Kindness of Strangers

When we are constantly turning on the news to hear one awful story after another it is no surprise we teach children not to talk to strangers. Better safe then sorry, right?! However, I am happy to report there are still people out there willing to take time out of their life to come to the aid of a complete stranger.

Leaving a workshop today, on my way to pick up Addie I hit dead stopped traffic. After sitting for a little while I started to get worried that I would never make it to get her on time. I made a decision (a bad one in hindsight), but several other cars had successfully made the U-turn through the grass so off I went. Another hindsight moment, I should have taken the dip with some speed but since I proceeded so slowly I had zero momentum to make it up the incline and got stuck in some unseen mud.

To the first gentleman that pulled off the road, a special thank you to you for taking it upon yourself to help me and for staying with me until the end. To the second gentleman that stopped, thank you for putting me above keeping your nice work clothes clean. Finally thank you to the pair of gentlemen for not simply thinking "someone else is already helping to take care of it". Without all of you I would not have made it!

I didn't catch any one's name or even properly thank them because as I started to slow down they yelled "go, go, keep going!"... to avoid getting stuck again. I was only able to wave and shout THANK YOU out my window as I kicked up mud and drove off. While I know true kindness seeks no return I hated leaving my angels in disguise and blankets & reusable shopping bags (used for footing) on the side of Billy Graham. I know I will probably never see any of them again but I hope all the people that did drive by saw what I did... the best of human nature.

Would I have gotten out of my car and done the same? Sad to say, as a female traveling alone, I would not have but the act of kindness was not wasted and I am truly grateful. I hope I can make someone's day like you did for me. Thank you again!!!

Little Mama

While I was getting ready for work this morning, Addie came in to inform me that "Elmo hit mommy" and was going to time out. (I wonder if Elmo protests as much as his mommy does about sitting in her timeout chair?) Then before leaving the house. Elmo needed his diaper changed... this is what I found a few minutes later:

Then the game must have changed to "pull out everything that is in the changing table's baskets".

Gosh, she keeps me entertained AND busy cleaning up after her.

Don't Carpe Diem

Parenting truly can be beautiful and brutal and easily both at the same time. Sorry for doing this two days in a row, but I hope you enjoy another article from Momastery...

Every time I'm out with my kids -- this seems to happen:
An older woman stops us, puts her hand over her heart and says something like, "Oh, Enjoy every moment. This time goes by so fast."

Everywhere I go, someone is telling me to seize the moment, raise my awareness, be happy, enjoy every second, etc, etc, etc.

I know that this message is right and good. But, I have finally allowed myself to admit that it just doesn't work for me. It bugs me. This CARPE DIEM message makes me paranoid and panicky. Especially during this phase of my life - while I'm raising young kids. Being told, in a million different ways to CARPE DIEM makes me worry that if I'm not in a constant state of intense gratitude and ecstasy, I'm doing something wrong.

I think parenting young children (and old ones, I've heard) is a little like climbing Mount Everest. Brave, adventurous souls try it because they've heard there's magic in the climb. They try because they believe that finishing, or even attempting the climb are impressive accomplishments. They try because during the climb, if they allow themselves to pause and lift their eyes and minds from the pain and drudgery, the views are breathtaking. They try because even though it hurts and it's hard, there are moments that make it worth the hard. These moments are so intense and unique that many people who reach the top start planning, almost immediately, to climb again. Even though any climber will tell you that most of the climb is treacherous, exhausting, killer. That they literally cried most of the way up.

And so I think that if there were people stationed, say, every thirty feet along Mount Everest yelling to the climbers -- "ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF!? IF NOT, YOU SHOULD BE! ONE DAY YOU'LL BE SORRY YOU DIDN'T!" TRUST US!! IT'LL BE OVER TOO SOON! CARPE DIEM!" -- those well-meaning, nostalgic cheerleaders might be physically thrown from the mountain.

Now. I'm not suggesting that the sweet old ladies who tell me to ENJOY MYSELF be thrown from a mountain. These are wonderful ladies. Monkees, probably. But last week, a woman approached me in the Target line and said the following: "Sugar, I hope you are enjoying this. I loved every single second of parenting my two girls. Every single moment. These days go by so fast."

At that particular moment, Amma had arranged one of the new bras I was buying on top of her sweater and was sucking a lollipop that she must have found on the ground. She also had three shop-lifted clip-on neon feathers stuck in her hair. She looked exactly like a contestant from Toddlers and Tiaras. I couldn't find Chase anywhere, and Tish was grabbing the pen on the credit card swiper thing WHILE the woman in front of me was trying to use it. And so I just looked at the woman, smiled and said, "Thank you. Yes. Me too. I am enjoying every single moment. Especially this one. Yes. Thank you."

