Loads of back-to-school blessings

First things first.  After being pee-trained since April! Bryson started pooping on the potty on a consistent basis.  So after 8 years, 10 months, and weeks....I am finally DONE changing poopy diapers, once and for all (I hope!)!  Also, Uncle Matt can finally babysit all three of my kids at once without Heather, now that the possibility of poo is not in the mix.  Ha.

We saw our first movie in the theatre as a family of five!  Also Bryson and Lily's first movie in the theatre.  It was a great last day of summer!  

Remember how Lily didn't want to hold my hand at the Ice Cream Social?  Ouch.  Well on the first day of school, I took the day off work, and I walked them to their classrooms, and she held my hand most of the way.  She was a little bit weird when I dropped her off at her classroom, because we'd been in Addie's class too long, so I took a snap and bolted.  But after school, she held my hand the whole way to the car, and from the car to stores to look for a new dress and from the car to Red Robin to get root beer and recap the day.  The real blessing here was not that she held my hand, but that I paid attention.  I felt her hand in my heart, I savored it, I was grateful for as much time as she would let me hold.  My heart was so happy.  

In Addie's soccer game last Saturday she scored 5 goals.  She was awesome.  Or should I say Osum? She was also a little cocky confident, I heard that after her third goal she was holding up three fingers back down the field.  

Lawrence and I did the Warrior Dash together.  I was awesome.  I'm only sort of kidding, I really impressed myself.  After planning to sort of dial it in and skip obstacles I didn't want to do, I got going and pushed hard.  We ran the whole race together and I did every obstacle.  One I needed a little boost from Lawrence and one I fell off of.  But I did it, and it was a great time.

Lily set a goal for herself to read 75 books over the summer, she did that and more.  Now she has read up all the box car children books that I got at the library and is ready for number 30-40 to be reserved at the library.  I LOVE the teacher she got this year.

My company had a "summer party" on the second day of school.  That was not the blessing part.  It was at OMSI and while we didn't spend a whole lot of time connecting with work people it was a really fun family night.  Since I work downtown, Lawrence met me there with the kids.  As Lily and I were leaving, I looked across at our city.  It was so beautiful in the setting sun.  I made my girl go stand in front of the skyline to add to the beauty.

Actually I will make that it's own blessing.  I LOVE all the kid's teachers this year.  Teachers are so awesome.

This was our first week with no nanny.  I have had someone in my house, taking care of my kids, at least on a part time basis, since Addie was born.  This week went great.  Lawrence went in early and I was on my own.  I got up early, everyone got up and ready with happy hearts and on time.  I even left that house cleanish.  Did you hear that?  Happy. Hearts. And. On. Time.  Mamas of three know what a miracle this is.

On Monday, we pulled up to Bryson's new 2 day a week childcare provider, let's call her "SuperSitter". She helped us out earlier in the year when our nanny had her surgery.  Bryson announced as we pulled up, "I LOVE SuperSitter's house!!"  I LOVED hearing that.  And I already told you yesterday how well he did at Preschool.  This kid is loving that he isn't getting left at home anymore, he has places to be, things to do! Blessing!

I survived a grueling two day New York Sales Tax Audit this week.  Not a blessing per se, but I work with some great ladies who helped me pull FOUR HUNDRED AND THIRTY additional records from the last 4 years that the auditor requested last minute. It was not pretty, but...It's done!

A few days ago, Addie was excited to tell me that she played football at recess with her best friend C who isn't in her class this year.  The next day I asked her if she played football with the boys again, she said, 'They don't really pass to me, I just run all around and stuff".  Awesome.

In other news, Addie and Bryson both have their first recess this year, it is pretty much the best thing for each of them.  

The week before school started Addie had her oral challenge to test for Peanuts after having 2 negative skin tests and 2 negative blood tests, after 5 years of her allergy getting worse and worse, it is gone!  We had an ice cream party to celebrate, with lots of peanut toppings!

I have been a little off this week, as I mentioned yesterday.  I've been making things work, getting there on time, being proud of the little things, but jeez at the end of the day, I am spent.  Lawrence has been making up the difference.  Yesterday he coached Lily's soccer team of 10 girls alone with Bryson on the side lines (good friends who are parents of the other kids on the team - BLESSING!).  He has just been in a great mood.  I don't love it when one of us is feeling slumpy, but I love the way we work together as a team.  

