Love and Imperfection

Standing in my bedroom tonight, I coughed kind of loudly. A moment later, I heard a sweet little voice from inside the bedroom across the hall, responding to my raspy hack. "You okay?" I grinned to myself, as I froze in silence. It was the voice of my newly-minted 2-year-old, coming from his crib, no doubt where he was lying on his back with his feet up in the air, poking them between the rails and against the wall, as he likes to do. Choosing not to enter into a conversation that I knew would mean another 15 minutes of settling him into bed, I didn't respond. Quiet. Then, my concerned caretaker seemed satisfied, as he continued on to other pressing duties, in song. "A-B-C-D-eeeehhhhhggeeeeeee..."

How do they do it? Children are not easy. They whine, they fuss, they don't listen.  They take crackers into the living room against my instructions where the ants find them. They refuse to eat the food I made especially for them. They refuse to eat the food I made especially for me. They refuse to eat any food. They want me to get out a big, awkward toy that requires set-up. So I do it. Then they want me to put it away because it's in the way of the next game they're trying to play. I don't do it. I tell them, too bad, they have to play around it, because mommy wants to sit down for a few minutes. "No, you may not have any candy." "Come here so I can help you blow your nose." "You have to stay in 'time-out' until I tell you." "We can't go to the park right now, it's bedtime." "Yes, you have to brush your teeth." "No, you always need to use your own toothbrush." "Please wash your hands." "I know you don't want to, but we share our things."

I really try to say things other than "no" as much as I can, although it's a lot harder than one might think. I let Mason go to bed in a laundry basket once. He was begging. I think he lasted about 30 seconds. He went through a phase where he wanted to sleep on the floor. Okay. That's fine. I really just care that you are sleeping. Of course, he only spent minutes on the floor each night before he realized it wasn't as great as he thought it would be. Still though, he would have me tuck him in, pulling blankets around him with the perfect tautness. Ok, here's a big one. I let the boys play on our coffee table. More like, climb, jump, slide, and hang on that coffee table. I know it bothers some people who see it. They think I shouldn't let them do it. They don't say it, not out loud. While that used to kind of bother me, now I really don't care. These boys jump from that table onto the couch like performers with great style, twisting, turning, starting backwards and landing with their faces in the pillows. Sometimes it's a sideways fall, or a leap over a brother, and many times a simple straight-forward high jump. They know (ok, theoretically) that it's a special thing reserved for our table and our couch, and they love it. "Mommy watch me!" Then there is the inevitable slip, trip, flop, or bump that brings them to me for comfort. But then they're right back at it and the tears are still wet.

So much of me has always felt like a non-mother. Maybe that's why I sometimes write about obvious things making an impression on me (I don't claim to be extraordinarily insightful, just honest). I never "had" to hold the babies. I didn't enjoy babysitting. I had no younger siblings to help me learn how to be a care-taker at a young age. I was the one with two mothers my whole life (thank you, sister, Renee, a.k.a my second mom), and for the most part, I loved it. I enjoyed being the baby of the family (sometimes I still milk that one). I was freaked out when I realized that I was actually going to have to figure all that stuff out for myself. I was going to have to grow up. And not just pretend. I knew I'd have to actually be responsible. There wouldn't be someone to bail me out when I decided I'd had enough. I had no idea what I was in for. I was scared. And rightly so. It's no picnic.

When I see Max spend 15 minutes "practicing" climbing in and out of his crib before bedtime, I start to realize I may have learned something about being a real grown-up. I'm not sure I can aptly put it into words, but maybe it's that I know I'm still a work in progress myself, needing practice for all the adult skills I've supposedly mastered, or at least all the ones us "adults" try to act like we have. We're secure, we always know what to do, we know how everything works.  Kids, if you need to know something, ask an adult.  They are experts on everything (ha). And sure, I can make a list of crazy things my kids do, but how many ridiculous things did I do this week? Did I say I was going to go to the gym and then not go? Did I say I was going to be careful of what I ate and then scarf down a bunch of dark chocolate reeses peanut butter cups three nights in a row? Did I put off calling the repair guy yet again (seriously, it's been two months)? Maybe I didn't kick or shove anyone, but did I think something unkind about someone? I wish I could say "no" to at least one of those questions.

