Kids Come Prefabricated

This morning, on the beach, Chloe and Brett created a hermit crab playpen in the sand.  Brett came and went bringing all sorts of critters to the hermit crab playground.  He carefully collected seaweed, checking it for marine life, and placed it gently in the playpen.

A young boy runs by and sees the creation.  He violently tramples the playpen and throws the seaweed in all directions.  Brett walks up just in time to see the horror and runs over to me, falls to his knees hiding his face in his hands, and begins to cry.  Not the fake whine that accompanies everything else in his life, but a heart wrenching cry as if his whole life's work had just been destroyed. And well, it had.

I took this opportunity to talk to him about talking through the situation.  I tell him to talk to the boy and ask why he was destroying his work.  Chloe comes over and sees the destruction and her brother crying and marches over to the child.  I tell her to ”call off the dogs” as I see the rage in her face.  she storms over to me as I'm telling Brett, ”When someone hurts your feelings...”  Chloe finishes my statement, ”...you punch them in the face.”  Uh, well, not quite.  I finally finish my statement, ” you need to use your words and talk it out.”   Chloe walks off and I'm not sure Brett really thinks my advice is worthwhile. 

I wanted to throw the kid in the ocean and say, ”Ooops!”  That wouldn't be using my words.  Luckily when he was flinging seaweed in all directions he threw some on a pregnant woman and the kid' s grandpa FINALLY intervened.  I'm sure all this kid really wanted was someone's attention.

When I dreamed of what my kids would be when they were born, I dreamed Chloe would be a beautiful dancer and cheerleader and Brett would be the football star.  Chloe is beautiful alright, but she loathes dance and cheer and prefers to read encyclopedias in her spare time.  Brett would rather be fishing...
These kids are prefabricated in the womb and they come out ready made. 

Sometimes they have eight fingers or nine toes.  They are not always what we imagined.  They don't always do what we want them to do even though we have taught then right from wrong, but our job is to love them no matter what obstacle arises.

I love every bit of them even though they aren't what I imagined they would be.  They are so much more than I ever dreamed.

Girl's Night Out

We spent the entire day out on the water snorkeling and swimming.  I'm exhausted, but not too tired for Girl's Night Out!  The line-up is hard to beat with a nine year old(my daughter), twin seven year olds and me.  I think I am probably the eight year old in the bunch.

We ordered appetizers, a meal and dessert, but those mini desserts that are eaten in three bites.  The girls were free to be silly, say anything, and taste EVERYTHING.  We laughed and they shared my dessert.  Somehow my dessert tastes better than their dessert?  Uh huh.

We climb in to the car catching a glimpse of the moon and waving to the moon.  It is a lovely moon.  I drive towards their house and take a few wrong turns and, at their suggestion, almost drive through a plaza.  ” uh, I apologize officer.  I did not see the plaza or the benches sitting in front of my face.  It was dark?”  I told them that would be the conversation and I was certain their mom would not let me take them out again if we called from jail.

We opened the sun roof and screamed lovlies to the moon.  ”Hello Moon!”  ” You are so bright tonight, Moon!”  ” You are the best Moonie Moonie!”  Two teenage boys on bikes ride by just in time for the screamfest.  They must've thought we wanted them to moon us!  I didn't turn around to check.  We are laughing so hard we nearly cry and their mom is waiting outside.  Oops, she heard the screams.

I wish this night would last forever.  Crazy girl fun is always so good for me.  I've attended about five Girl's Night Outs in all my life, but this one was, BY FAR, the best.  Good. Clean. Fun. 

The Losing Made It Real

This morning my friend treated me to a massage at the local spa.  I waited for the masseuse while sipping pink grapefruit & tarragon infused water.  The robes are so soft and for about five seconds I consider sticking it in my bag and taking it home. 

I'm on the table and my masseuse, Tiffany,  tells me I can choose to relax or to talk.  For all of you who know me, quiet isn't my specialty.  We talk about lots of things.  I ask if she knows the meaning of her name, she does not.  I finally ask if she has children.  She does not, but hopes to add a bundle to her joyful marriage. 

I recall what made us decide it was time to have kids.  I was newly pregnant.  We had been married two years and HAD NOT discussed having children.  I was sitting in a rehearsal when I began to have the most horrible pains of my life.  I was doubled over in agonizing pain, but managed to complete my rehearsal and get home.  I remember sitting by the toilet because I wanted to throw up.  The bleeding followed the pain.  I called my sister, the physician, and asked her if she thought I was having a miscarriage.  She was scared for me, but acted strong.  She talked me through what I might be feeling and what was happening to me.  She told me I needed to go to the hospital if the pain was such that I needed aid. 

I was sitting in the waiting room of the emergency room losing my first child.  I had a support system, but they couldn't save the baby.  Nothing could save the baby.

