A Tough Goodbye

Last week, we lost some family to the west coast.  They packed up a UHaul full of the things we had known in their home for decades, and scattered a few things in new directions.   They cleaned out the wooden-planked bedrooms.  They painted the white picket fence.  They passed the windowboxes onto a new family, and began a journey to make another house become home for themselves.

Here, we waited for their moving truck to swing through packed with cats and loving faces on the way to the final destination.  We hoped for everything to be shiny for them, but our hearts filled a bit with sadness at losing our own closeness.

We wonder what their days will bring so far from everything they have known.  New horizons, new coffee shops, new neighbors, new schools.  Visits from relatives who are now the ones just a drive away.

Sometimes we need a fresh start to begin anew.

We facetimed the west coast family this morning, and took a house tour to see the digs for ourselves.  After the iPad clicked away the scene, I choked up with so much emotion.

Now Lucy and I are baking an angel food cake to make the sadness feel a little less consuming.

For my Sweetheart

Dear Jim,

I love six years old.  This summer, you are the sweetest of boys.  When I jokingly say I am being the meanest mom, you're right there behind me saying, "No."  When I ask for five hugs a day (that's a minimum!), you oblige with a series of super-sweet squeezes.  You ask for me to lay beside you in your bottom bunk cave at night.  You still want to be my little boy.

What a smart boy you are, Jimmy.  You love to achieve goals.  This month, we have a calendar on the wall for each child to track reading, math, and piano practice.  Hardly a breakfast can go by without you running to finish your song to mark off the work.   Your sister and brother lag way behind.  I don't know if it is the skills themselves so much as the organization you love.   A check-list is a friend to you and me both.

More than your math or reading smarts, though, Jimmy, what I notice most about you is your sweet, sweet nature.  You are so kind to others.  You see Frankie fall, and you run to him with such a tender hug.  You meet a friend at swimming, and you offer to share your allowance to buy him an ice cream treat.  

You have such a big and open heart.  What a gift, Jim.  What a gift you are to others in your life.

I am lucky to be your mom.  On the days your wild energy seems enough to propel a train, I must remember to pray for that energy to one day move a mountain for good.  I don't doubt you will do it.  I hope first grade is as magical as you are.

With so much love...Your,

Mama

For My Special Girl

Dear Lucy,

A little picture of you smiling in a striped navy and white tshirt stares at me from next to the computer screen.   You are just you in that picture---not frilly, not fussy.  Your hair is pulled back in a pony tail.  Your eyes are shining.

I love the you, Lucy.  I never could have imagined up a daughter who, before talking, could befriend a gang of older kids alongside her in the gym daycare.   I never could have dreamed up one who would tell older boys, flat out, if they are going to swear, then she won't hang out with them.  I never could have imagined a daughter who would try so hard to do everything right, and yet be her own sweet, individual self. 

Second grade is so close you can touch it, Luce.  You have worn that new plaid jumper all around the block.  You labeled your own supplies, and I'm certain that within the week, you will have collected the phone numbers for kids to come on over.  You plan out your own way.  

Sometimes it seems like everything you touch---swimming, reading, soccer, gymnastics---is easy for you, Lucy.  But that's not really how it is.  You make things look easy because you aren't afraid of hard work.  You think of a piano song you want to learn, and you pound away at it again and again.  You pick out a book and decide you will read it through----on the first day you can actually read.

You are a whipper-snapper and a true gem, Lucy.  May the sidewalks ahead glitter with excitement.  

I love you!!!

Your, 

Mom

Dive In

Dear Tom,

My almost fourth grader.   You are not the greatest swimmer.

This week, you have been in the pool every day at swim school.  You've made your way up the swimming levels for about six years now.  Back in the day, thirty minute lessons felt like mother/son torture.   The attention span just couldn't hold out that long----from any angle.

But somehow, in this moment, thirty minutes blinks by so quickly.  You are asking me when it's your turn to jump in.  You are pulling on flippers, and propelling through the water with four different strokes.   

