So a long weekend lay ahead and there were several needs looming as well. Thomas needed to be at school working on the set, #2 needed to be at basketball practices, #1 needed an overnight trip to her chosen college St Kate University and I needed a break.
Doesn't everyone imagine a road trip with 3 kids under age 9 and a nervous teen as a 'Break?' Well, in the recesses of my mind this is exactly how I imagined it.
The planning began: a rental car, a hotel room- free breakfast and a pool, registration for college visit overnight and research on what is fun and cheap to do in the twin cities. Research the weather DAILY to be sure we won't drive into anything and that we can get back home.
Saturday morning the 15th dawned clear and bright and we loaded the rental car and headed north.
The computer played movies, MB's iPad played music and all was good until the weather wasn't.
40 minutes outside DesMoines the snow started and by Des Moines it was snowing in earnest and the roads were icky. We looked at the weather during lunch and it was supposed to stop. We shopped at Target, had a long lunch and sure enough it stopped. However, between DM, IA and St Paul MN we were in 3 traffic jams and a 3 hours trip took nearly 6. The kids did great and we were flooded with relief when we arrived safely at our hotel.
We were nearly giddy when we saw our suite style room and the GIANT water slide in the hotel pool.
Swimming, pizza delivery and Nickolodean on the TV and the rough drive was forgotten.
Day one concluded… big plans for day two!
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Another Proud Moment
In an earlier blog I wrote about the fact that child #1 has composed a book of poetry. I knew she was writing and I knew she was capable, but that she was actually putting together a book was a bit of a surprise. When I finally got to see the book I was overwhelmed and I admit that I read it over and over. In the way a new mom watches a baby when it naps, just to be looking at the new baby, I read and reread those poems.
Proudly she and I both announced to friends and anyone who would listen that she had a book. Through the wonders of social media an amazing thing happened…. child #1 was offered an opportunity to do a book reading, signing, selling event at a local coffeehouse. Neither she nor I could believe it.
So through the use of Facebook, twitter and the organizational skills of some wonderful ladies we put together an event at Stories Coffeehouse. The plan was to make child #1 and her books available from 11-1p.m. with her presenting poems at 11 and 12.
Over the course of the event about 30 people came and went. My Poet signed and sold quite a few books. Her readings were honest and full of conviction and passion. Her audience was proud and entertained. I loved every minute to it.
By the time the event was over #1 was able to say she had made a profit on the book printing. She had also gotten in enough reading that by the time she headed to the Om Center Slam that night she was practiced and ready. She plowed right through the competition and into 3rd place beating most of the adults. It was a great night for her and a super way to cap off a fun day.
Who knows where book writing, poetry speaking or a combination of both will take this young woman and really it doesn't matter. Her parents are already enormously proud.
Proudly she and I both announced to friends and anyone who would listen that she had a book. Through the wonders of social media an amazing thing happened…. child #1 was offered an opportunity to do a book reading, signing, selling event at a local coffeehouse. Neither she nor I could believe it.
So through the use of Facebook, twitter and the organizational skills of some wonderful ladies we put together an event at Stories Coffeehouse. The plan was to make child #1 and her books available from 11-1p.m. with her presenting poems at 11 and 12.
Over the course of the event about 30 people came and went. My Poet signed and sold quite a few books. Her readings were honest and full of conviction and passion. Her audience was proud and entertained. I loved every minute to it.
By the time the event was over #1 was able to say she had made a profit on the book printing. She had also gotten in enough reading that by the time she headed to the Om Center Slam that night she was practiced and ready. She plowed right through the competition and into 3rd place beating most of the adults. It was a great night for her and a super way to cap off a fun day.
Who knows where book writing, poetry speaking or a combination of both will take this young woman and really it doesn't matter. Her parents are already enormously proud.
Friday, February 7, 2014
Restless
Bangs, no bangs. Short spiky hair, grow it out. Pierce the ear, pierce the cartilage. Contemplate a tattoo. Throw out a bunch of decorative items and buy new at Goodwill. Take all the photos down and put new ones up. In new frames.
Warning signs man, warning signs.
I can be perfectly happy, comfortable, content, proud even, of where I am, what I am doing, what my kids are doing, where I live.
Then BAM.
I start changing things in the house, change my hair, get grumpy and unsettled about work. Look at everyone else's work place as so much better.
I start second guessing my choice of employment, style, house, car.
This is what I do. I can recognize it now as a pattern and not a healthy one.
Morale is poor at school, to say the least and that causes me to feel restless at work. Truly I have good people around me and students that I really enjoy. I am allowed to grow and change professionally with little question. All good. And yet, here I am thinking about all the other places I may want to work.
The little house on Grant St is lovely and decorated in much the way I like it. And we can afford it. But here I am looking at houses and even visiting houses as if I am going to move the family. Weird.
