School Days for the Big Kids

It's September, and that means the scent of freshly electric-sharpened pencils is in the air.  Oh how I loved school!  Getting organized and doing things in an orderly fashion appeal to the concrete sequential in me.  (Seems like that part of me has been hiding very deep down lately.)
 
The kids are off to a good start this year.  Tom is tackling 3rd grade, Lucy is in 1st, and Jim is taking a new route as the first of our kids to try Montessori-style kindergarten.  Jim is a little shy, peeking his way into the classroom each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.  I hope the year fills his heart with a bit more comfort and confidence as days continue.
 
This morning, Tom was so excited to hop out of the car and race into school that he opened the sliding van door and bolted.  "Tommy!  Get back here!"  I called, "You forgot my kiss!"
 
He puckered up, and gave me a quick-as-lightening smack.  "I love you!"  I called, watching he and Lucy bolt for the building.  "Have a great day!"

 

"You too, Mom!"  he called back.

 

And off he was, on his big journey.

Goodbye!

The end of summer!   
 
So many mourn the passing, carefree days, but I am here to tell you there is a silent minority cheering for summer's exit.  And it's me. 
 
I can't take another day of 3-a-day gushing milk spills on the kitchen table.  I don't want to step on another spilled goldfish cracker on my living room floor.  I've grown weary of hanging towel after towel on the deck.  I'm fresh out of ideas for patiently guiding siblings away from boxing matches in the car.
 
The summer days have been long, and unscheduled.  Towards the end here, they have loomed before me like ominous storms.
 
A couple weeks ago, a woman with two kids commented to me that it sure gets easier when they're older.  I took a look at my baby, toddling through the waiting room at swim lessons with snot dribbling down his nose and mixing with drool and slipping down his chin.   He was giddily trying to grab up everything in sight that didn't belong to us, and I bit my tongue from saying out loud:  I've got a long time yet before that comes.
 
But still:  deep breath.  Next week, with fresh number twos and Crayolas and minds, three of my kids will march into a productive, sibling-free zone.  They will read and do math and stay away from video games without me reminding them all day long.  They will prosper!   They will flourish!  They will joyfully take up the task of learning!
 
Or maybe it's me that will prosper and flourish.  And breathe. 
 
It's the end of summer!

The Morning Chaos

I am so much more of a perfectionist than I realized.

Every day, I wish the day could start with a kid-free workout and a cup of coffee before the chaos ensues.  I haven’t yet worked up to the 5AM wake-up call that would require for me. 

So, it isn’t that. 

Instead, today began around 6 when my eyes popped open with a bit of sunlight streaming in through the bedroom curtains.  I grabbed a shower, knowing my exercise would be on hold because we have a morning playdate scheduled.  I heard Frankie cry out for a moment, but I ignored him as I ran down the stairs and pulled out of the driveway to grab coffee for John and me. 

I feel a constant pull between perfection and reality.  I dream of a family in which no boys talk about poop or penises.  A family where people pretty much always say please or thanks.  A family where I ask for help, and the answer is, “Sure, happy to lend a hand!”  Or at least yes.

Don’t get me wrong:  my kids aren’t horrible.  There are lots of pleases and thank yous, and lots of helping hands.  Just this morning, Jimmy unloaded the dishwasher and Lucy played nicely with Frank, keeping him out of trouble.  But in between those nice moments, there are children who scream just to experiment with how screaming can sound.  There is a baby grabbing all my recycling from the container with the broken lid.  There is laundry coming from every orifice of the home, and a particularly demanding child who yells in my face in a way that is embarrassing and infuriating.  I am trying to keep my cool, but just being around this much action is giving me a bit of a nervous tick.

Parenting is so indescribably hard.

I’m having one of those days when I wonder if I am really cut out for this.  Can I even get it done?  It seems like I’m slipping.   Beyond wondering if I can ever leave the house with it being in reasonable order, I wonder if I can raise these kids into relatively competent adults. 

Logically, I know other homes are going through the same struggles.  But it feels so lonely and isolating to be here as the primary caregiver.  I feel unqualified; my own weaknesses glaringly revealed when a child has a short temper that mimics my own.

It is a hard morning.  But there is sun outside and I suppose we will get through it. 

How many days until school starts?  

