My cup runneth over... and other Mother's Day Feelings

Mother's Day has always been a great day for me... I tell the children the story of the day they were born, they give me hand made presents I carefully tuck away to gaze at some time down the road when I can't believe how they grew up right before my eyes... I see my own mother and grandmother usually over brunch of some kind and generally walk around publicly feeling like a part of a pretty cool club, smiling at other mom's and nodding hello... but this year takes the cake.

It began with flowers yesterday afternoon and then a breakfast in bed made by the kiddos... followed by the presentation of home made gifts... a poem from my eldest he requested I read out loud full of beauty and charm, a clay flower pot from my daughter with the promise of filling it with flowers... and smiles all around.

But the greatest gifts were yet to be had. My son had a soccer game in which he expected to score a goal as a "present" to me. He played his heart out. Took a ball hard to the chest, stayed determined to keep himself in play, even lost his shoe at one point and kept playing right though it. When the game was over he walked up to me with tearful eyes and said he was sorry he didn't score a goal for me on Mother's day. I looked at him and said, "I'll take heart like that over a goal any day, kiddo. I'm so proud of you." The twinkle in his eyes and the smile that spread across his lips said it all: 'You love me anyway'. You're damn right I do...

We came home this afternoon and took a long bike ride down the trail. My daughter fell about five minutes into the ride, and after a little coaxing got back up and continued along the path. Well it was such a nice day and the trail was so clear we rode a two towns over before we knew it and decided it best to head back. Well my little kiddo was tired and her knee hurt and she was thirsty and she wanted ice cream and I looked at her and said I have none of those things. We're here. We need to get home and that's just that. What happened next was my other great gift of the day... She just started riding. That's it. All the way home. With determination and purpose and I saw, right then and there, that drive... that willingness to carry on even when the odds were stacked against her... it was huge to me.

I have always carried with me the hope that I might teach my children to persevere. Let's face it, as adults we live with that idea or we slowly spiral downwards... life is tough, but you gotta be tougher... that sort of thing. Well today, I saw that in the kiddos... and man was I proud.

Grace

Grace is one of the traits I admire most in people. Sometimes it's in grand form... fighting cancer, keeping your head up in a tough situation, taking the high road... but many times the beauty of grace is simplistic and brief. Witnessing it is something I take immense pleasure in... but I struggle with how to teach it to the children. It's a difficult thing to point out regularly... as it can be mistaken for kindness, an equally admirable characteristic, but more common and simpler to teach.

I've searched definitions like Webster's on line, http://www.webster-dictionary.net/definition/grace,"The exercise of love, kindness, mercy, favor; disposition to benefit or serve another; favor bestowed or privilege conferred."

Too antiseptic for me... So it seems to me the only way to teach the children to recognize and act with grace is to try to show it as often as possible and point out the examples when they show it and when we see it. I in no way believe this to be easy.

Owning your failures... forgiveness... strength... love... kindness... recognition... patience... it's everything you try to do as a parent... maybe that's why I witness it there. The seasoned mother who can transfer all those traits in a two minute phone message... the father who patiently sets and baits hooks for his young sons untangling lines and teaching instead of fishing himself on a rare day off... the mother who lets her kids "cook" with her for hours even when she's exhausted because she knows it makes them feel like they belong... the parents of the wheelchair bound child who never let her suffer for it because they're too busy taking here everywhere and doing everything with her as if she weren't... the father who coaches three soccer teams for his kids and still manages to compliment another parent for working the concession stand... the parents who's son gets JD but hardly skips a beat with anything he loves to do because they make it their mission in life to do so.

I feel exceptionally blessed to be surrounded by all kinds of graces every day, and even though I don't always succeed I try to emulate them... As far as the teaching children to recognize it, I'm thankful I have more time. It's a difficult lesson.

Sing. Sing a song. Sing out loud. Sing out strong.

Tonight with the little one's in bed I took a rather grown up and unpleasant phone call outside in the driveway. Well, the grown up part is a little debatable... but none the less... when I returned to the house my 7 and 9 year old were sitting in the living room with the TV off and do you know what they were doing? Singing. Just sitting there kind of harmonizing. I stood in the kitchen for a few minutes listening to them talking about the tea they were drinking and singing.

I guess it's moments like that that mean a lot. There's a peacefulness. A hope about their happiness. I would tell you now that although my life is a thousand times busier than it was a year ago, I couldn't be happier. I think as adults we're conditioned to roll through the trials awaiting the glimpses of happiness that appear regularly to let us know it's ok to take a breath... The rest is a mixture of heartbreak, disappointment, challenges and bullshit. That combined with regular doses of mis-interpretation and political maneuvering can make for a bleak existence. Witnessing the singing, or a random act of kindness from the children is renewing on even the toughest of days.

As parents it's easy to overlook such a thing. Or a picture they drew in school. A contest they won. An "A" they got. Even the simple gratitude shown to me by the 4 year old today... she thanked me for calming her down. It was genuine and sincere and I loved how beautiful it was. Getting too wrapped up in the noise of life drowns out the songs. Gotta keep listening for 'em.

chiggity check yoself...

No one ever said parenting was going to be easy. There are those who play up the gratifying elements as you thoughtfully pat your swollen belly with the first one... but after that, there are no punches to be pulled. It's hard hard work.