My faith life needs work. I must learn to be settled and happy with who and what I am. It is a monstrous task that I must undertake. If I don't, I will find myself less and less happy. And dragging my family with me.
God send your peace to me. Help me to be grateful and content.
Let me show that I am aware of my blessings and can live my life with purpose and gratitude.
Warning signs man, warning signs.
I can be perfectly happy, comfortable, content, proud even, of where I am, what I am doing, what my kids are doing, where I live.
Then BAM.
I start changing things in the house, change my hair, get grumpy and unsettled about work. Look at everyone else's work place as so much better.
I start second guessing my choice of employment, style, house, car.
This is what I do. I can recognize it now as a pattern and not a healthy one.
Morale is poor at school, to say the least and that causes me to feel restless at work. Truly I have good people around me and students that I really enjoy. I am allowed to grow and change professionally with little question. All good. And yet, here I am thinking about all the other places I may want to work.
The little house on Grant St is lovely and decorated in much the way I like it. And we can afford it. But here I am looking at houses and even visiting houses as if I am going to move the family. Weird.
My faith life needs work. I must learn to be settled and happy with who and what I am. It is a monstrous task that I must undertake. If I don't, I will find myself less and less happy. And dragging my family with me.
God send your peace to me. Help me to be grateful and content.
Let me show that I am aware of my blessings and can live my life with purpose and gratitude.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
The New Normal?
I literally threw the kids into their beds last night and then grabbed my favorite ice pack and hauled my tired, aching body up the steps to bed.
Checking Facebook and email are usually the last items on my list of things to do in case family or students needs something before I crash. There at the top of my news feed was a photo of Macy and Miley Lisle. The status read, 'Four years ago today we got our sweet girls.'
Well Shit.
I blew off GOTCHA DAY!
We didn't just blow off celebrating it; we didn't even mention it. And by we I mean ME. I am the one who keeps track of these things. But it never crossed my mind.
We got up and out the door; probably arguing with each other the whole time. We all went to school and did our thing.
After school and rehearsal #2 had a basketball game and I drug the 3 littles over to the gym to cheer on their sister. I bribed cooperation out of them by telling them they could have concession stand for dinner. The concession stand was closed. The kids behavior was horrible.
I felt like every person was watching me and thinking, 'Some people….fill in the blank.'
They were worse on the drive home, worse waiting for Thomas to come out of school, worse getting ready for bed.
It was a day when more than once I thought, 'What have I done? I have no business trying to parent these children. I can't do it.'
When I looked back on the day I was crushed with guilt knowing that I had not only forgotten to celebrate or recognize our 4th Gotcha Day, but that I had spent much of our time together thinking about how it was so hard.
The thing is, it is hard. Somedays harder than others, but always a bit tough. Not a day goes by when I don't feel like one of my five didn't get what they needed. It is a snow day today and I spent the morning turning the house upside down because 4 pairs of glasses are missing. 4. We only found 2. I probably through the other two away. Who does that?
Then again, I get more hugs and kisses and I love yous than parents with fewer kids. I get more laughs and happy tears. My life experiences go far beyond the norm. When people aren't looking at me like a child neglecting psycho case they look at me like I am a hero. Someone who saved three little people from a life of poverty and hopelessness.
So the trade offs are pretty good.
As I have traded working time for writing time I have spent a lot of time thinking about Gotcha Day and how in the world I forgot it. In all probability it is an honest sign that I am too busy and too stressed for my own good.
But what if it means something else.
The first Gotcha Day was HUGE. We had made it a year. The toughest year of our married family life. We needed to mark it and celebrate. Year two? Celebrating that it was a TON better than year One. Year three? We celebrated because I remembered and child #3 loves a party. There wasn't any specific WOW feel. And now number 4 came and went without me remembering or feeling the need to celebrate.
Maybe because after 4 years together it just feels like we have always been this way. Maybe it took four years for us to reach normal, but maybe we got there.
John's Gotcha Day is February 10. He came home a week later. The plan is to celebrate with a party of some type on Sunday, February 9. We will celebrate Gotcha Day and the way our family became what it is today.
However, maybe what we will really be celebrating is the recognition of our family's normal.
Checking Facebook and email are usually the last items on my list of things to do in case family or students needs something before I crash. There at the top of my news feed was a photo of Macy and Miley Lisle. The status read, 'Four years ago today we got our sweet girls.'
Well Shit.
I blew off GOTCHA DAY!
We didn't just blow off celebrating it; we didn't even mention it. And by we I mean ME. I am the one who keeps track of these things. But it never crossed my mind.
We got up and out the door; probably arguing with each other the whole time. We all went to school and did our thing.
After school and rehearsal #2 had a basketball game and I drug the 3 littles over to the gym to cheer on their sister. I bribed cooperation out of them by telling them they could have concession stand for dinner. The concession stand was closed. The kids behavior was horrible.
