The Home Team

On Friday night, we went to the first home football game of the season at our local high school, a short walk from our house. B and A had come home from school that day asking if we could go. Apparently, it was the talk of the elementary school during recess. So, we said sure and headed over.

We moved to this town about 3 years ago, when they were in preschool. For those years, your friends are still your friends (not the parents of theirs). Now, with our schedules being what they are, we hang out with our neighbors and families of B and A’s friends primarily. This seems to be a natural progression for most families.

I couldn’t believe how many families and kids we knew once we got to the football field. It was so fun for B and A to be able to walk around saying hi to everyone. They knew one of the cheerleaders; she is our neighbor from two houses down. A loved watching the girls perform. Some of the players were older siblings in families we’ve gotten to know. B got a kick out of that.

We took a seat and formed our own 2nd grade section with 2 rows of kids cheering and clapping wildly for their local team. The kids had a blast and the parents chatted about the start of the new school year. It all felt very small town, very community oriented. It was nice.

This surprised me a little. Why? Well, T and I have moved so many times since we first married. There have been 12 different places in 14 years that we have called home before moving into our current address. Is it no surprise that I never feel quite settled into anything? This house is the longest we have ever lived anywhere.

One of those included a move to New York City when B and A were only a year old. It was a time that I cherish and love. It was one of the most exciting and enjoyable times of my life. When we returned to this area, T and I had a very difficult time selecting a suburb in which to live. For various reasons, we ruled out living in the city here and decided to look at the suburbs. We even rented a house for a year while house hunting each and every one of those suburbs. You have to understand that we both grew up in this area and were already very familiar with most of them. That fact did not seem to aid us in our search. Nothing seemed to feel just right. So, with trepidation, we selected the area that we live in now; a nice suburb with pretty homes, good schools and a community focus that we appreciated.

Over these last 3 years, I cannot tell you how many times we’ve second-guessed our decision. We are very far out from the city that T works in each day; a city that we both adore. But, we moved forward with putting down roots. And now, on a night like Friday night, I realize that is just what we have done. We’ve given our kids a community to call home. A place where the parents look out for one another’s children. A place where they can always find a friend to say hi. Whether T and I are ready to call this place home or not, to our children, it clearly is just that.

The Good Mother, The Bad Wife

Yesterday, my husband asked me if I could join him on an outing with his boss and his wife and a client and his wife. It should have been a fun time. Wrigley Field, the Cubs, an afternoon game. How could you go wrong?

Unfortunately, it fell on the same day as B and A’s first day of school. We live a ways outside of the city. So, my parents would have picked them up from school. They’d be the ones to have gotten the scoop about their big day and seen their little expressions as they raced for the lobby. I couldn’t miss that for the world.

So, I had to let my husband down in order to support my children. How often does that happen? Probably, too often.

I am forever grateful that I have a husband who is supportive of our family first and foremost. We are the reason that he works as hard as he does.

Sometimes, I feel like a split person. On one hand, I have my children and on the other my marriage. One cannot survive with out the other. One is responsible for the other. I don’t want to let either down. I always strive to be the best that I possibly can on each end.

Yet, if we’re keeping score, the children often win out. I think T believes this should be the case also. But, I do miss the times when it was all about supporting each other. A time when I could listen to tales about his day uninterrupted. A time when it was his hand that I was always holding.

We are doing exactly what we should be doing right now. Holding onto little hands, guiding their way and listening to their troubles. Wanting and trying to make time for each other as well. I am so lucky to have such an incredible person, who shares these views with me. I look forward to a time when my focus will shift again. Someday, we will return to being a couple. But, for now, we are first a family.

Hopes for the New School Year

I’m sitting here trying to glue my heart back in my chest. Today, my children went back to school. B and A were so excited to get started with 2^nd grade. 2^nd Grade! Wow. When did that happen?