Parents of blended families have the added challenge of co-parenting with often times less than agreeable non-costodial parents. There are the basic conditions... when to pierce your daughter's ears, soccer season schedules, the importance of homework completion... yearly physicals... and then there are the more difficult issues... discipline, PG-13 movies, bedtimes, what constitutes an appropriate babysitter, an acceptable period of time before introducing the latest girlfriend. Either way, it gets tricker... especially when there is a vast moral difference between you and your ex. Even with the loving support of a dedicated partner the conflicts with the non-costodial parents can be draining. In our case, the moral compass of both the exes points almost 180 degrees opposite our own.

So you stand up for morality and goodness and honesty. All the while trying not to express to your growing children that one of their parents is a stark raving sociopath who directs their energy solely to the gain and benefit of themselves alone. (*counts slowly backwards from 10)...And you pray. Pray that they pick up the good that they can from their brief exchanges every other weekend. Pray that they have an ounce of the common sense you're sure they must have inherited from you... and that the stable home you work so tirelessly to provide wins out.

My money's on the good triumphing over immorality... I've gotta make that bet.

Peace and Quiet

Peace and Quiet. Two of my oldest and dearest friends have been long absent over the past year... At least in the middle of the afternoon. The older ones are at school, the toddler at pre-school, the baby napping, and the dogs tired out from a walk. So many choices to make... Do I nap? Do I blog? Do I clean? Do I poop alone? Or do I just sit and enjoy the brief and fleeting moment that is the sanity of this sunny, springy Monday. Well, for those of you who know me... you know I'm gonna do it all.

blue plate special

So today the recipe for the melting pot went a little something like this...

*breathes deep*

Coffee brews around 6:15am... send text to supervisor to insure appropriate payment for part time job. Find out later supervisor uses cell phone as alarm clock and was awoken by said text... mental cringe.

Anyway, coffee: check. Baby awoke screaming an hour prior to the coffee brewing, so there was an hour or so to fade in and out of the news and cuddle with the dogs before the elder children tumbled out of their rooms...

Kix, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Instant Breakfast, blueberries, strawberries and baby cereal mixed with yogurt... kitchen cleanup #1. Check. Phone calls to potential customers made from the sanctity of my 10 year old Honda, a.k.a. "office". Check.

Invite from friends to lunch at the best taco joint in town... ummm... YES PLEASE. But first... meatball making with the girls... Pork, Beef, roasted garlic, chives, parmesan, and little hands to do the mushing and rolling... perfect. I'm not advocating child labor, but they do make perfect meatballs. That, and cooking with the children is literally one of my favorite things on earth to do.... Lunch for children, and kitchen cleanup #2... check.

Shower prior to lunch with friends, sadly no... meatballs took longer than expected... teeth, blush, and new lipgloss almost make it look like I did though... Check.

Put baby down, and beg children to get dressed and go outside PUH-lease! It's 75 degrees! Check.

Then organizing weekend last minute charity fundraiser, about a dozen Capri Suns, deli sandwiches, work, and soccer practices later, there's baths, showers, a movie with the older ones... check.

And finally, a bottle of Turn Me Red, snuggle time with the man...whom, by the way, this day would not have been possible without... and at long last, a shower...

And it's only 12:15am the next day...

A long recipe? Yup. A happy family? Yup. Doin it all again in 6 more hours? You can bet on it.

the pendulum always swings back...

Yesterday was a day for taking stock... and while I typically try to employ some humor in these posts, I'm not sure if it fits. In the morning after getting the school-aged children up and out the door I drove to visit my very new baby cousin... who is beautiful in every way. Not only was he graced with an indescribably lovely baby cry in the key of C, he is all kinds of beautiful born to beautiful parents who couldn't be prouder. He will don carefully chosen clothing to leave the hospital in his expertly installed car seat where a warm stable home awaits filled with love and acceptance. I cried on the way home. I cried for his blessings... and for my own. I hope his future is filled with all the grace and love his brand new life deserves.

I went to work this same afternoon in a very different environment. I was awaiting dismissal and listening to a sweet little boy talking to his teacher and thinking on that sweetness when he casually mentions this sentence as if he's discussing weekend plans:

9 year old: "We're moving."

teacher: "You are?"

9 year old: "My Dad and I live with my Grandma and the house is going into foreclosure so we can't stay."

teacher: "Oh."

That was the exchange. So matter of fact. I had to step into the classroom because I felt like I got punched in the stomach. The vagary of it all. The fact that a nine year old was aware of "foreclosure"... the fact that the teacher's reaction was the same as it might have been when he heard the lunch specials earlier that day... it just floored me.

I guess it was just a wake up call. That everyone has their problems... and that I can't save them all. I wondered if I would ever develop that type of callous the teacher seemed to show... or if that was even what I witnessed... maybe it was just the well crafted response of a bleeding heart like mine. Maybe I'll have a response like that someday, too.

Bah... I'm not a judge of anything... except for who actually started the fight in the bathroom last night while brushing their teeth. Or who was actually playing with the DSi first. I should be so privileged.

So I'll just send a silent message that stability finds that family and all the other ones like that and worse... and try to roll through my own with a little more grace and candor... at least until the next fight breaks out...