A Leader in the Faith of our Family

Every so often, I walk into a room and find my breath taken away because my husband is the man of my dreams.
 
Quietly, ever so quietly, he remembers to teach our children prayers, to read to them about our faith, to pray the rosary.
 
We don't have to make a strategic plan.  He doesn't let me know each time he shares a kernel of wisdom with one of them.
 
He just does it because he believes, and in the quiet of his heart, he listens to God telling him how to be a wonderful dad and how to lead our kids in a way that is soft-spoken, but powerful.

June 11

Lazy summer days.
Tie dye tshirts, cotton blowing through the breeze.
Lucy on the monkey bars.
Trip to the dollar store.  "This is my heaven!!" -Tommy
Planning boys' birthdays.
Swimming lessons.
Baby walking behind a push-stroller in the front yard.
Lucy losing another front tooth.
Jimmy keeping up with the big kids---not just quite.
Sleeping the afternoon away in Mom and Dad's bed.
Love these children.
Need a glass of wine. 

Almost 5 Jim

10 Current Things about Sweet Jim
 
1.  Playing baseball for the first time on a team with Lucy and cousin Walt.  (Go Rattlers!) Made up his own snakelike cheer before the season started.  Favorite part of the game is chatting with the coaches while they are pitching/catching.  Seems less interested in hitting the ball, because the longer he stays at bat, the more small-talk he can make with them.
2.  Randomly introduces himself to people.  Today?  A barista.
3.  Compliments mom on new outfits or jewelry.
4.  Has a running list of several girlfriends.  Recently wanted to bring cupcakes to school for them with real engagement rings as the token gift in the frosting.
5. Has trouble controlling physical exuberance.  Ran right into a parking lot today, narrowing evading death after a loud shout from mom.    When I asked him why he didn't stop upon seeing an oncoming car, he responded that while shouting, "Yay!" his body just couldn't stop going.
6. Loves a good cleaning project.
7.  Reads quietly and puts himself down for a nap by choice often.
8.  First one awake in the morning.
9.  First one asleep at night.
10.  Philosophical and inquisitive.
 
What a sweet, crazy, loving guy. <3

Almost Eight, Pretty Great

Dear Tom,
 
Tonight I held you in my arms on our new deck chair.  We were wrapped up in a pink heart quilt, and you told me about The Lemonade Wars and wondered when the stars would come out.
 
You talk in third person.
 
You look like a young man.
 
Where has the time gone, Tommy?  Somehow, my oldest child, life has sped up and you've grown into someone so funny and intelligent and strong.  It's hard to even remember you as a little guy.  Now you're holding Frank and grabbing my bags to carry them for me.  And even holding open doors.
 
I am so proud of you, Tom, for the love you have shown me this year.  You are learning to feel what is deep within you, and to show it.  You are going to be an amazing man when you grow up.
 
I love you.
 
Mom

Wrinkly Chlorine Toes

Baby,
 
It was your first time swimming at the pool tonight.  This spring has been so long in arriving.  I piled you and the big kids into the minivan after school, and figured I'd take my chances supervising the rowdiest four kids in town.  I didn't expect you to be terrified!  I just walked into the water with you in my arms, and your arms wrapped around me for dear life.  Your face collapsed in tears, and your siblings and I didn't know what to do.
 
After about 15 minutes, we climbed out of the pool and watched from the sidelines while your teeth chattered and you warmed up in a few gym towels.
 
Later, we tried again.  This time, you started sitting on the sidelines of the zero-entry area, getting used to the idea of the pool.  (Apparently a professional mom should have figured this was the best approach.)  You were much happier.  You smiled cautiously, and wandered about with a dive-stick in your mouth. 
 
I can hear you peeping in the crib upstairs right now.  I guess it's time for real instead of virtual parenting. 
 
Thanks for today, my little Frank.  You are such a sweet, sweet part of our family.
 
Love, Mama

The End of Winter

It is one of those weeks when I can't seem to stay on top of what I need to get done around here.  Every time I think I'm making headway cleaning a toilet, the kids are busy dumping tiny legos out in a fury of creation in another part of the house.
 
I keep trying to chill out and understand that this phase of my life will not last forever.  But it has been a long time.
 