This year was easier on me (and them) than last year. They were thrilled to be going back and meeting their new teachers and spending time with friends. I had my small mommy meltdown last night with T. Each year, it just breaks my heart to let them go. If I were honest, I would keep them at age 3 or 4 and home with me all the time. No, I could never be that selfish. Could I?

During the school year, I feel that I hardly see my children. I know, it sounds weird to me too. But, it’s true! After a full day at school, we come home around 3:30 pm. Then, there is homework to be done, piano lessons, soccer practices, religious ed., brownies etc. etc. etc. Throw in dinner and baths and we have a maybe an hour or so of time before bed at 8:15. Pathetic, I know.

I rack my brain trying to figure out what we are going to do about this. Too many activities, perhaps? However, they are not into any more than most children their age. There is no solution that I can come up with. I think it’s just a factor of them growing up. They have separate components of their lives from me now. It’s not all day long with Mommy; day in and day out any more. This is much harder for me to accept than for them. This I know for a fact because my children are not the ones clinging to their mommy’s leg crying on the first day of school. And for that I am grateful. It means that I have done my job up to this point.

I think that’s why I cherished the summer so much. Just good quality time with all three of my children. Waking up each day without a set agenda and nothing that couldn’t be altered if our moods felt like it. Now we are back to rushing around, meeting schedules and a checklist that needs to be completed.

I hope this new school year helps us to get back into routines that are positive for us. For the kids, I hope for lots of learning and making of new friends. Growing each day a little more. For R, I hope that her and I get a chance to bond now that she is acting more like a little person each day. And lastly, for me, I’d like a little time to exercise both my body and my mind. Perhaps, if I put all of those hopes and dreams onto that checklist, we may be able to accomplish some of them.

Last Day of Summer

Last day of summer. Can't waste it... See you tomorrow!

Laundry Fairies

There has been a slight shift around here in the status quo. Since I stay at home, the majority of the household chores fall on me to maintain. So, for the last 7+ years, I have done most of the cooking, cleaning, laundry etc. for our family. Pretty typical, I know. But, a pain in my you know what none the less. So, imagine the elation I feel when I realize that the dishwasher can be emptied by the two 7 year olds who live here!

Lately, B and A have been much more helpful in maintaining our household. They’ve really stepped up to the plate. (No pun intended.) In addition to the dishwasher tidbit, they can also help put away their folded laundry. Shocking, I know! That is my least favorite part of the laundry routine. Now, I do often have to go back through their drawers and tidy up what they’ve put away. But, I’ve found that if I just let go of the idea that their drawers need to look a certain way, I can get another task around here accomplished with a little assistance.

This is such a great feeling! In some little microscopic way, it signifies to me that they are growing and progressing towards becoming independent little people. Sometimes, we see these changes in big, meaningful ways. The way they handle themselves in a tough situation at school or with a conflict between friends. Sometimes, it’s apparent in the little minute ways, such as laundry.

What a feeling, that for the first time in a long time, not everything has to be my responsibility around the house. I’ve been raising these little people for 7 years. And now, they are contributing to keeping our family running on a daily basis. I have to say that this feels really good. So does not having to put away the laundry!

Memories of a Summer

Pool time gardening running through the sprinklers bicycle rides cross country road trip time on an island playing in the sand learning to boogie board the zoo fireworks picnics art in the park feeding the ducks sidewalk chalk bubbles wiffle ball games a new basketball hoop baseball games soccer time with friends popsicles ice cream washing the car sleepovers splash park trips to the city roasting marshmallows over the fire mini golf playground walks in the neighborhood barbecues with friends and family paddle boats on the river catching fireflies digging for worms swimming lessons time with my children a slowed pace sunshine on their faces laughter everyday

How did time slip by so quickly? I just spent 78 short days with my children. And, as you can see from the list above, we tried to make the most of them. Hopefully, we created some memories that will last. The things they’ll look back on once they have children of their own and say “Oh! That’s what summer is to me.” On the top of the list, I always want them to be happy. And what’s a more perfect time to find happiness than in the summer? I think we captured that this year. So, on we go to find the joy in fall. And to try and remember that even though everyone is back at school and not together all day, there’s lot of fun to be had there as well. Here’s to the end of summer and the start of a new season for us all.

