cited Glennon’s confession that while she has more than 80,000 readers, she hadn’t had a real, live conversation with a friend in weeks. This notion was already bouncing around in my head because I was working on a devotion and thinking about why Stephen ministry (more on that later) is so valuable: Stephen ministers give the gift of real, live conversations to those who are hurting in an age where face-to-face conversations are becoming rare.

Glennon writes:

“The internet, I think – is turning into a compulsion for me. I’m starting to look to it for my own worth. I’m looking to it for comfort and as a balm for loneliness. I’m using it to hide a little from real live people. And I’m using it to numb my feelings. To zone out. ... The internet is not bad any more than wine or food are bad. But we can use all three in ways that dull our spirits … Every once in a while, I need to silence all the thousands of voices coming at me through the internet so that I can hear God in me. That is the only voice, the ONLY voice, that I can trust will never lead me wrong.”

So, stay tuned. Listen to the voices in your life. Schedule time for face-to-face conversations with those you love and enjoy. I will too. And I’ll continue to regurgitate what other better writers have said so we can all learn together.   

Christmas in July

When it was in the 100s last summer, we decided to make July 25th a Christmas-in-July celebration. For starters, we needed to remember that it would, in fact, get cooler. Listening to Christmas carols in July can seemingly drop the temperature by about 20 degrees.

We decorated the house, strung up white lights, and invited family over to eat some favorite holiday foods. In our clan, that includes monkey bread and an addictive cheeseball recipe that you eat with pretzel sticks. We also baked gingerbread cookies. We read Christmas stories and talked about baby Jesus, crafted winter-y scenes, and watched Frosty. We wore festive red and green. I even drug out the bin full of mittens and scarves and let the kids pretend it was cold outside. It was a huge hit. Here are some favorite photos from that day:

So you can bet that my oldest two children weren't about to let me forget July 25th this summer! We were sad that one set of cousins was not able to make it and that my folks were in Colorado enjoying real cooler temperatures. But we put on season-appropriate ensembles, hung the stockings, fired up Bing Crosby, enjoyed a holiday brunch, and opened small gifts. (Next year I will probably just wrap things they already own.) My crew even blessed me with an early wake-up call, just like the real December 25!  

The night before, Miss E and IMO took turns closing their eyes while the other one hid "gifts" in the stockings—a totally unscripted bonus! Miss E was so thrilled to see the looks on our faces the next morning when we found our treasures, such as a (used) binky for Baby S and a (half-full) bottle of hand sanitizer for me. Hmm, maybe the kids should be in charge of stocking-stuffing from now on? Who needs to spend money on tossed-away trinkets?

I share this not because I want you to vote me Pinterest's Mother of Year but because it was a day when I felt successful as a mom. Those days can be few and far between. I felt like I had given my kids something out-of-the-box that they might remember. I felt present. The practical, bah-humbug side of me wasn't enthused about dragging out the holiday décor knowing I'd be charged with putting it away in the days that followed. (I cannot even handle 15 minutes of Play-Dough, for crying out loud.) But I squashed that buzz-kill of a notion and got it all out anyway. And it paid dividends.

"... Let every heart prepare him room,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven, and heaven, and nature sing."