You are getting passed by the other kids...

And you still keep going.

My son, I don't tell you that swimming isn't natural to you because I want to hurt you.  I tell it to you for quite the opposite reason.   I am proud of you, Tom.  You don't complain.  I have seen you do activities you love, and I know swimming is a challenge that you don't relish.  But you get in the pool and you smile.  You haven't even mentioned that others around you are stronger swimmers.  You push forward, and after several laps, I see your breath is labored and your challenge is great.  

You keep going.

I admire this persistence of yours, Tom.  In life, none of us can be a natural at everything.  And yet still, we need a fundamental knowledge of so many skills as we go through our days.   This week in the pool, you are practicing one of those skills in addition to a more daily skill of just doing what has to get done in life---without complaint.

This fall, you and your Jim and Lu will start a new adventure together at Catholic school.  I know we've told you this a billion times, but we couldn't be happier at this chance for our family to find faith in the classroom.  Not every child has this opportunity.  We hope that your teachers will help you learn more about God and about your unique gifts.  We hope you will find your niche and continue to grow that great brain.

It can be so hard to start in a new place, Tom, but honestly, I'm not really worried about you.  You have a soft spot for helping others and following rules, and you are an amazing kid.  There are big things ahead for you.

I love you so much. 

Your, 

Mom

More Like a Life Wish

Last night, our bed was overly-full with kids as we sat down and relaxed, watching Leave it to Beaver.  Throughout the night, we had a few pop-ins from kids with nightmares and various "dire" needs.  Today, my big kids are off to school and the littlest hugs me so sweetly and tightly.  I just wrote a note to John, and realized that soon, our team of kids will be 9, 7, 6, and 2.
 
To the woman I met this week who wondered if four children was a death wish:  It really isn't.  It's a wild and crazy ride...and it's not for everyone.  But from where I stand, being a mom to four kids like mine is a pretty beautiful thing.  I wish I had known how to convey that to you in our brief interaction this week.

just more info on kids and the internet

Last night, Lucy told me she wanted to do someone homework for her homeroom class.  "We're studying the life cycle of a frog, and I need to do a report on it, Mom.  I have to get it done tonight."
 
She went on:  "Well, it's not actually homework.  I just want to do it."
 
How my heart burst with pride for my over-achieving, studious girl!   We opened up Google and found a great resource for her unnecessary report.  She copied down notes, printed out a picture for the cover, and was pleased as punch with herself.  So was I. 
 
This morning, I got an email from her homeroom teacher.   "The mating habits of frogs???  This is my laugh for the week!"
 
And then I went back to our great resource, and realized just how descriptive it was.
 


 

Sleep-in Morning

Dear kids,
 
Before you wake up, I am sipping my coffee and wondering about the number of quiet minutes I might have.  We had a great night last night.  Dad suggested dinner at the Rainforest Café, so we picked him up from work in the minivan and made the trek.   Everyone was tickled with the moving animals, starry sky, and kids' menu.  "Monkeys!  Mama!! Monkeys!"    Even our littlest got into the fun.  I couldn't help but think back on the one other time we had eaten there as a family on Jim's 4th birthday.   It was two years ago already!   How did that time slip through our fingers?  I remember so well your joy at the sparkler birthday dessert and the Build a Bear workshop.   Frank was just a newborn in a baby carrier.
 
We stopped at Nickelodeon Universe for a few spring break rides, and we ventured home.
 
Tommy and I drove separately to grab groceries.  And get this, my kids:  Tom helped the bag boy pull a second grocery cart out to our car, unload it, and then unload the groceries at home.  And he asked to help put groceries away after that.  Pretty good stuff for an 8 year old.
 
I am so lucky to have four amazing kids.  Sometimes I forget to note how amazing you are!  You are growing into polite, creative, thoughtful people.  You are learning the nuances of friendship, failure, and determination.  It seems like every single day is packed with opportunity.   Summer is coming quickly, and I am looking forward to adventures with you people. 
 
