Raising Kids...

As parents, we are given children and sometimes a small skill set to prepare us, and then we are left to our own devices.  We hope and pray at the end of the day that we make the right decisions for them, that we grow them to be people who are capable of making the right decisions for themselves and that they turn out to be good, honest, loving people.  But how do we know we're making the right choices?  How do we know that we have the right answers, or if there even is an answer?  How do we take these little, formidable people and mold them into something strong and capable and honorable?  And how do we know, along the way, that we haven't made some major mistake that will impact them for the rest of their lives?

I want for my kids to grow up and share stories of their wonderful childhood, of the fun they had, the things they did and what they learned.  I want them to be proud of us as parents and to want to be parents like us.  And how do you get past this overwhelming feeling that you've failed them?  That you could have done something different, something better, something more?

I'm trying to believe that I have been the best parent I could be, and to learn from my mistakes and shortcomings and to be better, to grow and to provide more for them in every capacity.  I'm trying to rely on my faith that the Lord wouldn't have given me these children if I wasn't able to parent them successfully.  I'm trying to see things through their eyes, to teach them in ways they can learn.  I'm trying to dedicate time and effort to their success in a different and more meaningful way.

That's all we can do, right?  To learn with them and change when we see our current method isn't working.  To pray that God is doing bigger and better work in their lives than we can ever imagine.  To trust in His plan and know it is better and greater than ours.  So, with a new perspective, I am challenging myself to be more for them.

What Valentine's Means To Me...

"Sometimes, in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives you a fairytale."

I have mixed feelings about Valentine's Day.  Sure, it's nice to take a day out of the year to celebrate your love for someone (whether it be a significant other, a child, a family member, a friend or even a stranger who is simply less fortunate), but isn't love about celebrating each other and the special connection you have every. single. day?

I was recently let down when my husband confessed he wasn't doing anything for me for Valentine's Day.  Am I not a good enough wife that I deserve just one day of being counted as special?!?!  But, over the past couple days, I've thought more about his lack of action and I've come to some pretty insightful revelations - I don't want a husband who makes me feel special one day a year - I want a husband who makes me feel special every day of our lives.  And, you know what?  I'm pretty fortunate to have that.  The man I have been blessed with gets up every morning and goes to work to make a living.  He works hard and sometimes he's at work for 10+ hours, but he does this for our family, and so that I have the privilege and opportunity to stay at home with our children.  He makes sure we have a nice home, that our kids can go to a private school and that there's always good food on the table.  He does this every day, without complaining or without asking much in return.

Recently, I was challenged to ask him three things that irritate him - the only one he could think of was that sometimes I don't kiss him goodnight and tell him I love him before going to bed.  Anyone who knows me, knows I have A LOT of irritating qualities, but that was the only thing he could think of.  And I am beyond blessed to have a husband who looks beyond my faults every single day.  And since then, I have made a point to make sure I am never too tired to kiss him goodnight and tell him I love him.

I have a husband who is selling his snowmobile because he wants to devote his finances and time to something more family friendly - he wants to spend time with me and our children, even if it means giving up something that he's wanted for so long and enjoys so much.  He makes these sacrifices every single day.

So, today I am thankful for having such an amazing husband.  One who loves me, regardless of my faults.  One who values our relationship and our family.  One who works hard to provide a comfortable life for us.  And no, he didn't get me anything today - but he gives me his all every single day.  And so maybe it's not about having flowers delivered, or chocolates to eat.  Maybe it's not about jewelry or cards or material things.  Maybe it's about having someone who makes every day a special occasion in their own little way and by doing things that are often overlooked or taken for granted.  And you know what?  I'm glad I have someone like him.

I love you, Puffin - I have loved you every day for seven years, four months, three weeks and four days.  I will love you every single day until my time on Earth is through.  Thank you for being you and for loving me.

Birthday Parties...

I love to celebrate the birth of my children.  Maybe it stems from not having large parties to celebrate my birth as a child, or maybe it just comes from my love of hosting gatherings, party planning and seeing everything come together at the last minute.  But, I can't help but think every year, people open their mailboxes in mid-February and groan at the thought of having to attend yet another party - one with a theme, and a cute poem on the invitation, lots of small children and messy cake.  Now that I have two children for whom to have parties, I thought I needed to make a change.  I can't honestly expect everyone to trek to my house bearing unnecessary gifts (because believe me, my kids don't need anything else) twice a year.  Conveniently enough, exactly six months apart.  It gets time consuming and expensive.  So, I decided to use a method that my friend Tiffany (www.theirbunmyoven.blogspot.com) executes for her family, with a few of my own modifications...

