Everyone needs a little Glitter

Sixteen years ago I was registered to attend a lamaze class.  Eight hours of Lamaze.  I didn't want to go.  I wanted to spend Saturday at home.  I had been dreading the whole lamaze thing since the day I registered.  I woke up at 6a.m. with back pain.  By 7 the pain was much worse.  My dad was sitting in his lazy boy and I was in my mom's.  My mother and husband were in the camp of 'we signed up.  It won't be bad.  We probably should go.'
But Dad see, Dad, he was always on my side.  I remember him saying 'Heck with Lamaze.  She is probably in early labor right now.  You want her to have the baby in the class?'  Ha! Guess who got to stay home?

I settled in to read, watch Football and talk with Dad. By the time the family was readying for church I was feeling some pretty intense contractions.  Dad said 'Thomas load her in the car.  We will be there later!'  And off we went.

Nebraska was playing Arizona that night.  I packed a radio and headphones.  The hospital was absolutely quiet with TV's all on the same channel, from patients to Dr's to nurses station.  BUT it wasn't going well.  In fact it was horrible.  I was walking the hall listening to the game and making about as much progress toward birthing my child as the Huskers were toward a touchdown.  I am pretty sure the resident on call was ready to send me home.  And then in walks my Dr.  wearing Husker gear and a frown.  I don't remember his exact words, but they were something along the lines of "The Huskers aren't doing a thing.  Let's have this baby."  So we did.

I believed the child I was carrying was a boy.   My mother wanted me to have an oldest daughter.  She said every mother should have an oldest daughter.  As I write that now I realize that was really a beautiful thing to say to me.

My oldest daughter has done things on her own time, on big days and small, each day of her life.

Yes, we are both 'oldest daughter's' but that is where the similarities end.  For one thing, the other day I heard her say she loved calculus.  I have NEVER uttered those words.

As a child she moved through potential careers and fashion choices with a nimble ease and a passionate certainty.  Meteorologist, missionary, candy maker, a missionary candy maker, country western star, writer, actor, peace corp volunteer.  Tutus and curls, dance costumes and dresses, nike shorts and Calhoun t shirts, NOTHING PINK,  lots of pink, only pants, never pants, trendy, anti trends, vintage and thrift.  I remember during her sparkle phase she and I were shopping.  A lovely sales woman showed #1 a sequin skirt and said, "Wouldn't your mother be beautiful in this?"
#1 replied with total earnestness, "No thank you ma'am.  My mother just wears plain black pants."
Indeed.  God love her.

If you read this blog you know I am a planner, a list maker, madam practical.  I am known in some blogging circles as, The Management.  I don't do spontaneous or fanciful.  What if?  Not my type of question.  Prepared.  That is my motto.

But God gave me a sort of 'antidote' to all that planning and practicality.  My Mary Beth.

Her clown costume came with a free joke at every house!

While her years of twirling through the house and reading books in trees have passed, she still plans 'frolicking' outings with her friends.  And though she studies calculus and physics and has attended college fairs, she still loves a skirt that will pass the 'spin' test.

Over the last few years writing has taken a prominent role in her life.  Many of her blog posts have left me stirred:  pride, awe, new thoughts and memories seen through a different lens. Last year she took
on Poetry Slam.  I had no idea what this meant.  Open mic, Karoake and Improv... all things that terrify me.  But here is this child of mine in her mismatched, but carefully chosen vintage wear, standing at a microphone pouring forth her poems.  The first time I heard her I cried and my heart ached.  Later I realized I had reacted with such emotion that I forgot to take in the experience.  I didn't make the same mistake the next time.  I watched and listen to the audience.  The gasps, sighs, snaps, Oh Yeah's, You Tell It's.  The people leaning forward in their seats, heads nodding.  My child raised that within these strangers.  I've watched the video and read the words over and over since.  It never ceases to amaze me.
She continues to perform and her words are maturing; her style evolving.  I can't wait to see where she goes next.