I felt like every person was watching me and thinking, 'Some people….fill in the blank.'
They were worse on the drive home, worse waiting for Thomas to come out of school, worse getting ready for bed.
It was a day when more than once I thought, 'What have I done? I have no business trying to parent these children. I can't do it.'
When I looked back on the day I was crushed with guilt knowing that I had not only forgotten to celebrate or recognize our 4th Gotcha Day, but that I had spent much of our time together thinking about how it was so hard.
The thing is, it is hard. Somedays harder than others, but always a bit tough. Not a day goes by when I don't feel like one of my five didn't get what they needed. It is a snow day today and I spent the morning turning the house upside down because 4 pairs of glasses are missing. 4. We only found 2. I probably through the other two away. Who does that?
Then again, I get more hugs and kisses and I love yous than parents with fewer kids. I get more laughs and happy tears. My life experiences go far beyond the norm. When people aren't looking at me like a child neglecting psycho case they look at me like I am a hero. Someone who saved three little people from a life of poverty and hopelessness.
So the trade offs are pretty good.
As I have traded working time for writing time I have spent a lot of time thinking about Gotcha Day and how in the world I forgot it. In all probability it is an honest sign that I am too busy and too stressed for my own good.
But what if it means something else.
The first Gotcha Day was HUGE. We had made it a year. The toughest year of our married family life. We needed to mark it and celebrate. Year two? Celebrating that it was a TON better than year One. Year three? We celebrated because I remembered and child #3 loves a party. There wasn't any specific WOW feel. And now number 4 came and went without me remembering or feeling the need to celebrate.
Maybe because after 4 years together it just feels like we have always been this way. Maybe it took four years for us to reach normal, but maybe we got there.
John's Gotcha Day is February 10. He came home a week later. The plan is to celebrate with a party of some type on Sunday, February 9. We will celebrate Gotcha Day and the way our family became what it is today.
However, maybe what we will really be celebrating is the recognition of our family's normal.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Surviving the Sweetheart Ball
The big night arrived and it took a whole day to prepare. I may never tease and gripe about the tendency for high school girls to take HOURS to get ready for prom.
I started my day at 5a.m. doing laundry, what else.
By 9 a.m. we were in the car headed to Mighty Hoopsters basketball with two very excited twins. The game was, well, hilarious. Rather like watching cats being herded. The twins did quite well. They seemed to get what was going on and Mr Man was all about scoring. I was most proud of the fact that they listened to their coach, tried really hard and focused all about the game and not the snack, or chatting with friends. Cant' wait till next week for game #2!
While we were at the game Anna was with Nana and Britney getting her hair done.
10:30 we were all back home, tux retrieved, kids a bit tired, Anna looking lovely.
A fresh pot of coffee, a short rest in bed and I was off to see my dear buddy Linda to get my own hair fixed.
I enjoyed 90 minutes of pampering as Linda coaxed my heavy wild hair into the fanciest undo I have ever had. I felt pretty glamourous and I was still in yoga pants and an old button down shirt.
Home by 2:45 just enough time for a bath- some epsom salts for the feet and razor for the legs. I figured this event deserved shaved legs.
At 3:15 Fairy godmother arrived with her bag of tricks. Via was thrilled. Smokey eye with glitter highlights, eyebrows powder to fill and shape, eyeliner that was perfect thanks to the knowing hands of FGM.
Photos at 4 and off we went to meet up with Anna and begin our night.
There was good wine, conversation and meet and greet. My lovely girl and her lovely best friend. We looked and even bid on some wonderful art work. Had a nice meal.
Before I knew it the night had come and gone and I was on my way home. Not only did I survive, but I may have even enjoyed it.
Ssssshhhh, don't tell.
I started my day at 5a.m. doing laundry, what else.
By 9 a.m. we were in the car headed to Mighty Hoopsters basketball with two very excited twins. The game was, well, hilarious. Rather like watching cats being herded. The twins did quite well. They seemed to get what was going on and Mr Man was all about scoring. I was most proud of the fact that they listened to their coach, tried really hard and focused all about the game and not the snack, or chatting with friends. Cant' wait till next week for game #2!
While we were at the game Anna was with Nana and Britney getting her hair done.
10:30 we were all back home, tux retrieved, kids a bit tired, Anna looking lovely.
A fresh pot of coffee, a short rest in bed and I was off to see my dear buddy Linda to get my own hair fixed.
I enjoyed 90 minutes of pampering as Linda coaxed my heavy wild hair into the fanciest undo I have ever had. I felt pretty glamourous and I was still in yoga pants and an old button down shirt.
Home by 2:45 just enough time for a bath- some epsom salts for the feet and razor for the legs. I figured this event deserved shaved legs.
There was good wine, conversation and meet and greet. My lovely girl and her lovely best friend. We looked and even bid on some wonderful art work. Had a nice meal.
Ssssshhhh, don't tell.
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