Having Lawrence on my team, might not be the one I give them most attention to, but it's also my biggest blessing of all.  

The Rawness of Back to School

All the back to school busyness has left me kind of raw.  Very raw actually.  I’ve been thinking about it a lot, trying to figure out why.  Is this year different?  Is it because my baby is in preschool now, and Addie in full day?  Is it because we no longer have our nanny?

There is certainly the fact that my babies are getting bigger.  That’s great.  And hard.  And sad.  And awesome.  And fleeting.  But that alone is not at the heart the rawness that I feel.

Third grade.  Lily is a 3^rd grader.  That’s part of it.  Man, kids were mean to me in third grade.  As an adult, a successful, well-adjusted adult, I have had multiple people come to me as adults to apologize for how they treated me as a kid.  I’ve always brushed it off as ‘kids are mean’, as that is what we said before bullying was a district-wide curriculum word.  But just the other day, I was thinking about this rawness.  And third grade was rough, they were mean.  Mean, mean.  The fact that adult men and women, who have lived 25+ years of life since that time still feel so sick and guilty inside for the way they treated me, the fact that they contact me on Facebook to apologize…well that’s how mean.   So, it’s okay if I have a little bit of scarring when I think about sending my kid off to grade 3. Don’t get me wrong.  I had friends, I didn’t walk around school with my head held low, my mama loved me like nobody’s business, I was the best big sister on the block, I was too smart for my own good…I didn’t let it ruin me.  But when my little girl walks out the door to third grade…it hurts.  The little Jenny inside of me feels afraid for how third grade feels.  The mama in me knows that she is different and wonderful, and the kids she hangs out with are different and wonderful.  But still, I’m scared.  Because kids are still mean.   

The next thing I’m noticing about back-to-school is the constant state of comparison I have going in my own head.  The tireless what if…what if I was that kind of mama?  what if I didn’t have to worry about this or that?  what if my kid didn’t have to ride the bus?  what if I volunteered more?  what if I got to work earlier?  what if we had less toys.  Seriously.  I’m reading blogs about it, validating blogs, articles about how we are all doing okay.  Things we all should read.  Your okay and my okay don’t look the same and that’s okay.  How liberating.  But why do I feel the need to read another mom’s articulation of what’s okay for her to make sure I’m doing alright?   I am an advocate of other moms and of myself.  I never want to be in any discussion that reeks of mom vs mom.  My ways barely work for me, so I certainly won’t push them on anyone else.  I can feel convicted about how I want things to be, regardless of how different my reality looks, I will even work hard for those things, but I won't judge others in order to see the value in myself.  It makes me sad that by the time I get this all figured out, it will be nearly over and re-do just isn’t an option.  My kids will be out there in the world with all the best and worst of how I've treated them and how they treated each other. 

Last week I go to preschool with Bryson and I feel nervous and awkward.  I’m the only working mom in the class, I’m the only one who has a youngest child in the class.  I’m not used to that.  My hands feel weirdly empty, like they should be busier soothing a baby or picking up a puzzle that my toddler spilled.  I’m not in yoga pants because my nanny will be meeting me in the parking lot after this little orientation so I can rush off and be late to work.  I’m not doting on him like a first child, and he doesn’t need me like the other kids in the class seem to need their moms.  He can't get enough of his new teacher.  Want's every minute of her time.  This feels awkward, like I’ve never felt before, and I leave feeling like I won't fit in with all the wonderfully nice moms I've just met, and that makes me sad.  But then 5 days later it is time to drop him off for his first real day of preschool.  The first day when the mamas leave.  What was awkward a few days ago, feels good now.  Some of these three-year-olds have never been left before.  They are crying out in pain and anguish.  Their mamas are crying too.  The pain in the family is palpable, and in one case, seeing it brings tears to my eyes, I’m hurting for how much they are hurting.  Bryson goes in happily, confidently, and there is not a doubt in my mind that he won’t.  He is all joy.  He has been waiting for this day as long as he can remember.  He got toted here in a car seat, lost here in the halls as a toddler, and waited for his sisters many times at the end of the hall in the parent area.  Now it is his turn to go into his classroom, and his heart could not be more full.  I look at him and I feel proud.  I look at the crying kids and I feel bad that my boy happily waves “ga-bye mama” after a quick hug.  I know I shouldn’t.  I’m happy because my boy is not sad.  Am I a better mama because my kid didn’t cry at preschool drop off?  No, of course not…

But I’m reminded for the millionth time in this parenting journey that there are more ways than one to do this well.  I'm getting validation from my child's happy face.  The one of three faces where I should be looking for it.  