Still asleep up there?   I can hardly believe it.
 
I love you guys to the moon and back.
 
Mom

Three in Three

It is beautiful.

They are peeling with laughter,

Tripping over one another in Twister,

Giggling to choking over popcorn at brother jokes.

Slap happy.

They are asking for a brother sister sleepover.

They are breaking one another's Lego ships and saying it's ok, it's easy to fix.

They are bitter enemies and united allies.

They are sharing their stories of sadness and sharing their glories of accomplishment.

They are doing everything they can to be like one another,

 

And yet everything they can to distinguish themselves as the best.

A sibling team.

They are three kids in three years.

More than we could handle and more than we expected.

A crazy gift of joy and chaos in every moment.

The diapers, the accidents, the naps faded away to an energy unparalleled.

Oh that their laughter would echo decades from now.

That their joy might lift up one another's life in the every day.

This team of monkeys.

A Sunny Winter Morning

Oh family.
 
Jim woke up at the **crack** of dawn this morning.  He starts out with a high-pitched yelp, somewhat from fear of darkness and somewhat to awaken the rest of the household.   It's a bit of an exasperating stage of kindergarten---farting jokes and loud, spastic gestures for effect.  Please calm down, little Jim.
 
The extreme cold broke this week, so I sent the big team outside at 7:30.   There was a flurry of tree-climbing activity (Jim fell), and some ice-throwing.  Then they settled into Team USA bob-sledding in the backyard.   In their minds, it was all gold.
 
Parenting has been a challenge for me lately.  The older kids are SO busy and loud.   They hunger for more and more exercise, food, books, crafts, etc.   They actually amuse themselves very well, but it's their overall energy level that keeps the house feeling frenetic.  I'm weary and agitated.  Just their arrival home from school, with all its noise and commotion, gives me a bit of a nervous tick.
 
Frank is not quite as loud as the team, but he's toddler-boisterous, anyway, and certainly monkeylike.  I can not believe how much of the day he spends finding chairs and stools to push over to a counter for a boost in height.  Now that I think of it, I suppose it would be rather frustrating to feel like all the good stuff has been put out of reach.  I can't quite imagine it as an adult!  
 
It is not all bad around here.   I think the winter has left me in a cooped-up funk, but I don't want to paint the picture as so dismal.   Being a mom to a team of elementary school kids is a proud and beautiful thing.    Just this morning, I cleared the fridge of the fruits of kid labor:  a special napkin sending phonetically-spelled love from Jim for Mom, a carefully drawn picture of the family in some kind of space war.  We also have a crazy troll chia pet, some banana bread, and a Hello Kitty wallet claiming space on the counter.
 
If I were an outsider looking in, I would see so much love and energy in this house. 
 
Thank you for these kids, my God.  I forget to say it too often.  Thank you for their love of brother and sister and mom and dad.  Their love spills over and they can not stop it.  They have so little hesitation in opening up their hearts again and again. 
 
Time to rally the school train.

Big Boy

Dear Frank,
 
You are sleeping right now and I thought I would grab this quick moment of silence to write you a letter.  I used to sit down and write much more with your older siblings.  I haven't spent quite as many words on you.
 
But wait---before you get mad, let me say this:  With you, I have spent the time.
 
I have pulled you out of bed to rock for ten more minutes.  I have sung to you and admired you and let you spend a half hour dribbling apple sauce into your mouth bite by dropping bite. 
 
Oh how we have laughed Frankie!   And built towers of cans and hugged and hugged.
 
This week, you began to finish the songs we sing.  You told me this morning that you were going poop.  
 
You are not really a baby anymore.
 
Oh kiddo, I am so lucky to be your mom.  This has been an upside-down roller coaster, and the crazy love you have grown in our family is something we couldn't have predicted or deserved.
 
Better wake up, kid.  There's another adventure on the horizon.
 
I love you.
 
Mom