That's not exactly what I wanted to say, though.

There was a famous writer who, when asked if he loved writing, replied, "No. but I love having written." What I wanted to say to this sweet woman was, "Are you sure? Are you sure you don't mean you love having parented?"

I love having written. And I love having parented. My favorite part of each day is when the kids are put to sleep (to bed) and Craig and I sink into the couch to watch some quality TV, like Celebrity Wife Swap, and congratulate each other on a job well done. Or a job done, at least.
Every time I write a post like this, I get emails suggesting that I'm being negative. I have received this particular message four or five times -- G, if you can't handle the three you have, why do you want a fourth?

That one always stings, and I don't think it's quite fair. Parenting is hard. Just like lots of important jobs are hard. Why is it that the second a mother admits that it's hard, people feel the need to suggest that maybe she's not doing it right? Or that she certainly shouldn't add more to her load. Maybe the fact that it's so hard means she IS doing it right...in her own way...and she happens to be honest.
Craig is a software salesman. It's a hard job in this economy. And he comes home each day and talks a little bit about how hard it is. And I don't ever feel the need to suggest that he's not doing it right, or that he's negative for noticing that it's hard, or that maybe he shouldn't even consider taking on more responsibility. And I doubt anybody comes by his office to make sure he's ENJOYING HIMSELF. I doubt his boss peeks in his office and says: "This career stuff...it goes by so fast...ARE YOU ENJOYING EVERY MOMENT IN THERE, CRAIG???? CARPE DIEM, CRAIG!"

My point is this. I used to worry that not only was I failing to do a good enough job at parenting, but that I wasn't enjoying it enough. Double failure. I felt guilty because I wasn't in parental ecstasy every hour of every day and I wasn't MAKING THE MOST OF EVERY MOMENT like the mamas in the parenting magazines seemed to be doing. I felt guilty because honestly, I was tired and cranky and ready for the day to be over quite often. And because I knew that one day, I'd wake up and the kids would be gone, and I'd be the old lady in the grocery store with my hand over my heart. Would I be able to say I enjoyed every moment? No.

But the fact remains that I will be that nostalgic lady. I just hope to be one with a clear memory. And here's what I hope to say to the younger mama gritting her teeth in line:
"It's helluva hard, isn't it? You're a good mom, I can tell. And I like your kids, especially that one peeing in the corner. She's my favorite. Carry on, warrior. Six hours till bedtime." And hopefully, every once in a while, I'll add -- "Let me pick up that grocery bill for ya, sister. Go put those kids in the van and pull on up -- I'll have them bring your groceries out."

Anyway. Clearly, Carpe Diem doesn't work for me. I can't even carpe fifteen minutes in a row, so a whole diem is out of the question.

Here's what does work for me:
There are two different types of time. Chronos time is what we live in. It's regular time, it's one minute at a time, it's staring down the clock till bedtime time, it's ten excruciating minutes in the Target line time, it's four screaming minutes in time out time, it's two hours till daddy gets home time. Chronos is the hard, slow passing time we parents often live in.

Then there's Kairos time. Kairos is God's time. It's time outside of time. It's metaphysical time. It's those magical moments in which time stands still. I have a few of those moments each day. And I cherish them.

Like when I actually stop what I'm doing and really look at Tish. I notice how perfectly smooth and brownish her skin is. I notice the perfect curves of her teeny elf mouth and her asianish brown eyes, and I breathe in her soft Tishy smell. In these moments, I see that her mouth is moving but I can't hear her because all I can think is -- This is the first time I've really seen Tish all day, and my God -- she is so beautiful. Kairos.

Like when I'm stuck in chronos time in the grocery line and I'm haggard and annoyed and angry at the slow check-out clerk. And then I look at my cart and I'm transported out of chronos. And suddenly I notice the piles and piles of healthy food I'll feed my children to grow their bodies and minds and I remember that most of the world's mamas would kill for this opportunity. This chance to stand in a grocery line with enough money to pay. And I just stare at my cart. At the abundance. The bounty. Thank you, God. Kairos.

Or when I curl up in my cozy bed with Theo asleep at my feet and Craig asleep by my side and I listen to them both breathing. And for a moment, I think- how did a girl like me get so lucky? To go to bed each night surrounded by this breath, this love, this peace, this warmth? Kairos.

These kairos moments leave as fast as they come- but I mark them. I say the word kairos in my head each time I leave chronos. And at the end of the day, I don't remember exactly what my kairos moments were, but I remember I had them. And that makes the pain of the daily parenting climb worth it.

If I had a couple Kairos moments during the day, I call it a success.

Carpe a couple of Kairoses a day.

Good enough for me.