Losing that child made us positive we wanted children.  We wanted to succeed at making and delivering a healthy child the moment we lost that first baby.  I'm not sure I truly understood the gravity of parenthood, but I was going to do it no matter the obstacle.

During my massage, I learned that Tiffany had the exact same experience.  She recently miscarried an unplanned pregnancy and she and her husband decided it was indeed time to start a family.   My heart broke for her as I remembered those feelings, yet my heart was joyful to look in to the smiling faces of the two healthy children who followed.  I spoke encouragement in to her life with naked Brett stories and Chloe encyclopedia stories.

I hope she doesn't mind the subject of my blog today and just in case you are reading Tiffany, your name means ”the appearance of God.”  When I read the meaning of her name my eyes filled with tears.  Someday she will see God's true appearance when she looks in to the eyes of her healthy baby.....someday.

Vacation Memories

This morning, sitting on the white sand beaches watching my children create sand pools and  inhabit them with sea critters, I'm reminded of another beach vacation.  The summer of 2006 was filled with all sorts of memories both good and bad.  I was invited to return to the Miss Connecticut Scholarship Pageant and we were spending a week in Newport, Rhode Island like a Vanderbilt(but lower budget).  My dad was still struggling with all the ugliness associated with his cancer treatment and I was living life in a fog.

Brett was ten months old and I wished to look like I did in 1997, but the additional 70 lbs made it difficult for me to look like a pageant princess and the anti depressants made me not try.  My thyroid was like a roller coaster, my hormones were raging, I was still producing more milk than a dairy cow, and I didn't care.  Life was good.

I served as a judge for the pageant and had the best time catching up with my pageant family. The new girl was spunky and full of life.  I couldn't promise she would be manageable, but she would be memorable.  Come to think of it, I'm not sure I was all that manageable. 

Next came our 4th of July vacation in Newport, Rhode Island.  This beach community boasts some of the most grand and lavish displays of wealth in the form of ”summer homes.”  These homes are worth the Newport Mansions Tour, but I'm usually left wishing it was my house!  We stayed in a 4/2, three blocks from the beach instead of the 15/15 on the beach.

The trip was complete with blueberry and raspberry picking in the area and multiple beach visits.  Brett ate his weight in sand and Chloe frolicked in the waves, but the thing I most remember is how I bought a bottle of Port to help my food digest following our delicious dinners.  The problem:  Port +anti depressants= sleepy mommy.

I spent a large portion of my vacation asleep.  I missed out on the 4th of July fireworks and plenty other activities.  I often reflect on that vacation as a reminder of my ”lost days.”   For seven years I took anti depressants and for seven years I missed life.

I eventually found a doctor who was able to adjust my hormones and make me ”normal” again.   I was robbed of valuable time.  I am not telling you to quit taking your anti depressants or that you don't need them.  I will tell you if you feel like they are not the answer and you know something is wrong and anti depressants aren't fixing the problem; seek the advice of a doctor or two.  I credit much of my healing to my faith in God, but also to the doctor who determined the major hormonal discrepancies. 

As I sit on the beach this morning, reflecting on the ”lost days,” I'm so thankful to be present in this very moment.  This is where I sign off to join my daughter in the waves.  I don't want to miss out on life again.

A little advice:  If it feels broken it probably is broken.

Innocence Lost: The Comedy

Boerne, Texas is a quaint Hill Country spot with seldom more than cattle rustling and petty crime.  Although recently a local doctor, riding his cycle, was hit and killed.  A terrible series of events, but not premeditated.
I've lived in the area for about five years and traditionally most people leave their homes and cars unlocked.  Granted I live outside the city limits and if you are dumb enough to come gallivanting on my property, you are likely to be shot by my trusty ol' 12 gauge whom we've aptly names ”Ouch.”   [Can you whom a gun? Oh where is Kris Wickerham when I need him?]
My children do not encounter thievery and certainly wouldn't be able to identify a hoodlum.  It is possible they would be able to point out a prostitute, as they did go swimsuit shopping with me (see blog entry A Perfect 10).  Once Brett tried to steal something from the store that I refused to purchase for him and I know the event was memorable enough to avoid, at least until puberty.
I know, I know, LAND THE DARN PLANE....We stayed at the Embassy Suites off IH-10 in Baton Rouge.  Arriving tired and ready to swim.  Ok, the kids were ready to swim.  I grab my homework (Sophocles-The Three Theban Plays) and the kids.  We wait fifteen minutes for an elevator (slight exaggeration), arriving at the loudest pool in all of my life.  There are children running everywhere, deafening screams, and no pool towels. 
I ask the front desk for towels about 45 minutes later.  My kids decide the noise level at the pool is too distracting(no exaggeration).  Grabbing a towel we quickly exit to the elevator and wait fifteen minutes to ride up three floors.
This morning we are walking out to breakfast and realize their shoes were left at the pool last night.  Thadd heads to  the pool.  No SHOES.  The front desk also has no shoes.  The kids are sad, hurt, betrayed.  I'm furious, mostly at myself for forgetting to check their feet last night. I also forgot our electric toothbrush and my husband's cord to his electric razor.  I'm on a roll.
The kids ask questions about why someone would take their shoes.  My vigilante, Chloe, says she will fight to the death for her shoes.  Thadd says,” ... someone obviously needed them more than you...”  I nod my head in agreement with my husband, but I'm certain if I'd left my Sophocles book it would still be sitting on the table.
The lesson my kids learned today is people steal; not everyone is good and kind.  They also learned not to leave their chanclas (flip flops) at the pool.  I learned not to lend my flip flops to my daughter, EVER!  I'm sure by tomorrow I'll change my mind. Oh wait, she is wearing ANOTHER pair of my shoes.  Oh darn.
My deepest condolences go out to the Becker family who lost a wonderful and godly man.  May Dr. Becker's life be celebrated for the great legacy he leaves behind.