What Might Have Been

Is it wrong that I get depressed watching High School Musical 3? It’s not for the reasons that you’d think. I’m OK with the fact that I’ve seen it 200 times and that I can recite every line by heart. I’m even all right with the fact that I sometimes find myself humming the songs in the car. (Even after I’ve dropped everyone off at school.) I really am OK with the fact that I think Zac Efron is cute. Some might think that this is a tad cougarish, but that’s not what’s got me bugged.

When I see that movie, it instantly transports me back to High School. So clearly I can see T and me at that time. What I hate is that that time has passed for me. It makes me sad that the hope and optimism of having your whole future ahead of you is no longer there for me. In a nutshell, this movie makes me feel really old…

Don’t get me wrong. I would change very little about my life. It has followed the path that I hoped and planned. I met the perfect person for me in high school. I have been with him ever since. And together, we have 3 absolutely wonderful children. We’ve worked hard to fulfill our dreams and most of them, so far, have come true. We have been very blessed.

I know what you’re going to say. You wouldn’t want to be back there anyway. But, you know what? Maybe it would be fun to get a second chance to indulge in what you missed the first time around. I did not study abroad in college. It took me 2 schools before I found the right one at which to study. I would like to have moved to a really exciting city right after school to experience something different for a while. Before I had to decide that I want my children to live close to their extended family in a city I am so familiar with.

We all have secret wishes for what might have been. I realize that there will be even more as I continue to age. I just can’t believe it took Troy and Gabriella to make me feel so contemplative about getting older. Maybe I shouldn’t worry about maturing so much. Clearly, I have a way to go…

Funny or Die?

Yesterday, I wrote about being under the weather with a cold. By the way, I’m starting to feel much better, thank you. Here is the detail of a conversation I had with my 7 year-old daughter, also yesterday.

A: Mom, are you feeling better? (She asked not in an upbeat sort of way, but in an extremely concerned kind of quiet way.)

Me: Oh yeah A, thanks for asking. I do feel better today. Doesn’t my voice sound lots better?

A: Yeah it does. (She says in a very surprised way.)

Me: A, why does it seem you are so surprised that I am feeling better?

A: Well, because Daddy said on Sunday that you sounded like you were dying. (She says as her eyes begin to fill with tears.)

Me: A, did you think he meant that I was really going to die? (I said in a startled, oh no bad parenting moment coming sort of way.)

A: Yes, I did. (Full tears now in eyes.)

Me: Oh no! Daddy was just exaggerating. (Me proceeding to give lame examples involving eating like a pig, tall as a giraffe. What the hell do all of these examples have to do with animals?!?)

A: Oh, ok. So, you’re better then? (Her tears stopped. She’s starting to move on from my clutching embrace to go play.)

Me: Yes, I’m feeling much better. Totally better. Err, thanks for being concerned?? I love you. (Me moving towards phone to verbally kill husband…)

After a delightful phone conversation with T, I started to think. Do I not even warrant a good bye or I love you with all of my heart, Mom? She thought I was going to die yesterday, but pretty much acted normal all day. Either I am way more replaceable than I would like to think or she is one brave little cookie. I’m sort of hoping it’s the later.

The Summer Cold

Achoo! It’s my turn to be the baby today. I have a cold. A very cruddy, runny nose, sore throat, coughing, want to sleep all day, but can’t cold. In August.

I blame it on Back to School Day last week. That school is a death trap. We stepped foot in there on Wednesday (after having a completely healthy summer) and by Friday- hello cold! I am the only lucky one to have caught this. The kids are all healthy and so is T. Usually, they’ll get it first and after I’ve mopped up everyone’s noses for the 3 weeks it takes to cycle through all of the kids, it’s my turn. So, this is a twist for us.