So raw isn’t a sad word or a happy word.  It’s that my heart feels more on the outside that usual.  Which is, you know, saying a lot coming from me.  I’m noticing my failures and my successes a little more often.  I’m loving what I am, but mourning what I am not.  I can taste the tears and laughter of my own childhood.  And during this time I take a few vacation days to savor the time with them.  Then I work hard and efficiently to make the most of my time at the office.  Then I wake up early and stumble to the coffee pot to remember I am God’s child and spend time being still.  To feel that God is love.  And I am loved.  

And this raw life is beautiful and good, and it’s mine and I’m proud of it.  My kids will have their own kid hurts that make them raw, but it probably won’t be the third grade, or going to preschool for the first time.  It will be things that I can’t and do not want to anticipate.  There are beautiful blessings everywhere.  Tomorrow I will be careful to notice them.  

Be where you are, because where you are is pretty great!

But I want that hand

Something happened to today.  

I left work a little early to go meet Lily's new teacher at the big drop off your school supplies and ice cream social extravaganza.  

As we got out of the car, I had Addie's hand, and I reached for Lily's and...

She. Pulled. Away.  

Dagger to my heart, I was a little stunned but I understood...and I kept walking.  

I know other kids don't want their mom to hold their hand.  I know I didn't as a third grader.  But this is my little girl and of course she will never be like that.  

Later it happened again walking to the playground.  I didn't want to hold her hand for safety.  It's just, what we do, when we walk together.  I reached more out of absent-mindedness than anything else, but she didn't want to.  I told her sorry, for trying a second time.  (No means no, mom!)  She just looked at me with the tight lipped stare-me-down look she gets when I'm embarrassing her.  I asked her if she would still let me kiss her goodbye, and she said yes.  I asked her if she ever wanted to hold my hand.  

She said yes.  

Just not at school. 

 

A great summer 2013 - Adventure # 1 - Tour de Arizona and the Grand Canyon with the Shaws

A few days after school ended we headed to Arizona to see our friends the Shaw Family.

Getting to Arizona was a little crazy, as we flew in 2 groups to save money, Addie and Lawrence flew standby.  It was a stressful 8 hrs but when all was said and done, we all arrived within a half hour of each other.  We swam in the pool for a while and then headed over to our friends, Ben and Michelle's house for dinner.  It so happened that some Portland friends were in Phoenix also, so all of us ate well, drank, talked, laughed.  Twas a great first night of vacation.

Father's Day was awesome, we loaded up 8 friends in the Honda Pilot, first stop was a creek on the way to Sedona.  We played in the water, fished for crawfish with bacon, and swung on a rope swing into the river.  What an experience it was for us to play in the water and be refreshed but never cold.  That night we headed to Sedona where Meg's dad lives.  As we rounded the corner and saw the mountains surrounding Sedona, it took our breath away.  And Meg's dad's house was right at the bottom.  Amazing. We had fun, BBQed, laughed and laughed and laughed, and all slept on air mattresses slumber party style.  It was a fantastic day.  (Inside joke, it turns out that the plumbing in Sedona and Joseph are very similar)

The next morning after a yummy breakfast at the world famous Coffee Pot, we were off to the Grand Canyon.

It was beyond our expectations!  Truly!  As we came up to it, walking along the path, my breath caught in my throat and I felt tears in my eyes.  It was bigger and more awesome than I expected and I was simply in awe.

We hiked around, the kids were not as impressed as we expected.  People told us this might happen, but we were all, no not our kids, they are very in to science and they are sure to love it.  They knew all about it, we'd checked out every book in the library.  But they were looking for something more like the mountain in Sedona.  The vastness made it hard for them to see or imagine.  We took exactly one million pictures.  The ones we've seen hundreds of times.  The ones that do not do it justice.  On the way out, the photo hating dads looped around out of the way,  stopped, and unbuckled kids out of the third row just so I could get the picture I said I wanted earlier in the day of my family with the Grand Canyon National Park sign.  People, these are the little big things that make me feel loved.  I had already given up and wasn't planning to ask once we got the car loaded with children.