So many strengths and passions abound in this one being.  Her parents, well, we wanted to give her the experiences we could afford, to show her enough to help her recognize on her own what compassion was and how to share it.  Warm heart, open mind, generous spirit.  The traits I wanted in my child.  They are ever present in my #1.   And while I know that I wanted this and tried to make decisions that would help me raise a child like this, she still amazes me.  I constantly feel as though she has happened in spite of me or FOR me.

Even in the chaos of a family vacation, #1 makes time to sit and think.

She is in denial about her current phase of life.  That of Junior in high school.  As in 2 years and it is time to go to college. Denial:  I should be there too.  But I am so very aware that she will bound for the world very soon.  And oddly, I don't want to deny it.  I am almost excited for it.  It is a bit like how I felt when waiting for her to start talking.  What will she sound like?  What will she say? Her father and I have been musing over just what the heck she would choose to do for years.  16 years.

My oldest child has changed many times over in her 16 years of life.  But her status as ray of sunshine has never changed.  And while she is in more than just a few ways, most definitely a teenage girl, she is far from ordinary.  Life with her in the house is far from ordinary.
She tolerates my planning and square ways with good humoring and understanding.  But I think she probably sprinkles glitter in my morning coffee.

On September 22nd, 1996 (and for the record it was suppose to be October 18th) a round headed, blue eyed sprite was handed to me.  When Dr. Huff said, 'It's a girl.'  I replied, 'Are you sure?'

I could almost ask God that same question today.  Are you sure this one is mine?  She is so fanciful and intelligent.  Confident and compassionate.  Musical and Musing.  What if I break her?  Are you sure she is supposed to be mine?

My heart feels His answer, "Trust me.  She is just what you need."

How did this happen?

Flags are at half staff again.  Facebook is full of photos and quotes reminding us of something that none of us needs to be reminded of.  Truly.  Anyone alive on 9/11/01 remembers in perfect kodak color the events of that day.  As the date nears we begin to 'feel' it; we know it is coming. And no, we won't ever forget.  It is so very true.

One of the questions coming out of that horrendous day was 'how did this happen?' And 11 years later I am pretty sure we don't have a good answer for it.  Hatred and evil and closed minds and tortured souls took an action that felt right to them.  Thousands were hurt/killed; victimized by the actions spawned from that hatred.  Truthfully we can do a lot of researching and take preventative measures and have pat downs and small baggies holding our stuff and still, where there is hatred and evil and closed minds and tortured souls, then thousands more can be hurt.

Where there is....

St. Francis tells us, Where there is hatred let me sow love, where there is injury, pardon.  Where there is doubt, faith.  Where there is misery, joy.

While 9/11 brought hatred and evil to the forefront of our minds in 2011, that same date just 3 years earlier meant something quite different to my family.

Love, forgiveness, faith, joy, happiness, celebration and awe arrived in the form of a 7 pound miracle.  My Anna Marie.

Each year I blog about my children individually on the date of their birth.  Anna's is always a bit bitter sweet. While unfair it is the case and will always be a part of her story.

She entered high school this year.   A Freshmen.  I caught her 'getting ready' to go to a football game.  I am pretty sure that just 12 months ago she threw on shorts and a t shirt and was ready.

She has a school computer, a funky back pack, her own sense of style and taste, make up, hipster glasses, friends who are nearly ready for college, a room decorated with silly friend photos and ticket stubs and magazine collages. She adds music and apps to my iTunes.  She uses spotify.  Chats and face times with friends.   She has pre season sports workouts. She asked about shopping for a homecoming dress.

Who is this child?  How did THIS happen?
To answer...a rambling guess from the mother...

She is a mirror of my youth.  Her wispy, sun bleached hair pulling free of the hair tie, just as her spirit pulls free of the restrictions of self doubt.  She is as long legged as any model, but that sensual grace still eludes her.  Instead she strides forward through life more like a yearling horse.  She even has those spontaneous equine leaps and bounds and yes, falls. Her laughter rings clear and bright.  Her stern words and harsh retorts cut quick and sharp.  In this way that mirror image of me has an X-ray quality, seeing through to the heart of us both.  The maternal instinct she carries is a strength and a weakness.  Doting on her siblings in a way that makes her invaluable to them in every situation.  The same quality causing her endless exasperation.
THIS- the growth and maturity of my second child- happened because biology wills it.  God decreed it.  Time marches on.  She happened because there is a God.  Because that God wants us to sow love, joy faith and mercy.  Because every mother knows that we inflict multitudes of injuries upon ourselves as women, daughters, wives and mothers, but the love of a child is pardon for all those wounds.  She happened because, I believe, God IS.