I can’t remember the last time I had a true cold. It’s been quite a while. Elementary school has brought out illnesses that I haven’t experience since I was a child myself. Don’t even get me started on my paranoia of the stomach flu. No less than four times in the first two years of school did I share that lovely morsel with my children. One particular episode began the night before Christmas Eve and continued right through New Years Eve. It involved a new washer and dryer purchase and the rental of a carpet-cleaning machine. I’m still reeling from it through flashbacks. In addition, I have also caught three bouts of strep throat over the last two years. Nice huh? I swear B and A started school and my immune system crashed.

This was our last weekend of summer before the kids go back to school. We were scheduled to go to a lake not far from our house for a weekend of boating and beach fun. I was so disappointed that it had to be cancelled. And even more disappointed that the summer is ending and school type of things like germs are coming back into the picture.

However, I did receive some excellent care this weekend. While I whittled away through a box and a half of tissue (not exaggerating), my little ones and my husband took great care of me. T made me tea. B and A snuggled up on the couch and watched some bad sitcoms and movies with me. And R was well behaved. This was perhaps the best contribution of them all. She is my sidekick and usually cannot do well with out her adequate Mommy time. About every 5 minutes one of them would ask, “Mommy, are you feeling better yet?” “How about now?”

This morning I woke up feeling a little better, have some of my voice back and enough energy to take care of the 3 munchkins by myself for the day. Well, at least enough to throw in movies and make sure no one is seriously injured. Maybe I can even get them to sit still long enough for one last day of snuggles before the craziness of another school year begins, sneezes and all.

Rodeo Buckaroo

Lately, I’ve gone from Mommy to rodeo worker. My little buckaroo is 2 years old. And, man, she is a champion at this sport. Here’s how it works. The event kicks off with us attempting to get into the car. (This usually takes a few tries in itself.) Once we’re in, that's where the real cajoling takes place. I am reduced to bribes.

R, please get in your car seat.

We have to take B and A to school.

R, please we are going to be late.

R, you have a warning.

If you don’t get in the seat now, it will be a timeout.

Pause for 2-minute timeout…

OK, now that is settled, so let’s get in the seat.

No, R, you cannot sit in a booster seat.

Please get in the car seat.

That’s a one, a two…

Pause for another timeout.

This one results in me picking her up and attempting to physically place her in the car seat. And that’s where my little champion really begins to shine. She has moves that you would not believe. Now, I don’t want to get into specific numbers here, but I do outweigh her by over a hundred pounds. You would think that would put me at an advantage. Not over my little rodeo buckaroo. She puts it into full gear, bucking and kicking and wrangling in a way that you cannot even imagine. If I was not too busy sweating and wrestling myself, I would probably be extremely proud of her inevitable future in bull riding. However, that will have to wait for another day. For now, I just need to get out of my driveway…

Back to School Day

Today was back to School Day at B and A’s elementary school. It’s the day set aside to find out your teacher, check out the class lists, pick up school supplies and volunteer for PTO boards.

The 2^nd grade has an infamously poor teacher at our school. No one wants to be in that class. Usually, I try to take these rumblings with a grain of salt. One person’s love is another person’s hate. You may not always agree with the other moms, even if they are your good friends.

However, it was not a small rumbling. It was an all out battle cry and revolt against the authority (otherwise known as the principal). The peasants, I mean parents, were rising up.

Several threatened to pull their child out of the school and run for the nuns at the Catholic school in town. Others threatened to go over the principal’s head to the district level. I’m not making this up. I heard it directly from these mother’s mouths.

There were the parents that blame this teacher for their child’s self confidence or lack thereof. There were parents that blame this teacher for their child’s falling behind academically. Towards the end of last year, it was one saga or horror story after another.

Of course, I had worked myself up over the odds of someone in our family not getting this teacher. We have 2 students and there are 3 classrooms. Not looking so great.