She has four daughters and they each get a birthday party on their even-yeared birthdays.  I've decided to go ahead and allow the boys to have a school party every year - their classmates change and it's rare that they get to see them outside of school.  But, we're limiting family/personal friends celebrations to odd-yeared birthdays.  Of course, we'll have the grandparents to celebrate with dinner on their actual day of birth, but this two-parties-in-one-day-so-my-house-doesn't-fall-to-the-basement-from-the-weight-of-bouncing-kids thing is not happening this year.  You see, in the past, we've hosted his school party in the AM, allowed just enough time to clean up before we hosted his family party in the evening.  It's hard work and last year, being in the first trimester of pregnancy, I didn't know if I'd be able to wake from my post-pre-party nap to entertain the second round of guests.  By the time everyone leaves, I'm dead on my feet.  So, I'm treating myself this year - I'm letting the kind folks at Don Carter Lanes do all the work.  I'm simply ordering a cake and showing up.  I may really go all-out and add a few personal touches to their goody bags, but that's about it.  And I look forward to actually having time to brush my teeth the day of the party and coming home to a clean house with nothing to do but relax with my family after a meager two and a half hour event.

So, in 2011, friends and family - all we'll be doing is having a party for Hunter when he turns one (and that doesn't have to come...he can stay my sweet little baby FOREVER!)  But, if you're lucky enough to have a child in Cole's class - you might wanna be watching your mailboxes in the next week or so - we're going BOWLING!  =D

Cheers to Greg!

So, you know how sometimes, in your young and wild years, you have those nights which you'd so much rather forget, but everyone else remembers so very well?  Yes, those nights that seem to come up at any given opportunity and with each new telling, details emerge that hadn't the thousands of times before?  This very description matches the night of my bachelorette party.  This weekend marks over a year since I returned to the scene - a local bar in the Springfield area.  I figured I'd given it enough time that anyone who was present on that night would have found employment elsewhere.  So, imagine my surprise when the first bartender I see says, "Oh, I remember you!  You had your bachelorette party here!"  Crap.  (Mental note: add "not easily recognized" to the "reasons to lose weight" list.)  "Yeah, I was hoping no one remembered..."  I laughed it off.  Throughout the night, several other "remember when's" were shared (and no, I didn't remember...), but the highlight of the craziest night of my life (that has been likened to The Hangover) was when one fearless man, who is still brave enough to show his face around town, took me and my fellow ladies to Steak 'N Shake at 4 in the morning.  No one would have taken us ANYWHERE, and he escorted us to a public restaurant.  My aunt proceeded to seat customers (even though she was not, nor has ever been employed there), I requested, "lots and lots of fries", we harassed every patron who entered and I don't think any of us managed to sit upright the entire duration of the meal.  There were several other events that took place inside the four walls of the Springfield Steak 'N Shake, but those are the ones we don't speak of (and I figure, if I don't truly remember them, they never really happened!)

The point in sharing all of this is to honor that special person, the perpetual designated driver, the gentleman who is up for anything and never judges.  He suggested I share the trip and I found a way to do so, without reliving the shame I felt the following morning and I figured I owed him that much.  After all, he made the favorite part of my party happen!  So, this one's for you Greg Walter!  Thanks a million!!

So, I thought I was "put together"...

I like to think that I exude this aura of "put together mom".  I know, I completely don't, but I like to pretend.  It is obvious that I don't have it together at all by the fact that I take my son to school in pajamas and slippers (don't worry, I don't get out of the car...and imagine the extreme humiliation that overcame me when I was once called, right outside the parking lot, because he was faking sick and they wanted me to come get him.  In that moment, I panicked.  Not because my child was potentially sick, but because I was in no position to go retrieve him.  I was torn between returning immediately and pretending I was further away than I was, in an effort to buy enough time to go home and make myself moderately presentable.  Fortunately, he was just faking and we were able to come to an understanding with threats that if he was sick and I came back, he would spend the day in bed!)  This is also evident by the fact that my child wore the same sleeper through the day yesterday that he had worn the night before - and slept in it AGAIN.  But, perhaps the most obvious sign of them all is that our Friday drives to school are filled with learning the memory verse that he's had all week to learn and I've neglected to teach him.  Especially today, when I knew he wouldn't be guarded by the other children in his "group" as he recited them.

But, in those moments when everything is falling apart and I try with the might of a warrior to make it appear otherwise, I realize that I don't have to have it all put together.  My children love me the most when we just "go with it".  Cole gets the biggest laughs when disaster strikes and he sees me paddling like a duck.  Hunter doesn't care if laundry is done, the house is clean or dinner is made, as long as his snuggle time isn't compromised.  And my husband, who knows my faults and loves me in spite of them, knows that my intentions are always in the right place and my heart is always trying its hardest.  So, no, I may not have it all together.  Sometimes my dishes aren't done, my kid has to wear pants twice before they get washed, my other child wears the same outfit repeatedly and my husband can't find his belt, but that's okay - they love my flaws and they love me.  And at the end of the day, that's all I need, because we might not have it all together, but together we have it all.