We drove back through Flagstaff and stopped their for dinner.  OZ talked his way out of speeding ticket by accidentally passing on his military ID along with his driver's license.  All five kids were sleeping.  All five kids woke up.  But no ticket, so we considered it a win, and it was almost time for dinner anyway.

We passed route 66 and Lawrence made Addie think we were in Radiator Springs.  She pointed out Flo's, and Meg convinced them all to climb up on a sign.  It was a high point for Addie for sure, so we were glad to have stopped.

The next day the boys went Golfing.  Meg and I played with the kids in the pool and relaxed.  We must have done other stuff, but I can't remember what two months later.  We did marvel at how glad we were that we did all of our traveling at the beginning of the week.  How great 4 kids did in the packed to the brim car, and how much our families loved each other.  That night we jumped in the pool after golf and went to dinner at Oregano's.  We walked home, and Ben showed Lily dates and other plants along the way.  The kids were enamored.  We loved walking in the dark and in the heat, full and tipsy. I honestly felt a little high on life, but the yummy frozen drinks at dinner didn't hurt I'm sure.

The following two days, OZ had to work.  We went to the Hamilton Aquatic Center both days.  The kids loved it and it was like $11 for our whole family to get in.  There was something for everyone, easy enough for Taylor Poppy and big water slides for Lily (and me!).

Thursday Meg made us a big Salmon dinner and we enjoyed a relaxing evening at home, playing Catan.

Friday we walked to Tempe town lake and Bryson got in a fight with a Cactus.  The kids had matching outfits so it made for some adorable group photos.  We had a great dinner out in downtown Tempe and a nice stroll.  Another evening of warmth and walking.  The night ended with an evening swim which was on Lily's must do list

Saturday was going home day.  Boo.  We decided to go for an early morning hike up A mountain.  We came home and jumped in the pool and headed to the airport.  Lawrence and Addie were hoping for similar luck, getting bumped from their flight.  But no luck, all was easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Honorable mentions: Playing Trains, Cheating at Catan, Being spotted by Mike's elk scope, My kids discovered their love for Gatorade,

Happy Mother's Day to my beautifully merciful mother!!

 Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

So, it's the day before Mother's Day and I haven't sent my mom a card or a gift.  As the guilt washes over me, I resist the urge to feel terrible, because of the grace and love she will offer me.  Why should such an amazing mother receive nothing on Mother's Day though?  I hope Matt sent something on time.  Ha.  Ha.  Hahahahhahahahahaha.

I have a card in my purse, and an idea in my brain, and I worry that my mama will be sad and lonely on the day when she should feel most loved and cherished.  I am writing this, not only because I love to write about brag & about the woman who raised me all by herself, but also because I hope that my words will touch her like a gift.  In place of the one I've not yet sent.

I've written things about her before: here and here, and a bunch more here. I didn't re-read those posts before starting this one, so I might be saying something I've said before, but if there is one thing I know as a mom, woman, wife, and friend...hearing the things that we've done right in our life, the things that made a difference for others, the places we matter to those we love...hearing that a few extra times, does not get old.

I'll start by saying that I cannot imagine who I'd be without my mom.  I also can't imagine a life without her in it someday.  Some of my favorite people have lost their mothers, some of them lost their mothers a long time ago, some in more recent years...some of them have children who will never knew their mother this side of Heaven.  While I appreciate my mama without the perspective of those unimaginable losses, I am reminded of all the blessings I have, just because she is still in my life, just because she loves me more than any other human on this earth.

That perspective prodded me to invite her along on a work trip last September.  It reminded me that those friends would give anything to make new memories with their mamas, and I needed to get on that while I still could.  My mom and I see each other 4-5 times a year, we make a lot of new grandma memories, and that's very important, but we don't make a lot of mother/daughter memories.  I'm racing and running, she's spoiling the kids, and we leave them with her to get a date night in while our cheerful free babysitter shoes us out the door.  