T told me that I was to put aside all of this nonsense and get on with my summer. No use in worrying about something that was almost 3 months away. Thank God someone around here was rational. So, I did just that. But, as August approached, I began to fret again. Tossing it over in my mind. Do I make a stink if one of them gets her? Do I have the ability to make a stink? Confrontation is not one of my strong suits…

This morning, I was giving the troops my pep talk about the excitement of a new year. All of the teachers are so nice, you may or may not have so and so in your class, but that is ok as there are so many friends to be made. I found myself jittery with nerves. What did lie ahead? A blissful year with an organized, cooperative learning environment or complete chaos? Would it be as bad as everyone was making it out to be?

I did not even realize how nervous I was until we walked in and saw the lists. Both B and A did not get that teacher. They both have excellent teachers and their best buddies in their class. My whole body relaxed and I took a breath. Then, I laughed at myself. How ridiculous was it to get this would up about the unknown? I hate when I do that. And I swear, I’ll never learn. Maybe I need to go back to school. I wonder who my teacher would be?

My Friend

I miss my friend. I met her at a restaurant when my twins were only 2 and a half. She started talking to my parents. I wasn’t paying attention. I thought it was another person commenting on “the twins”. It turned out that she had boy girl twins also. They were 6 weeks apart in age from B and A. How perfect was that? Not to mention we got along great and so did our husbands.

So, for the next few years, we were inseparable. Outings to the park to recoup our sanity, trips to the zoo and the splash park, movies in the winter. Too many play dates at each other’s houses to even recall. It is this woman who I will always remember as an integral part in my survival of B and A’s toddler hood.

She was my go to friend when I just couldn’t take it any more. She understood the twin thing. She even had it a little harder with a third baby 13 months younger than her twins. Being that close in age, he fell right into the group with the older kids. We caused quite a scene wherever we went. A large group of 5 children almost all the same age will do that.

When B and A were almost 5, I had R. That was the first crack in our relationship. She did not want to be tied down again by another baby in our group. It was obvious and sometimes vocalized. I didn’t really blame her. Sometimes I couldn’t believe that I was starting over again also.

She became restless and tired of her daily routine. No longer satisfied with “just being at home” she looked to go back to work. That was the second crack. She was no longer home and I didn’t really want to hang all day with the au pair while the kids played. So, we started doing more with other friends where I could also socialize with their moms.

We are still friendly-don’t get me wrong. We occasionally will have dinner at each other’s houses and our kids are on some of the same sports teams. But, it’s just different.

We ran into each other this week at a restaurant near my house. She was on her lunch break from work and meeting a colleague. Dressed to the nines in a skirt and matching accessories, she met an attractive man wearing a suit. I walked up to her before he arrived to say hi.

I was having a tough day with the kids. I had showered, but my hair was still wet. I had no makeup on. I was wearing shorts, flip-flops and a t-shirt. There I was with my 3 children and also my 90-year-old grand parents (who are sometimes more work than the 3 kids). She looked at me like I was an alien that she hoped would leave before her lunch date arrived. It made me sad. We used to come here for lunch all the time with the kids. It was such a glaring example of how things were so different in each of our lives now.

I was in line behind her to order and she didn’t turn around once to acknowledge me, much less introduce me to her colleague. I’m not so sure I would have either. She didn’t come over to say goodbye. In between retrieving the food on the ground and running back and forth from the counter for our lunch, I couldn’t find her either.

I think I’m a reminder to her of what life used to be like and of what she’s missing at home. And she’s a reminder to me that I am so far away from having a career or from looking that presentable any time in the near future. We’ve each taken a different path. I’m sure at some point they’ll be headed back in the same direction. But for now, I just miss my friend.

Two Feet

Oh how cute they are. The tiny chubby toes, the beautiful smooth skin, the thickness of them. I love my children’s baby feet. They are by far, my favorite body part. Perfect and pink. R, who is still two, has the cutest feet of them all. They are just perfect. Her 10 little piggy toes. I love to eat them up and make her squeal with delight. I shower them with kisses and in return I have gotten some on my feet as well. I quickly responded, “Oh no yucky! Don’t kiss mommy’s feet.”