Mount O-Laundrous

I think, in the back corners of the deepest, darkest closet of my home, there is a family of elves.  This family stirs at night, running rampant through our house, dirtying laundry and throwing it in a pile.  There is no way a family of four can accumulate the amount of laundry that we do.  And just when I think I might be making a small amount of head way, an almost-six-year-old (that shall remain nameless to protect the guilty) comes trudging down the stairs with another heaping basket and says, "I don't have any uniform pants clean."  How is that even possible?!?!  I dig through the dryer and find a solemn pair of navy blue pants.  SCORE!

Right now, I will admit, with my head hung in shame, that we have two baskets in front of the washer and four more baskets in our bedroom full of dirty clothes.  Somehow, we still manage to have closets full of clean clothes, which leads me to my favorite excuse, "If all these clothes were clean, I would have nowhere to put them."  I've always admired, and wanted to be, one of those moms that can keep up with laundry by doing a daily load of the clothing her family wore yesterday.  A friend of mine has a husband who does his own laundry, and I am seething with envy of her.  I have hired my mom to do my laundry in the past, which has been projected as a one day project and ended up spanning a week (or more).  My mother-in-law does a load every time she comes over and still, we cannot ever manage to keep up.  I have every intention, every day, of dedicating it fully to laundry.  Today, my DVR is full and I'm thinking, "This is the day, I can fold and watch TV, then move to the next load."  But, alas, I am now drying the same load that I've dried three times before.  There is basket of now wrinkled clean clothes sitting in the dining area and here I am, writing about what I should be doing.

So, assure me, friends and readers, that I am not the only one who will one day come up missing, only to be found amidst piles of once worn clothing.  Assure me that one day, I will conquer this battle and be victorious once and for all.  Tell me that snuggling my baby is far more important than laundering and folding denim and cotton articles.  But most importantly, tell me there is nothing you'd rather do than to come over for coffee and to clean my laundry.

Half a century...

Am I where I thought I'd be at 25?  Probably not, but I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

A lot can happen in a day, week, month and year.  But in 25 - that's a lot of memories, experiences, heart aches and laughs.  I like to think I've learned a few things along the way, and that I still have lots left to learn, and a lot of years left to learn it.  Today, I'll share some of my most valuable lessons learned:

1. The best things in life are worth waiting for.  Regardless of how you feel in the moment, once you get what it is you've been waiting for, you'll find that the timing was perfect and because of all you've endured, you appreciate it that much more.

2. You will lose people you love.  It might be a boyfriend, a parent, a friend, etc., but you will lose people.  You'll lose people to death, to change and to life.  You have to hold tight to the memories you have with those people, remember the good times and move on.

3. Don't buy shoes that don't fit.  You'll regret it after the first time you wear them outside of the store.  Your feet will hate you.  You will hate you.

4. Kiss your children every single day.  Even when you're mad.  They need to know they're loved and you need to know you've showed them that.  Even when your little boy is almost six - still kiss him.  Even if he wipes it off.

5. Value the friendships in your life - they are invaluable.  Friends are the people who are there for you when your whole world is falling apart.  They are the people who know just what to say when there is nothing to say.  And when you find your best friend - marry him.  Even if he leaves his shoes in the doorway.

6. Don't get so drunk you're ashamed to look at the pictures.  Just trust me on this one.

7. Your checking account doesn't like Starbucks nearly as much as you do.  Again, just trust me on this one.

8. Buy expensive purses.  If they make you happy, buy them.  Your children will understand that in your will, you may have no money to leave to them, but they'd much rather have a fabulous Coach handbag.  Unless you have two boys - then just hope their wives like handbags...

9. Say you're sorry.  There's nothing worth staying mad over.  Swallow your pride and say it.

10. Tell your mother every single day how much you love her (and your daddy, too).  Tomorrow isn't promised and even if she's perpetually late, completely disorganized and couldn't be more different than you if she tried, make sure she knows every day how much you love her.  It's not easy being a parent, we say things we don't mean, we make mistakes, we need second chances and sometimes we think we've ruined your entire life because we forgot to feed you breakfast.  But, we love you and we need to know that, despite the fact that you have to wait until lunch to have your first meal of the day and that we try to send you back to school a day early, you love us, too.

Those are some of the things I've learned.  Today, as I turn 25, I have a little boy at kindergarten and a 15 week old napping in my bed.  My husband is working hard to provide our family with everything we need and want.  My dad's watching me from Heaven and my mom's just down the road.  I have a college degree, I have the best friends and family on the face of the earth and I'd say it's a good day.  I'd say I have a pretty great life.  And I'd say that very little of it has to do with me, and more of it has to do with the people who love me and with what the good Lord has blessed me with.  So, happy birthday to me!!