Momastery

Work/Life Balance is a topic I know every person struggles with, and none more then parents. I just read an article that was finally able to put a name to what I feel everyday - Mommy Guilt. As much as I would like to be, my inability to slow down long enough to focus on only one single thing leaves me far from eloquent and since I just discovered Glennon Melton and her blog, Momastery, (which I love already), thought I would simply re-post said article.

Friendly Fire

I recently heard a vicious radio debate between women who believe that mothers should stay home and others who believe that mothers should work outside the home. All the debaters were mothers themselves.

As I listened wearily while ducking and dodging the ladies' sucker punches like a cornered boxer, I thought... this is really getting old.

I've been both a "working" and a "stay-at-home" mom so I've experienced both sides of the internal and eternal debate moms endure all day, every day. When I worked outside my house, Mommy Guilt rode shotgun with me each morning, chiding me for dropping off my sick boy at day care instead of keeping him home and for rocking him the night before instead of preparing for work. When I got to work each day Mommy Guilt whispered that a good mom would still be at home with her son and when I returned home she'd insist that a better teacher would have stayed at work longer. When I'd visit girlfriends who stayed home, Mommy Guilt would say "See... this lady's doing it right. Her kids are better off than yours are." And Mommy Guilt certainly had a lot to say when Chase's day care provider admitted that he had taken his first steps while I was working. Every night when I finally got Chase to sleep, finished grading papers, and collapsed into the couch, Mommy Guilt would snuggle up next to me and sweetly say "shouldn't you spend some quality time with your husband instead of checking out?" And finally, before I fell asleep each night, Mommy Guilt would whisper in my ear, "YOU KNOW, THE ONLY WAY YOU'RE GOING TO BE A GOOD MOTHER AND WIFE IS IF YOU QUIT YOUR JOB AND STAY HOME."

And so now I'm a stay-at-home mom. And the thing is that Mommy Guilt stays home with me. These days I experience her less as a drive-by-shooter and more as a constant commentator. Now she sounds like this:

"Did you go to all three of those college classes just so you could clean the kitchen and play Candy Land all day? And how is it that you don't even do those things very well? Can you concentrate on nothing? Look at this mess! A good mom would clean more and play less. Also, a good mom would clean less and play more. Also a good mom would clean more and play more and quit emailing altogether. Additionally, I've been meaning to ask if you're sure you feel comfortable spending so much money when you don't even make any. Moreover, when was the last time you volunteered at Chase's school? What kind of stay at home mom doesn't go to PTA meetings or know how to make lasagna? Furthermore, nobody in this house appreciates you."

My favorite, though, is that when I finally do sit down, concentrate on one of my kids, and read a few books all the way through... instead of saying "Good job!" Mommy Guilt says, "See how happy your daughter is? You're home all day...why don't you do this more often?

And of course, before I go to sleep every night she whispers... "YOU KNOW, MAYBE YOU'D BE A BETTER MOTHER AND WOMAN IF YOU COULD JUST GET OUT OF THE HOUSE AND WORK."

Mommy Guilt is like that scene from "Liar Liar" in which Jim Carrey enters a bathroom, throws himself against the walls, slams his head into the toilet, and rubs soap into his eyes. When a confused observer asks what on Earth he's doing he says, "I WAS KICKIN' MY ASS! DO YA MIND?"

I understand the act of kicking one's own ass. I do it all the time. What I don't understand is why some ladies insist on making everything worse by kicking each other's asses.

To the women who argue vehemently that all "good mothers" stay at home: Are you nuts? If you got your way, who would show my daughters that some women actually change out of yoga pants and into scrubs and police uniforms and power suits each day? How would my girls even know that women who don't feel like carrying diaper bags can carry briefcases or stethoscopes instead...or also? How, pray tell, could I tell them with a straight face that they can grow up to be whatever they want to be?

And to the women who argue that all stay home mothers damage women's liberation: Are you nuts? Aren't you causing some damage by suggesting that we all must fit into a category, that women are a cause instead of individuals? And doesn't choosing to spend your limited time and energy attacking "us" set "us" back? But for argument's sake, what if you got your way and every mother was required to work outside of the home? What would that mean to ME? Who would volunteer to lead my son's reading group at school, host his class party, plan his Sunday school lesson or wait with him in the parking lot when I forget to pick him up? Who would watch my daughter while the baby gets her shots? Who would knock on my door and tell me that my keys are still in the front door, the doors to my van are open, and my purse is in the driveway?

And if every woman made the same decision, how would my children learn that sometimes motherhood looks like going to work to put food on the table or stay sane or share your gifts or because you want to work and you've earned that right. And that other times motherhood looks like staying home for all of the exact same reasons.