Mine are grown up feet and not cute anymore. They get pedicures to look presentable. They have walked many miles. The heels are worn from chasing children barefoot during the summer. Yet, how sweet is it that at two there is not a moment’s hesitation in returning a beloved kiss to mommy’s foot? You have to marvel at that innocence.

My twins are now 7. The other day, I looked at their bare feet. They were not kissable looking. They were regular people feet, larger and thin. They looked like they’ve been walking for a while now. I felt a genuine sadness about this. My first babies. They are moving forward each day, marching on. Further away from me. With each step, getting closer to standing on their own two feet. Waiting for another period of their lives to begin when someone will want to kiss their feet again.

People say to enjoy the last one, the baby. Cherish each moment. Well, I wonder at what age the feet kisses will stop? Is it coming soon? 3 or 4? Because I didn’t notice the last time. Better run and catch her while I can for a few more…

The Time to Shine

We are entering the dawn of a new day. I see it just peeking its sparkly head around the corner. Life with a pre-teen girl. It’s on the horizon. Just sitting there. Mocking us. Waiting to descend full time…

Right now, A is 7 and a half. Recently, she’s begun experimenting with some pre-teen type of behavior.

Jewelry is now being added to every outfit. Requests have been made for nail polish on the toes this summer.

In addition to the physical changes, she’s trying out a new giggly laugh. She mimics some girly type squealing of her girlfriends when she’s with them or has just seen them. Everything, from a bug that landed on her at her twin brother’s soccer game to her sister coughing on food at the dinner table, evokes a very dramatic, slightly drawn out response.

I know that this is normal. Her father, on the other hand, is about to lose it. See, he is the youngest of 4 BOYS. Not a girl in sight in that house growing up. So some of A’s new idiosyncrasies have started to get on his nerves. They had 2 clashes this weekend alone. I tried to explain to him what’s going on with his sweet little girl.

She’s just figuring out who she is and how to act feminine for the first time. She wants to have some fun and get a little attention in the process. A has always been a very non-girly girl. She’d much rather run around outside on her bike and play soccer and baseball with her brother than play dolls. She does not own a single Barbie (thank God) or Polly Pocket. So, this is a bit new for us.

She has always been such a sweet, kind and good child. I hope as we approach this new time in her life, she’ll continue to always show those great aspects of her personality. However exaggerated they may become. Above all, I hope that she has confidence in herself and her decisions. This is what I tried to explain to T. We can’t mock this behavior because it’s going to help her figure out who she is about to become.

I only hope that her preteen self is as wonderful as her little girl self-dressed up with some additional sparkle and a little glitter of course.

The Guilt Monster

Last night, R (my 2 year old) fell asleep completely by herself. Shocking, I know. This has been quite a struggle for us lately. She claims to be afraid of the windows in her room. She is afraid of her curtains. She is scared of the lack of light. The list goes on and on. So, I should have been thrilled that this happened. However…

After a long day at the splash park, followed by soccer camp for her brother and dinner out, the kids were showered and in my room a waiting their nightly cuddle time. I ran downstairs to do a few minutes of tidying up and to change the laundry (OK and check a blog or two…). I was down there 10 minutes- max.

I came upstairs to find her older brother and sister watching a show sitting on the floor and there she was up in my bed. She had her 3 stuffed animals, her blankie and was wrapped up in her favorite Cinderella blanket from downstairs. On my pillow, next to her, was the book Mommy Loves Me. She had obviously brought it up there for me to read. The day’s activities had their impact on her and she passed out from pure exhaustion.

I asked B and A whether or not she said anything to them or if she asked for me. They said no, she just climbed in and fell asleep.