So I took her with me to Vegas.  I enjoyed her company.  I marveled at the way she fumbled through security, acted worldly with the cabbie, and took pictures of me checking in at the hotel.  I wasn't rushed or overwhelmed, and that made it really easy to enjoy my mom, just as she is.  And let me be clear, because I'd hate for my actions to speak louder than my words in many moments.  I. DO. LOVE. HOW. SHE. IS. AS. SHE. IS.  Even if I'm terrible at showing it most of the time.  I'm so lucky for how she is.  I'm so happy for how she is.  That was such an amazing trip for us.  We ate, we saw, we talked, we read, we ate, we played, we walked, we laughed, we almost missed our return flight, we enjoyed.  I'm ashamed to say that I don't remember the last time I simply enjoyed us that much.  I loved getting to be with her, as her daughter - leaving many of the other life responsibilities for a few days.  When we returned home, she had college friends in town for a mini reunion.  So I got to meet old college boyfriends and their wives, her old friends and new friends, all people who love her so much.  It was an amazing time for me to spend time with these people, people who loved my mom as she was before there was me, before she was a mother.

A month or so ago, I was working through a bible study, and I came to the topic of mercy.  There was a question asking if there was anyone in your life who always offers mercy.  Mercy isn't a word that I could define exactly, so I looked it up.  

mer·cy  

/ˈmərsē/

Noun Compassion or forgiveness shown toward someone whom it is within one's power to punish or harm An event to be grateful for, esp. because its occurrence prevents something unpleasant or provides relief from suffering

As I read more about the meaning of mercy, my mom was the only person who came to my mind.  I took the question a bit further and tried to think of a time when she did not extend mercy to me, and I could not.  And believe me, I deserved punishment, I was no picnic, yet she didn't/doesn't give me what I deserve.  Does that mean I was raised by the most merciful woman in the world?  I think so.  

A while back a loved one and I were talking about wishing we had more time to connect.  I told her that while she felt like we weren't connecting enough, I was connecting with her more than I do with many...and I said that I don't connect with my mom as much as I should.  She asked me if that was right.  The truth is it isn't right.  But it is how it is.  The reason is because my mom is so forgiving and gentle with me.  She understands that my busy is never something personal against her.  She acknowledges the stresses in my life, and that I get frazzled to a fault.  When I don't call her for weeks at a time, and we are in touch through liking photos and comments, she is glad to have a window into my world.  If I have a list of 3 people I must call, she drops to the bottom of the list, not because I want to talk to her the least (quite the opposite) it is because she will be the most understanding, never once have I had to worry about her wrath.  It's not fair to her that it works that way, but it does.  And she loves me anyway.  Fully.  She doesn't hold it against me, she doesn't remind me that the last time I messed up and apologized, and here I am messing up again.  She forgives in a way that means I'm fully forgiven, the slate is wiped clean, again and again.  Because of that, I probably screw up with her the most, she is my safe place for screwing up.  It brings me to tears when I try to put into words how much it means to have that safe place with her.  

As I mother my own children, I want to better remember my mother's mercy, and what that brings to me, even as a 36 year old woman.  On a regular basis, I hear myself reminding them of their past faults and their past shortcomings.  I am frustrated with them, not because the disobedience at hand is the problem, but because it has been a problem in the past.  Because if I am really honest about it, I have not forgiven them for something that I say I have.  This bible study that had my mama written all over it, talking about mercy, it was about Jesus (Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.  Matt 5:7).  Even though she isn't a believer, my mom is and always has been that example to me, she loves me like Jesus does, she loves everyone like that.  A while ago, I was thanking God for teaching me about His love for me through the way I love my children.  And now, even more I am thanking Him for teaching me about His love for me through the way my mom loves me.  

I'm always setting goals and working on stuff.  I'm always wanting to improve and fix stuff that is broken.  My mom's always telling me I'm perfect just as I am, not because she doesn't want me to improve, but I think because she thinks I'm so wonderful and it pains her to see me striving all the time.  There's a happy medium in there between how I see myself and how my mom's sees me, but I haven't found it yet. So I keep striving and she keeps reminding me about how great I am.  

A goal I'd really like to strive toward for my mom and me is to keep intentionally making new mother/daughter memories with her.  I think of how much I cherish her daily, but I tell her how much I cherish her rarely, and I want to make sure that she knows it.  Like knows it knows it.  I want her to know that as she feels like she's fumbling her way through life, her heart has given me a road map that leads to love and happiness and fulfillment.  A roadmap that I am lucky enough to have as much of my foundation growing up.  All the good things about me are her fault!  She may have had a hand in some of my quirks too, but I definitely give her credit for all the good stuff. 