As far as I can tell, no matter what decision a woman makes, she's offering an invaluable gift to my daughters and me. So I'd like to thank all of you. Because I'm not necessarily trying to raise an executive or a mommy. I'm trying to raise a woman. And there are as many different right ways to be a woman as there are women

So, angry, debating ladies... here's the thing. My daughter is watching me AND you to learn what it means to be a woman. And I'd like her to learn that a woman's value is determined less by her career choices and more by how she treats other women, in particular, women who are different than she is. I'd like her to learn that her strength is defined by her honesty and her ability to exist in grey areas without succumbing to masking her insecurities with generalizations or accusations. And I'd like her to learn that the only way to be both graceful and powerful is to dance among the endless definitions of the word woman... and to refuse to organize women into categories, to view ideas in black and white, or to choose sides and come out swinging. Because being a woman is not that easy, and it's not that hard.

And speaking of "Liar Liar" - angry debating ladies . . . when you yell about how much peace you have with your decisions, it just doesn't ring true. The thing is, if you're yelling, I don't believe that you've got it all figured out. I don't even believe that YOU believe you've got it all figured out. I think your problem might be that you're as internally conflicted as the rest of us about your choices. But instead of kicking your own ass, you've decided it'd be easier to kick ours.

Which is tempting, but also wrong.

So, maybe instead of tearing each other up, we could each admit that we're a bit torn up about our choices, or lack thereof. And we could offer each other a shoulder or a hand. And then maybe our girls would see what it really means to be a woman.

Were you able to get through the entire thing without choking up?

New Decor

The Grands came to visit this weekend and had a hand in 3 new pieces of decor in our house. First and foremost, Jim & his dad put together a very important kitchen set, with plenty of help from Addie.

The next day, the boys assembled the Grandfather clock we got passed down from Great-Grandma Marques. It fits well in the nook near our bedroom door, but I immediately requested the "dings" and "dongs" be turned off.

Finally, I managed to be an ounce of the creative person I wish I could be and changed out the ribbon on Addie's bow hanger, (more then doubling the amount of bows it can hold).

Thanks for visiting Grammy & VoVo. What honey-do list can we tackle next time?

Resolutions

I started this post with intentions of the subject being about time - the lack of it in my life, trying to find more of it, promising to always make the most of it and vowing to put more time into this blog but I am not one for resolutions since they only seem to be a set up for failure. I am not trying to squash anyone's new year's resolution because any accomplishment starts with the decision to try. I try to live a healthy life so I support the masses of people who say they will lose weight at the beginning of each year even though the avid gym-going in me is highly irritated by the influx of bodies. (By the way, its about lifestyle change people! I know!)

So instead of a resolution I am going to re-attempt to tackle one of my personal Bucket List items this year. So as long as another injury doesn't do me in, I plan to complete a full marathon. Training officially kicks off this weekend and will be signing up for Cincinnati's Flying Pig Marathon before the end of the month. (Ahhh, it is out there now!)

KinderDance

Dropped Addie off at her first ballet class today, yes DROPPED HER OFF! She was nervous but luckily much more excited and intrigued so she held in any protests as I explained I would not be joining the class. Her class is just 5 little girls and the teacher which is perfect. Addie is officially the youngest by almost a year but you wouldn't have know it which makes me both proud and sad because she is such a big girl now. The ever-cautious child did take the first 10 minutes of class to quietly take it all in before engaging. The teacher even told me she saw the light bulb clicked and her whole face light up. {Feel good moment} What a great start to our dance adventure!

I knew she would enjoy it but she really loved it. Good thing the next class wasn't for half an hour because the girls did not want to leave once class was over. She called one of her new friends over and they ran back to the barre to show us their jumps. I fully expect her to run from the main building all the way to the dance center every Tuesday cheering "me ballet"... and I can't wait!

What a fun pick-me-up after her last few days.
Notice she is still wrapped from where they drew blood that morning. My little trooper!

Playdates

I am not sure we have packed so much fun into one day before, and none of it was really planned in advance! You wouldn't know it is winter around here and we made the most of the amazing, verging on hot day. Teva and I enjoyed a run along the Greenway making it home just in time for pancake breakfast. Nice start to the day if I do say so myself! Eventually we all make our way into the backyard - Jim gearing up to build a work bench in the new garden area, Addie chasing Teva and me just soaking in the moment, (after picking up "landmines").

Off we went for a make-up date with Norah, home for lunch then over to Samantha's for lots of creative fun. The final date was with Baby Collins (and her parents) that came over for pizza, which Addie doesn't have any interest in eating. What kids doesn't like pizza?

Cruisin' with Norah

Fingerpainting with Samantha

Actually taking turns with the Crazy Coop

It was such a nice day!

Design Assistant

I appreciate the help and understand wanting to put your own stamp on things, buuuut...