Truly, I often dream of a week in which I can clean the whole house for a day (or even two!) and then just sit in a clean house without one additional thing breaking or tumbling down the stairs.  I guess everyone has a dream, right?
 
It's been a long winter.  When I look back on my adult life, it surprises me to realize that the times of great joy have almost invariably been times also of great challenge.  Every birth and infancy in our home has been that way.  I suppose there is a euphoric elation that accompanies challenges, allowing us to see our blessings even when we are entrenched in a trial.
 
Frank is asleep, and there are about a hundred things I wanted to accomplish in the the short window before he is crawling around and stick fingers in outlets again.
 
Back at it, I guess.    Friday Funday.

A Mother of Many's Confession

It took me 3 practice kids before I realized what a true blessing it is to hold Frankie long into the night, rocking him as he is sick, holding him when he needs me.  It is amazing to me how much love continues to grow within me:  when it seems your heart is bursting and full, there is room to love beyond what you believe is your capacity.

9 months

 

Baby Frankie.  My doodler.  You were rolling around with stinky toes and then crawling around after Christmas.  And then exploring the knobs and giggling when we looked at you funny.  And sucking down your bottle, except getting distracted by all the action at our house.

 

 

 

You were growing and growing, reaching for cords and sticking your fingers in outlets.  Grabbing for tiny legos and laughing, laughing, laughing when we told you no.  Eating whatever food we put on your tray.  Stuffing your face with Cheerios and almost choking.  Snuggling so sweetly while we read Goodnight Moon, or while we sang karaoke on your sister's new machine.  Or while your siblings played piano and Daddy read the paper on the big blue couch.

 

You were held in a fort of blankets and playpen.  You were protected by a team of 5 older housemates.  You were loved and loved and loved in a way that means the heart can keep growing wider and beyond the capacity than any human believes it can grow.

 

You were standing up after Daddy taught you, even though Mom told him not to teach you.  Just stay little.

 

You were eating spaghetti and gulping down a drink of water...and in the same night, standing up in your crib and crying for Mama, Mama.  And then when Dad picked you up, saying it finally, nine months old:  "Daddy!"

 

Oh how we love you, Frankie.

 

Love,

 

Mom, Dad, Tom, Lu,  & Jim

Satisfaction Guaranteed

It would be nice if raising kids came with a long-term guarantee.  For instance:  After all the hard work and years of doing laundry, enforcing discipline, creating opportunities and trying your best to be a good role model, your kids will turn out remotely normal and they will shake your hand, say thanks, and love you unconditionally. 

The Shining Moments

Dear Tom,
 
Oh, parenthood!  It is so easy to get overwhelmed when you kids are squabbling and asking for stuff.  Not always politely, I might add. 
 
Let me go backwards a bit, though.  This week, you have had some TRULY shining moments:
 
-Boldly inquiring as to whether Grandma M might like to purchase a copy of your first book report for second grade.  (She did...for $1.  Go businessman!)
 
-Sensitively drawing a picture for sick Grandpa M of you and him fishing side by side.
 
-Singing like an angel beside Mom at church after sitting quietly and reading...without interrupting me once...for a very long parent meeting at church.
 
Let me remember these moments, Tom.  Let us both celebrate the love and ingenuity in your heart.  Too many times in families, the hard parts drag us down.  I want to remember that you fill my heart with joy and affection and pride.
 
Love,
Mom

Parenting Boys

I've given up, in some ways, on the idea of a perfect family.  As any real parent might tell you, one of the more difficult things about being a mom or dad is accepting that you can not control what your children do.

Even typing that out is difficult.

One thing I have struggled with tremendously as a mom is witnessing aggressive behavior traits in my children. 

Aggression in children is normal behavior.  Children feel angry when their toys are snatched up by one another.  They feel jealous when a sibling receives more attention.  They feel hurt when they are left out of an experience.  Sometimes these strong emotions cause them to want to retaliate in sometimes violent ways---tantrums, hitting, powerful words, throwing items. 

I don't want my children to use these methods of retaliation.  I want them to own their feelings, to seek solace independently or from me.  Sometimes, having three children so close in age (now 7, 5, and 4) seems to create this impossible situation whereby I must be a patrol guard as well as a full-time baby care-giver to Frank. 

How can I do it all?  Am I even strong enough to be this mom?