How can I make these two events on 9/11's exist next to that phrase, God IS.  I don't know how, but I know I must and I do.

An interesting paradox my Anna.  Fitting for a child who will always have at least a little celebration on a day when the country is in mourning.

On a date where hatred and fear reign, love was sown and joy given.
On a date marked by anger and outrage, mercy and pardon grew in the hearts of proud parents.
On a date that inflicted injury and tragedy, healing and hope was delivered to my waiting arms.





14 years of joy and mystery and love and growth and hope.  My darling child growing up and probably away, little by little.  But never out of my heart.

2012-2013 Here We Go.

A Junior.  A Freshmen.  A 2nd Grader. Two Preschoolers.  Two teachers.

Getting ready for the school year is pretty major in a house hold of this composition.  A variety of worries and anxieties.  Many levels of enthusiasm and angst.  Many reasons for wanting and not wanting the school year to start.

But no one asked any of us; the year just started.

First #1 and Dad took off to DASH.  They have been hard at work ever since.  #1 is currently feeling the pressure of junior year.  The work and the future seem ever present for her.  She is lovely and successful already and I have no doubt the year will continue to go well for her. She is already at work on the fall production.  She and Dad are rehearsing 'A Comedy of Errors.'

Then two weeks later #2, #3 and Things 1 and 2 packed the Pilot with me and off we went to BT.  I made a big effort to organize the morning so I could take the twins to their first classroom on the first day of school.  They skipped all the way to the room. Packed away their bags and cruised off to play.  I said goodbye 3 times.  I even said, 'Mommy is leaving now.'  They didn't care at all.  Just kept playing and yelled, 'bye.'

#3 settled in just as quickly. Lovin' her new room and seeing her friends, she too was ready for me to go my way. Again, this is just what you hope for as a parent.  It is beautiful to see confidence and enjoyment blossoming in #3.  She truly loves her school.

Freshman year started for #2 and I think she loves it.  She certainly looks too 'freshmany' for my tastes. Lovely, but so darn grown up.  The homework is hitting her hard already, but she has never been afraid to work hard.

The fall play is around the corner for me and as we are under new leadership here I feel compelled to make it pretty great.  Who knows.
Right now I am getting my feet under me and wondering how I am going to manage it all.

But I still feel pretty blessed that I have 'it all' to manage.

Good Bye summer of F's.

The Summer is officially done.  All the markers are there to say it is true:  teacher days, school shopping, first day of school and Labor Day have all passed.  The white shoes are put away.

It is with some uncertainty I report that the summer was good.  I learned a lot about faith from a variety of sources and situations.  I spent hours each day with portions of the family doing whatever, whenever, with little or no schedule.  Zoo- 8 trips.  Children's Museum- 12 trips.  Durham- 5 trips. Botanical Gardens- 3 trips.  4 splash parks.  7 city parks.  2 trips to Fontanelle Forest.  I think we did this summer up just right.  Oh, and camping to South Dakota and a ton of swimming.

Fall preparation?  Well it took a back seat to Family, as it should.  But I chose a fall play and a musical. I had costume meetings and Fairy Godmother meetings to plan ahead.  I have read, read and reread the script.  The musical lives in my head a bit looser.  I had lesson plans done and new ideas cultivated enough to get started.  My room was fancy for the open house.  I guess I call that a win.

Fitness.  Yeah, fitness pretty much sucked.  I am not going to get in to that here.

We jump in to a new school recharged and ready.  I ran like a crazy woman all summer long, but I have no regrets about that.  Didn't take care of myself like perhaps I should have, but I worked on being a first rate mom and I think I came pretty close.

Now to find the balance so first rate mom can meet first rate teacher.  Oh boy.