Road Trip

We are packed and driving our first fifteen miles when my husband says we should take 1604 (a loop) around the city.  WHAT?  No.   Just drive straight on IH-10!! 
After about twenty minutes of  ”discussing,” Chloe says, ” Can't we all just get along? I'm trying to negotiate peace here!”  Brett chimes in, ” If you talk less we will get there faster!” Thadd adds, ”Now I remember why I usually travel at night.”  I can tell this is going to be the best fifteen hours EVER! 

This morning my chickens were in celebration mode awaiting my departure.  Vacation for me means leftover food for them.  I dumped a bunch of fruit, bread, rice and veggies on the ground.  Large portions of the food barely touched the ground and instead filled the beaks of my feathered friends.  The chickens clucked with glee as they enjoyed every last morsel.  Buster, my Schnoodle, panted furiously waiting for an opportunity to get just a taste.  No luck.

I head to the barn and feed Charles, Augusta Belle, and Pip (the stars of the youtube sensation This Pony Gives Goat Rides).  Nothing is different for them and so they eat their food unnerved; not a care in the world.

I walk back up to the house and now have Buster, Scratchy, and Kitty Fluff following me.  This is a normal posse for feeding time.  Scratchy, still a kitten, loves to run between my legs.  Caliche + Kitten +Feet=Disaster.  This time I avoid disaster, but that is not always the case.  I try to avoid hurting the cat which hurts way worse as I fumble and slip and plop spread eagle on the ground.

I make it back to the house unharmed and pack the car.  Buster is sad.  He knows what suitcases mean and so he quietly watches, with his head on his paw.  I want to take him, but not this time.

We bid farewell to our friends who are staying at the house and thank them for their time.  We are off to Summer Vacation 2012.  Come to think of it, I think this is the first summer vacation Thadd has ever been able to join us.  I'm thankful to be with my family even if the combination of navigators is explosive. 

Beware travelers on IH-10 East as  The Scientist, The Extreme Fisherman, The Queen Bee, and The Boss are on the road today.

Naked Again!

I was driving down the expressway thinking about what to post and I started laughing out loud as I remembered all the times Brett was sneaky naked.  I'm sure you don't really want to hear stories about my naked son, but bear with me there is a point to the stories.  Maybe.

I have a thousand pictures of Brett naked-ish between the ages of fifteen months and four years.  These pictures weren't collected because I like naked photos, rather he was naked for this (very long) season of his life.  I recall (many) dinners when he was fully clothed and somewhere between his first and last bite he was BUTT NAKED!  Another fun time I was talking to mom in carpool line and my son, blonde at the time, has his clothing off and was peeing in the creek in front of the school.  I denied he was mine, I'm a brunette.  How did it happen and why?? Does it really matter?
I grew up in the city, but my dad's two favorite past times were hunting and golfing.  When you go hunting you often use the bathroom in the bushes.  When you have a son and live in the country, a tree is a bathroom.  So, I have a son that is naked and pees on random trees!  I am the reason men all around the world get arrested for urinating in public as drunk adults.  Ok, not me, but mom's like me.  There is no reason to be alarmed, such is life with a son and also my parenting style.  Like it or hate it.

Now for my point...nakedness is beautiful.  Authentic vulnerability is refreshing.  If we were more like Brett, naked in our lives and transparent in our relationships, we avoid all sorts of drama.  Next time you want to hide behind something or want to tell a ”little white lie” imagine Brett running naked through your mind.  Your words and actions are so important.  Someone is always watching and likely it is your child.  I often ask my daughter to describe me is a sentence.  Sometimes the things she says hurt, but it is a great opportunity to rewrite my future.

Live life large, but keep it simple and clean.  Be transparent and naked, but please do not pee on a tree.