So, to answer my query from earlier...How do they do it? How do they take so much of our physical, emotional, and mental energy and then turn around and make us feel like it's all worth it?  It sounds crazy, but that's how it works, isn't it? Every time. For all my non-adult feelings, my thoughts of lost independence, lack of time for myself, and a bittersweet pause (if not a total stop) in a career I've enjoyed, I am humbled at the way my heart has changed, opened, and grown, since becoming a mother. Often these days, when I'm losing my patience, feeling like a broken record and like I'm talking to a brick wall, it's only a matter of time before a little Max will ask me if I'm "okay", stunning me with his apparent concern, his obvious ability to watch and learn from what I do, and it will snap me right back into the present, a place where I know that these moments are fleeting, that if I'm blessed enough to watch my children grow into adulthood, that it will always go too fast, and before I realize it, they won't be so completely and utterly dependent on me to teach them about life and to provide them with a good one. I know that as much as I often feel drained, I know I will feel immensely more empty once they are grown and gone and that if I don't relish this time in my life, I will regret it later. And maybe someday, I'll be dependent on them, and they will take care of me, in a thoughtful, gentle manner, loving me in spite of my imperfections.

Tomorrow, maybe I'll agree to read "just one more story", or break a few of the rules. And maybe, I will care a little less what other people think, and pause before my voice rises in frustration, when I remember that I, too, am not perfect.

Ode "2" Max

My baby boy, Max, turned two today. I can't believe how fast the time has gone. Here are a few fun pics to remember the last couple of years that he's been a part of our family.

Our first pic of Max back in April 2009. 

Cooking cousins.

During my 38th week, we went in to be induced but had a surprise Cesarean.

Our little Max had arrived on November 13, 2009. It was Friday the 13th. Just like his Dad.

First time meeting his big brother. Who was clearly super impressed. So glad I captured this special moment. Ha ha.

We took the train into the city around Christmas time. Here we are at Union Station.

6 months old.

 Sometimes laid-back.

Sometimes, not...

Max turns one!

He's a little cautious at times.

And brave other times.

My happy little family.

I've always been jealous of his amazing hair.

18 months. Finally got a serious haircut.

My budding artist.

Max has always been a tender-hearted little guy.

One of my favorites.  Perfectly captures his cheery little aura!

Happy Birthday, Max! We love you so much and can't imagine our lives or our family without you. Here's to many more, little buddy!

Alone...please.

I'm not sure if it's the shorter days, the cooler weather, or the gray skies that seem to be hanging on longer, but I've been feeling my inner introvert kick in with great force. I'm entering a phase of serious re-energizing and I'm not surprised if some people think I'm odd, strange, or down right rude. Of course, I don't mean to be any of those things.  Needing to be re-energized, for me, means that I need to be alone.

I don't want to plan any parties (sorry, Max, even though you are turning 2 next weekend...so, we'll see what we come up with), go to any events with crowds of any size (church too, sadly), or have to be "on" in any form.  I get exhausted hanging out with a lot of people (or less than a lot, if it's the wrong people). I don't have my usual energy to do laundry, clean the house, or tackle my favorite home projects. And I'm sure it sounds ridiculous, at least to the 70% of the population who are extroverts and have no idea what I'm talking about, when I say that I just want to be alone with my journal, my pen, and my thoughts.

Ditching my family entirely to meet my introverted needs is not something I'm going to do, so I suck it up and push through it.  Ugh.  But it doesn't come without a price.  Although holing up in my dorm room in college worked just fine, I can't exactly tell my energetic toddlers to go whip up some breakfast on their own because I need an extra hour to finish my contemplative thoughts.  Rather, I've had to be especially creative to respect my own needs while not neglecting my family's.  As an example, all three boys were sleeping on Sabbath afternoon when I snuck outside to the backyard with my journal, puffer jacket and favorite lounge chair.  I cozied up, finally alone in the quiet, breeze blowing the crisp leaves, started writing, and in the midst of my first sentence as I'm basking in my "I'm so sneaky" feeling, a little red-headed boy comes bounding around the corner with his summer shoes and no coat and says in the most energetic, sweetest, highest, littlest voice, "Hi Mommy! You out here?" It was as if he, too, had discovered a little secret and he knew it was special.  While I didn't get much (okay, any) writing done I did have the front seat to a performance of how many different ways you can go down a slide headfirst, how to play golf with a plastic bat, and I got to be the designated puller of a red wagon expedition looking for good sticks.

Despite my current state, I wouldn't trade that afternoon for anything. On the other hand, Mike took the boys out for a while on Sunday afternoon while I was at home by myself, last night I had a long, hot bath and tonight, Mike put the kids to bed.  I know that without a partner who cares and understands, I might be literally going crazy. I'm so thankful for his willingness to step in when I'm getting overwhelmed (this feeling, of course, is not unique to us introverted moms...but is common to moms of many personalities).

So, I will take my few moments, because I know that before too long, I won't feel quite so off-balance, or quite so desperate to be alone. Every little bit helps and if all I can get at the moment is small pieces of time, that's okay with me.  I know it will get better and I also know I don't want to miss the spontaneous moments with my kids.

What are you needing right now? Is there a way you can meet your needs without giving up something in other areas of your life?

A Family Day

This past weekend, we decided to take a break from our regular routine. We drove out to Batavia, IL and enjoyed some peace, quiet and time with each other outside.