Mom, I thank you for who you are, for the way that you love me as I am, for giving me such a safe and warm place to grow up, for making me feel so important and valuable to you, for bearing through my teenage years (always have to throw that in), for cheering me on now, even when I don't do the same for you, for blessing me with atypical selfless parenting, for helping me to believe I was extraordinary, for the incredible grandmother you are to my children, and for sharing your beautiful heart with everyone you meet.  Thank you that each sacrifice you made for me was your sincere joy! 

I'm sorry that there wasn't a Mother's Day card in your mailbox or a gift on your doorstep or flowers on your desk.    You deserve more gifts than anybody else! I know I don't even have to say that I am sorry.  You forgive me and you mean it.  You love me  and you mean it, with no strings attached.  I pray these scattered words saved on a tiny corner of the internets, shared with you on facebook, will touch your heart as much as you deserved to be touched.  I ask that you keep loving me this way, mama, so I can be a mama like you someday.  

I love love love love you! 

Forever yours,  

Jenny Bug

Wordless Wednesday - Addie writing

A writer is born. My kindergartener is learning Metamorphosis.

Wordful Wednesday - Because words matter

Today at work, a friend was having a hard time.  We found 15 minutes to talk and I was so grateful.  At the end of our conversation I told her that she is a good wife.  Because she is.  She really needed to hear that today.  That's not why I said it, I said it because it is true.  

I got back to my desk and she wrote this to me:

You are such a blessing to me and all of your friends and family.

You rock as a wife and mother! And you are a good daughter and daughter-in-law too.

Most of all, you are a beautiful daughter of God! 

I think He must smile often when He thinks of you and your quest to be the best daughter of the King possible.

My friends, I can't think of anything nicer she could have said to me.  That anyone could have said to me.  This has been a tough week, and it's only Wednesday, and here this friend just whipped up what she thinks of me real quick in a gchat.  She whipped up in 30 seconds a few sentences that basically encompass what I want my whole life to be about.  And I'm in awe that someone I respect and think so highly of would say that about me.  Broken, messy, crazy, little, me.  To remind me that in all of my ugly places, God is smiling down on me, as His sweet little girl, and noticing how hard I'm trying.  My words mattered to her, and her words mattered to me.  Say nice things to people who...to people.  Because words matter.  

Wordless Wednesday - the view

Some days I wish I could hold my babies all day long and never go to work. Then I walk in my office to this view and it's like God is courting me, reminding me that He loves me, every minute of my life. Promises and goodness await me.

Early to Rise

I've been reading a lot of good stuff lately.  All of my Amazon reviews in 2013 have been 5 stars.  

I love the path that life takes you on.  I love that books are a vice that you never have to try give up.   I love that there are people who are put here for the purpose of helping other people see life in a way that can help them become who they want to be.  Who can help them believe that there is more to life than the daily grind. 

Over the past few months I’ve come across several of those people, via books, and podcasts, and growth groups.  

And people, my cup overfloweth.  Wait, is that the saying?  

I'm on day 12 of an early to rise challenge.  A simple little thing that is really rocking my world.  And instead of thinking of how I can get out of it, I'm trying to think of ways I can get up even earlier, and fit more stuff I can do during this new found "me time".  

IS this even the same me?  Who has been a snooze button addict since the beginning of time?  Who calculates the minutes in arguing rationalization each morning, negotiating a one less shower or breakfast out of the deal?  Who is the biggest NOT morning person I know?  

It's just such a good time.  Sure, I'm more tired at the end of the day.  But I'm ALONE.  And when the kids get up, I'm pleasant.  Our time together is spend on them, not on me.  I'm already up and caffeinated.  The get up at the same time but somehow we have double the time together before I have to go to work.  AND I've been introduced to the coolest app yet.  Sleep Cycle.  I love getting woken by a smart alarm that knows when I am in a light sleep.  

I've gotten more than a few eye rolls in my life.  You know, for all the self-help books.  But I don't care.  I know who I want to be.  I know other people have really good ideas of how to get there.  I know that seeking wisdom is a critical daily decision of successful and fulfilled people.  I know if I keep working and keep searching and keep striving, I'll get there.  I'll keep getting there.  My soul is full and happy and...full.  