And that’s when instead of relishing the fact that she was already asleep, along came the guilt monster. I swear I can have mommy guilt about anything. I wouldn’t have felt so bad if she just fell asleep. But, it was the Mommy Loves Me book that did me in. I was cleaning house and on the computer instead of snuggling and reading that to her. I felt guilt about that. Here, she had gone through the motions of her bedtime routine by herself. I felt guilt about that. She is only 2 after all.

When I think of R’s baby and toddler hood, I am conflicted. At times, like tonight, I am completely amazed and proud of her independence. I mean, how self-sufficient can you be at 2?!? Yet, sometimes, I am sad that she lives such a different 2 year-old life than her older brother and sister did at that age.

Their toddler hood was filled with only age appropriate activities. We were almost always home for their bedtime at 7:30 pm. And they were never exhausted from trying to catch up to someone 5 years older all day long.

R gets shuffled around to so many activities. She spends more time in the car than I even care to think about. She watches Hannah Montana. (I can’t believe I just admitted that.)

My husband was the baby in a family of 4. He survived. He did loads of things that were ahead of his age group at the time. He tries to reassure me that she is getting things from having an older brother and sister that they didn’t experience. I just hope that some of them are positive.

You can bet money that I’ll be up there tonight for bedtime and an extra snuggle. And this time, I’m going to be the one bringing Mommy Loves Me. Because after all, at 2, someone should still be tucking you in at night-especially with those scary windows and all…

The Uniform

Yesterday was all about B.  First off, he has been attending his soccer team camp all week.  This is the first event of the year for them.  It is his first season playing on a travel team.  And he is extremely excited! 

So, their uniforms were distributed yesterday.  For the price of one kidney, you received 2 jerseys, 3 pairs of socks, 2 pairs of shorts, 2 t-shirts and a rain jacket.  This loot was all packaged beautifully in a plastic garbage bag with his name on it.  You would have thought I handed him the Holy Grail.  The look on his face was priceless.  (Well, actually, it did cost that small kidney…)  This child has been asking since we found out he made the team, back in May, when the uniforms would be coming.  

Last night and then again this morning, he has worn them around the house.  Right now, he is modeling this season’s rain jacket.  All of this excitement regarding the uniform makes me wonder if that is the primary reason he wanted to play for this team. 

His father and I have enrolled him in sports in hopes of fostering a sense of team.  We wanted him to get some physical activity.  And above all else, so that he can learn the value that hard work is often directly tied to the amount of success he’ll have in life.  The more you put in, the more you get out.  Not to mention, hoping he’ll learn the difficult lesson that sometimes you’re going to lose.  And that’s OK- as long as you get back up and try harder next time.  A lesson we think is all but erased from today’s modern parenting styles. 

So, with all of our grand ideals for B and his sports career at age 7, I think it comes down to this… 

Those are some really cool uniforms.        

The First Time

I’ve toyed with the idea of writing a blog for some time now.  I’ve debated whether I’d have enough to say on a daily basis.  I’ve questioned whether anyone would really read it.  I’ve asked if it’s too self-involved.  

Some people write for the experience of writing, while some are trying to chronicle the minutiae of their family lives.  As I sat and tried to contemplate what my reason was behind writing a blog, a few things came to mind. 

Yes, I did want to leave something behind for my children.  However, it was not a desire to chronicle every trip to the zoo or craft project that I lovingly thought out for them to do.  I wanted them to see what my personal thoughts were as I was mothering them. 

I am also looking for some clarity for myself.  We get so wrapped up in the millions of things we need to do on a daily basis regarding our children.  The trips to the doctor, soccer practices, piano lessons, meals, girl scouts, laundry.  Sometimes, it’s the stepping back.  The taking down of the mirrors.  The twist of the kaleidoscope to try and adjust.  I want to see the colors clearly, individually, and not just the image as a whole.  To be able to garner the recognition of the thoughts and feelings that goes into the actions of our daily lives.

I’m hoping to recognize that, for me, the love I feel for my children and my spouse, is the guide for everything I do.  Happy blogging!