The boys had fun playing at the Red Oak Nature Center.

Mason is not into having his picture taken right now, so I have to sneak them in.

We hiked to one of the few caves in Illinois.

We even crawled inside.

"Putsch!"

Mike took Mason to find a bathroom, so Max and I explored a while by ourselves.

"Oops."

He loves Canadian Geese.

A missing rock is a perfect place to stand.

A solo round of "ring around the rosie".

"I'm back, Mommy!"

Love.

Favorite activity: throwing rocks.

Traveling Mercies

I'm sitting at Sea-Tac (Seattle/Tacoma Airport), waiting for my flight to take me home to Chicago and home to my 3 boys.  I've had a wonderful visit and girl's weekend with my family in Washington. I am sitting by the window, relishing in my chance to travel alone with no kids (I've already finished one book), and also taking some time to reflect on how it's entirely possible that I could have come home to none of my family, or even to one or more of them in a hospital room. Here's the story:

I sent Mike a text once I arrived at my gate at Chicago Midway to let him know I'd made it through security and to my gate with no problems.  In a minute or so, he called me.  He told me how he had, just moments before, been awakened as he was driving our boys in the van up the side of an embankment off the freeway. He said the vehicle was tilted far to one side and had he not been able to turn it at that moment, that soon it likely would have rolled.  Somehow, he was able to navigate the van back down toward the road and swerving between construction barrels, enter back into traffic safely.  Whew!  This is where the scary part ends and the lighthearted parts can begin since everyone was fine.

First I must say that, I was still trying to absorb how this could all happen within 20 minutes of my hugging, kissing, and saying goodbye to my family at the curb. Obviously, I was immensely thankful that no one was hurt and that although I still had travel ahead of me, my boys, who are my life, were spared from whatever might have been. What a shock to me, though, as I thought I was the one who needed "traveling mercies".

So here's where my laughter came in to relieve the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

First, I thought of what it must have looked like to any other drivers on the freeway who noticed the illogical path of our van. It is not an SUV, or a Jeep, or a Monster Truck.  Any of those would have looked odd, but maybe not quite as ridiculous as a silver Honda minivan driving off the shoulder, up the embankment, turning, then playing obstacle-course through construction barrels, before entering traffic again like nothing had happened.  I suppose driving on the freeway gets boring so why not enjoy a little change of scenery, right?

Second, after Mike had safely returned the van to the freeway, Mason piped up in his extremely energetic tone, saying, "What was THAT?" I know exactly how he must have said it and I laugh every time I imagine what he must have been thinking as dad was off-roading in the van.  He probably also thought that although mom doesn't do that, driving with dad was way more fun!

I love the funny parts of the story only because my family was safe. Needless to say, I've prayed more than usual as I enter every leg of my journey away and back to home.  I'm praying that God will guide the pilots and crew in their decisions and thoughts, that He will send angels to guide our aircraft, and that He will lead us as we attempt to manipulate ourselves through the world He created. I am desperate to be reunited with the three people who mean everything to me, who, barring any other unexpected events, will be picking me up tonight in good health.

If you like, send up a prayer today for someone who is traveling, or might need an extra boost.  It DOES matter!

I'll share more stories and also some photos from my trip once I'm home.  Signing out from Seattle!

Fire Trucks and Trains

This past weekend, Hinsdale's Fire Department and Police Station had their annual open house.  We met up with some friends after church to let our boys enjoy it.  You name it, they had it. Here are some pictures of the fun.

I love fall in Chicago. Here are my boys walking to the car after church. Just a couple of blocks away is downtown Hinsdale where the event was held.

When we got to the open house, Max was thrilled about the free sherbet.

But he needed some help from Dad.

Mason checked out the armored vehicle.

Taking a break with Daddy.

Mason and I toured the police station and got to see the underground gunnery where the officers keep their shooting skills sharp.

Future paramedics?

This guy always loves a big fire truck.

My favorite little boys.

Little brother likes it too.

What a perfect day!

Monday, we went with Nicole and Ezra to Blackberry Farm.  You can ride the train as many times as you want.

Ezra seemed to really like it!

Self portrait of the moms!

For some reason, Mason kept asking to see a pig all day.  This was the closest he got.  And then he sat on it.

Waiting in line for the carousel.

A self-portrait that actually has all five of us in it!

Me and my busy little guys.

Mason really wanted to ride the zebra.

Max just wanted to ride with Mommy.

Tomorrow night, our friends Brandon and Maria (as well as their three kids, Mitchell, Blythe and Brynley) are arriving to stay with us for a long weekend.  We are SO excited! Yes, this is the "Maria" I mentioned in one of my previous posts who had lived here and moved to North Carolina last December (where Mark and Steph just moved to). Yay, for friends who love you enough to take time away from work and travel 13 hours in a car with small children! 

Happy Wednesday...