And, Lord love me, I'm a sucker for a 30 day challenge.  

I can do hard stuff.  And if I can do THIS, then maybe, just maybe, I can do anything!  

How exciting is that? 

wordless wednesday - sticky love notes from lily

she leaves them around and they are just a shadow of her beautiful little heart.

Three

The morning of Bryson's third birthday, I got in the shower and thought about the Blog I would write for my little man.  I remember how I wanted to describe him, paint a picture, of a crazy monster with the sweetest heart you'd ever known.  A kid that has turned my world upside down and back again, but who can make the very best of all my days.  He made sure I didn't get too high on my parenting horse with his entrance into the world with colic, then his instant heft that would give my back a run for it's money, then his walking at 10 months, then his getting-in-to-everything-and-running-to-the-most-dangerous-corner-of-the-----everywhere.  With his brilliant big smile he warmed my heart and let me know that I had much less control than I thought I did.  Also, more love than I thought.  Again.  

On the day of his Third Birthday, I took the day off work.  That morning, I got the girls on the school on the bus.  The day was in front of us and I couldn't wait to be with my boy the whole day, just the two of us.  It was the first day we'd ever done something fun, just the two of us.  I felt a little guilty about that, but we were going to change that today.  

The day was December 14.  

I got a text message from my friend Carrie while at the new Portland Aquarium.  Bryson and I were trying on shark costumes.  She told me of a shooting in Connecticut at an elementary school.  My heart skipped a beat and after a little back and forth, I learned K-4, 26 dead, I quickly put my phone back in my back pocket.  I took it out twice to take a picture, but I didn't want to know more.  I wanted to enjoy this time with my baby.  Each time he came in for a hug, I held him a little closer.  And each time he ran away, I felt my heart panic, I needed to be near him.  Part of me wanted to race to school to pick up the girls, but I was an hour away, and I knew Addie was already home with our nanny, and Lily only had 2 hrs left of school.  

Bryson and I went to Red Robin, played with play doh and ate lunch.  He picked out balloons, and made a big mess of his noodles, and I let him.  I didn't tell him one time to eat more, or cleaner, like I wanted to, I just drank him up.  Focusing on him, as I fought the urge to find out more.  They sang to Bryson and he loved every minute of this alone time.  

After lunch was over, I needed to get home and be with the girls.  I needed to be physically in our house with my kids.  I saw a message from our Kindergarten teacher that said some of the kids were Kindergarteners.  I didn't want to imagine and I didn't want to think about how or what to say to my kids about this, I hoped I wouldn't say anything.  I got home to excited girls who were ready, happy, waiting for the birthday boy.  They had no idea.  Of course they didn't.  Thank God they didn't.  They were absolutely full of joy and innocence that it hurt to look at them, but I was thankful.  

It was Friday.  TGIF.  A long awaited day for me.  For all the moms of the world. Pizza / movie night, the easiest night of the week in the Herman house.  We get into PJs before 5pm and we eat pizza in front of a movie until bedtime.  We cuddle on the couch and everyone likes pizza so much, we never have to coax a few more bites.  At bedtime, everyone is tired, relaxed, and ready to sleep.  Bedtime is easy.  All weekday long, we long for Friday night when we can collapse in the easy and comfortable and loving.  

My brother and Heather came over for cupcakes before their movie, and our nanny stayed a little late so we ate cake before dinner, and opened presents before getting into PJs.  It was lovely.  

Lily uncharacteristically complained a lot at Bryson's choice of movie, and as I explained to her that it was his birthday, his choice, and she didn't have to watch with us, but I hoped she would because it was her brother's special day.  I was annoyed with her and also filled with love and gratitude at the same time.  Thankful that this was my problem.  What if this wasn't the explanation I had to deliver on this night?  What if this wasn't the thing she felt the saddest about?  Having to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse instead of Annie.  What if I had to explain that her sister was gone, or that her friends were gone, or to try to make sense of a violation that could never be restored in all of her years.  What if?  

My heart aches when I think about the rawness that I felt that day, the day my little boy turned three.  The day I had so, so much to celebrate.  The day a community lost everything, if not their children, their innocence, their support network, their school.  I have never been so full of fear lurking in the world.  Waiting for me to send my children off to them.  

