brand new day

I am a procrastinator... not always, but if I'm dreading something, it waits until the absolute last minute.  The weather has been changing and there is no avoiding it, the kids need summer clothes.  I hate changing over the closets.  I'm sure I make it much more difficult than it needs to be, but all the sorting and weeding out, and organizing, and mess, and ughhhhhhhhhhhh...  and it's all multiplied times three - über ugh. But last week, I tackled the beast.  I turned up the music real loud, got my boxes and bags for organizing, and dove in.  I ended up with all these little piles of clothes sorted by size, gender, and destination, and three clean closets and dressers.  It wasn't nearly as horrid as it sounded in my head.  In fact, for someone who tends to lean toward the compulsive side, it was actually kind of fun.  Okay, so I really enjoyed it.             At the end of the day, I was shaking my head at myself, wondering how often I play out this pattern of pro

Something is different.  For the past few weeks, I have had this feeling that something is different, but haven't been able to name it.  Is it the changing of the seasons?  Is it the coming of the end of the school year?  Have we finally found our rhythm in life?  It certainly isn't all the chaos and craziness swirling around us - that's still very much the same and has even picked up a little in the past few months. The other day, I was looking out my window and storm clouds were gathering overhead, gray and ominous.  I was watching those clouds roll in with a determination and inevitability, promising the impending storm.  It was the perfect picture of what life feels like sometimes; there is a storm brewing and there is no running from it.  It will come.  God help me. At the time, that was my prayer - God help me.  I felt small, defeated and weary.  I was down on my knees and earnestly praying, God help me, because I was spent.  There was nothing left to give, and

The fair was in town this weekend and my kids couldn't wait to go.  They love every bit of the fair experience - the fast rides, hot sun, cheap prizes and greasy food.  What's not to love?  My son Henry was finally tall enough to go on all the rides this year, but not quite brave enough to go by himself which left, me, Wonder Mom, to ride the rides with him. We were standing in line for the Thunderbolt (which used to be the Matterhorn or the Himalayas in days gone by for you old school fair junkies!) and I couldn't help but notice that we were surrounded by throngs of preteens and adolescents.  I started to feel really self-conscious and old and a little bit ridiculous.  But, my son wanted me to ride with him - so that's what we mothers do, right?  And then it hit me - my son wants me to ride with him.  My son wants me to ride with him.  My son wants me  to ride with him.  My son wants me to ride with him.   My son wants me to ride with him!   Any way you spin it, it&

The other day, the kids were having a no-good-terrible-horrible-day, of the Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day variety.  Their shoulders were hunched with the weight of their worries and Henry and Grace were crying tears filled with confusion and there was no salvaging the day; no making it better.  Sometimes you just need a redo.  So we quickly finished our disaster of a dinner and filled some sandwich bags with rocks from our backyard.  We drove down to the lake and threw our rocks and our worries into the water. I don't know if it helped the kids, but it felt better than letting the sadness get us down.  Actually, it felt really good to stand up to the sadness.  It felt strong to stand with my kids and throw a little bit back at life.  Even though the wind was blowing, we were freezing, and the kids' cheeks were stained with tears - we still did it.  Maybe it didn't change a single thing about any of the chaos swirling around us, but it was f

Mother's Day was a little different for me this year, and I was kind of dreading it.  There's so much hype about pampering mothers on Mother's Day and I knew it wasn't going to be a day of pampering.  I worked the night before and was only going to get about 3 hours of sleep, and then I would be "mom" for the rest of the day. But I discovered that the pampering isn't what makes Mother's Day so special.  This year the magic of Mother's Day was in the realization of what a blessing it is to be mom to my kids.  Being a mother is hard, it's the most selfless thing I've ever done - and not always with a smile on my face and sunshine in my heart.  Sometimes it's exhausting.  Sometimes it's frustrating.  Sometimes it's overwhelming.  But all of that sacrifice is such a small part of being a mom even though it seems to take up so much of my time.  And honestly, these days, it's been so prominent in my focus and I have often felt s

I was sitting at the dinner table with my kids tonight and I literally felt my heart swell.  I love my kids.  I've been in a funk these past few weeks.  There's a lot going on which really just amounts to a lot of distraction.  But the past few days have been better.  Not that any circumstances have changed, the storm is still brewing - but there has been a subtle shift that has helped realign some of my world. And tonight, part of that shift allowed me to sit with the kids and really enjoy them.  Enjoy their goofy kid humor and antics.  Enjoy Henry still making a mess at eight years old with spaghetti, his favorite meal.  Enjoy the lightness of their laughter.  Enjoy Lauren's fruitarian appetite, she would live off of mangoes and strawberries if we let her.  Enjoy their ease and carefree ways.  Enjoy Grace dancing in her chair to the music while she eats.   Enjoy hearing about their days at school.  Enjoy Lauren's open-palm hair swipe to keep her crazy hair out of he

We moved back to the community where I grew up two years ago on a whim, or so I thought.  We needed to find a place to live within two weeks, and my home town was the first place that came to mind.  At the time, we decided to move here because of the school system, safety, and proximity to my parents.  But I wonder if there was something deeper in my soul that was just crying to come home. The other day I went for a walk and my mom's house was in the middle of my route so I dropped in for a pit stop.  She was in the kitchen putting tulips from her garden in a vase and my dad was out at the grocery store, one of his favorite pastimes (seriously, he loves grocery shopping).   And the house was freezing as it always is, and my mom had one of her favorite songs on forever repeat playing in the kitchen.  She was waiting on my dad who was sure to return with at least four bagfuls of groceries even though my mom probably only asked him to get three things.  There was something so ordina