I want to do everything I can to protect my children and to prepare them to be amazing, selfless adults in the future.  I want to give this parenting thing my full shot of effort.

Sometimes there are intense moments when John and I wonder, Are we giving enough?  Are we getting this right? 

The finished product is so many years off yet.

One thing that has been on my mind for quite some time now is parenting boys specifically.  I feel ill-prepared to handle the special qualities of energy and emotion-bottling my sons are (so far) prone to exhibit.  I can already see Tom bottling feelings up and hiding from me.  How do I change this trajectory and encourage him to share himself with me?

<3

Dear Frank,

It is just too much, really.  Every day that passes, I love you more.  I love you so much that you drool all over me, and I laugh and let it sink into my shirt and neck and face.  I love you so much that you burp, and it smells like intoxicating perfume.  Is this even possible?  Is it even possible to be so enamored with my son?

This is it.  Before you, I honestly never understood the moms who didn't want to leave their babies at home for an extended break.  I grew overwhelmed with diapers and sleepless night and runny noses.  And somehow, Frank, you have cast a magical spell of maternal wooziness upon me.  Your giggle and dimply smile are everything I need to believe my day is perfect.

Oh, how I love you, my almost-crawling baby.  7 months.

Your,
Mama

The Lesson I Don't Want to Forget to Teach You

Dear kids,
 
There are so many lessons I have left to teach you.  Sometimes the thought of your future----and the things I want to teach you yet----can be overwhelming.  With Frank waking up from a cold tonight, and Jim wandering the hallway with a nightmare, I woke up in the middle of the night.  Somehow my worrying mother-mind travelled to who you would all marry in the future.  What kind of people will you choose to open yourselves up to many years from now? 
 
It is so silly to even consider such things now.  Lucy, at age 5, you are laying on the floor of our bedroom in your ballet tights, leotard, and tutu.  You had your first lesson just tonight. I had to promise you that you can put your tap shoes on right away in the morning just to convince you to go to bed.
 
Tommy, you are so young yet that you wrote your very first book report last week.  How proud your Dad and I were to see you working so hard....taking such care in doing a good job at your school.
 
At any rate, I figured it was as good a time as any to tell you, as a group, that I do want you to carefully consider the kind of person you marry.  I hope that when you meet someone, and fall in love, you remember that person should treat you with great respect and dignity every day.  After all, you are our children and you are God's children.  We all deserve to be treated with great dignity on this planet.
 
When I was growing up, I watched my sister date a few young men.  I didn't have much dating experience as a teenager, but I suppose I learned a few things from her experiences....and from seeing how my parents tried to teach her about dating.  I remember at one point that my Dad had a short list going of things that really matter a lot in finding a spouse.  Some of them were pretty darn practical.  I wish I remembered them all.
 
Here are a few:
 
1.  Does he/she know the meaning of the word "work"?  
 
2.  Does he/she have any kids you don't know about?
 
3.  Does he/she have any addictions?
 
4.  Is he or she from a good, wholesome family?
 
Gosh, I might have to check back in with your Aunt Sarah and Uncle Chris to remember the rest of the list.  I think my Dad's general hope was tha we would realize that when you marry someone, you marry all the baggage he or she carries from his or her whole life.  You marry the emotions from an addiction she conquered at 16. Or you marry the family who raised him.  You marry the boy who just can't hold down a job...or instead, you marry the boy who does whatever he can to find a job and work hard to keep it.   Sometimes when you are a teenager or young adult falling in love, it is difficult to ignore your impulse and realize that the inner ethics of a person matter more than how he or she looks on the outside.
 
Of course, my Mom would have chimed in with a more spiritual component of whether or not the prospective spouse was Catholic.  We weren't taught to only marry Catholics, but I think the overarching message was clear: marrying someone who values God and has faith in God should be a priority.
 
It's late tonight, so I just don't have time to expand upon these many ideas, ideas it took my parents a great many years to teach me.  But I wanted to grab onto this idea, and tell you kids:  Choose wisely.  God has a plan for you and your future spouse, if that is your path.  You deserve to be loved greatly, and in turn, you should love your spouse greatly, putting him or her before yourself again and again in life.  As he or she will do for you.
 
All my love.
 
Your,
Mama