That weekend I had more patience than maybe I ever had in eight years of parenting.  I drank them up, I memorized their movements, their laughs, their tears.  I knew that whatever emotion I was feeling toward them as they pestered one another, or woke me up at night, I was lucky to be experiencing it.  I felt blessed and guilty.  Guilty for being blessed.  Guilting for it taking another's tragedy to wake me into perspective.  But that's what it takes sometimes.  

I was forever changed by the horror that happened to an elementary school 3,000 miles away.  I knew I would never forget the pain that I felt in my heart.  I hoped that was the worst thing I would ever experience in my lifetime, and I was sad because I knew it almost certainly would not be.  

And here we are.  Two months later.  Most of us have all but forgotten.  We think about it, we shutter, and we go on.  We make sure that we look at our kids in the eyes and tell them we love them before they get on the bus.  Say we are sorry before they run off for a day out of our control.  But we aren't gripped by the urgency anymore.  Maybe that's because emotionally it is too exhausting to live in that kind of fear.  We can't protect them from everything.  My friend, Melanie, touched me on that first painful Monday, when I had to send them back to school and I didn't want to.  She reminded me that my teachers love those kids as much as I do, and they will do anything and everything I would do to keep them safe.  I thought of my teachers, my friends, and...oh, that is so true.  It gave me comfort and courage to walk through that week. 

And in the weeks since I've prayed and I've thought endlessly about those families, those mamas.  I've read so many good blogs, like - I know what 6 looks like & I am Adam Lanza's mother.  I've read articles that have helped me to understand why this tragedy touched me so deeply, and how we are all victims here.  But I'm scared.  Scared of how easily my heart goes from broken to numb. I hope I can find a way to let this break my heart again and again, not because I want to feel the pain, but because with the pain came such clarity about what matters and what it really means to live in the moment and celebrate my present.   I want it to allow me to feel the compassion and gratitude in that big messy lump in my throat in those weeks after Bryson's 3rd birthday.  And if I'm totally honest, I want to love my kids as much as I did that weekend.  I want to love them so much that I never look away when they are talking.  I want to love them so much that I never grumble at giving another good night hug.  I want to love them so much that the mere sound of their voice gives me delight, every time.  And I will and I can.  As long as I can remember.  I can remember.  I want to remember.  

I'm posting below the things I wrote on Facebook last December.  I remember choosing each word carefully and from my heart.  Reading them again as I prepared to write this blog reminded me that they are important because they are mine.  

Every year, I will celebrate even harder that I have another year with my baby boy, and I will ache for the families out there who are hurting as they think about what should have been.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Matthew 5:4

Dec 14 - Bryson's third birthday - I was expecting this day to be filled with joy and tears but...I had no idea. It was hard to soak in our day and feel joyful knowing many were hurting in ways that I pray I never have to know. I celebrated my birthday boy, memorized his smile, his energy, and loved all my kids so much it ached to look at them and ached to look away from them. I tried to keep my trembling and worried mind at bay by staying in the present, enjoying the moments I have right in front of me. My heart and prayers are with those that lost everything today, and I am reminded how precious each and every life is. I'm so full of love and pain, and I imagine I'm not alone.

Dec 15 - My rockstar kindergartener on the last night of Hanukkah. I delighted in her every move today, every smile, and even in the mean stuff she did to her brother. I gladly gave in to "one more hug" three times during bedtime stalling. I simply can't imagine a world without her infectious laugh in it. I feel a little guilty but mostly so grateful for every single thing that could have gone unnoticed today but was not.

Dec 17 - Hurting like it's the first time I've ever left them. :(

Dec 18 - Jeanine and Carrie, I'm so, so thankful for you both. Laugh with me, cry with me, get angry with me, and love with me. I so needed what you two amazing ladies gave me today. Then I got in the car with Mr. Herman and the rest of my family in our pajamas with blankets on our laps and we looked at Christmas lights and ate junk and drank/spilled hot chocolate and sang songs and laughed, windows down, heater up. That was the other thing I really needed today. Still hearthurting and still grateful.

Jan 7 - Back to work. Back to school. It was still dark out at 8:30am. I miss my babies. I feel uneasy again. Dreary day in the PNW. Whoa. Is. Me.

Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones.  When you have finished your daily task, go to sleep in peace.  God is awake.  ~Victor Hugo~