Posts
Okay, so it has been over three months since my last post. I look at the link to my blog every day, and a familiar pit forms in my stomach. I can feel it right next to the pit that I get thinking about my childrens' unfinished scrapbooks, sitting in boxes in our basement. Well, I might have fallen off of the track, but I'm still on the train. I'm not giving up on this blog thing just yet.
In an attempt to ease my conscience, I'm going to do a quick re-cap of the last three months in a couple of posts ... just to keep things up to date, and give me a leg to stand on in the coming months. You'll suddenly be seeing posts that fill in the blanks from September through December. Luckily, Blogger is a kind and forgiving soul that gives me the option of past-dating things, so in a few short days, nobody will ever need to know about my absence. And then this exact post will probably vanish from sight. It's only here for all two of you reading my blog, just so you know what's happening.
2009 is going to be my year of creativity (or at least the year where I stick to something that I started) ... I can just feel it!
December 29, 2008
December 15, 2008
Visiting Santa, 2008
Today we took a family trip to the mall to knock out 3 things on our list of traditions ... you know, the ones that I feel obligated to do every year, because they're tradition.
1.Visit Santa.
2. Let each child pick out an ornament for the tree.
3. Let the kids "secretly" buy mommy a gift with daddy's help.
Number 3 has to be included during this particular visit to the mall, because it is the one and only time daddy will step foot in a mall during the Christmas season. Or the year, for that matter.
Our first stop was to see the Big Guy himself. St. Nick. Santa Claus. "Ho! Ho!" (as Jack calls him). We approached the Macy's wing of the mall, and what to our wondering eyes should appear? No line! Not a single soul waiting to see Santa! Surely this was our lucky night. Perfect timing! Mark and I smiled and gave each other a thumbs-up as we weaved the kids around the velvet maze that should have contained a throng of sweaty, crying kids and parents. We took off the kids' coats, pushed them forward, and said, "Go see Santa!"
Jenna obliged, sat on his lap, and began reminding him that she had visited him a week earlier with her class from school. She was earnestly trying to tell Santa what it was that she wanted for Christmas (a swimming baby and Hannah Montana guitar) but alas, Santa was distracted by the shreiking and wailing of our other two children. Santa suggested that maybe we come back another time, when they were feeling more comfortable. Mark and I nervously glanced around, and noticed another family in "line". We decided to remove our hollering children and let them go ahead of us. But no way were we going to leave this golden opportunity to see Santa with no lines involved.
We sat on the benches nearby, waving to Santa, saying nice things about him, reminding our two youngest children of the powers he has and his ability to make their dreams come true. Neither of them were having it.
When the family ahead of us left Santa's lap, Mark and I picked up the two terrified toddlers and headed back to the non-existent line. Once again, Jenna ran right up and started telling Santa how she brought her list. He suggested that she put it in his mailbox marked "North Pole" along with her brother's and sister's lists. She obliged. Jack and Kara held on to mommy and daddy for dear life.
Enough was enough. We were getting this picture taken with Santa one way or another. It was tradition. We were here. And we were determined to get it done.
In the end, we won! We got all three kids to sit in Santa's big chair, and not a tear was being shed. See for yourself ...
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(okay, so we had to actually sit in the photo with the kids ... but they got their picture taken with Santa, so we still won, right?!!)
October 25, 2008
Our Pumpkins
A view of our front porch pumkins, courtesy of Grandma Muehleck and Buck. They came to visit with a small pumpkin for each grandchild, and a bag full of permanent paint to decorate with. Thanks Grandma and Buck!
Our family artist, Buck, hand drew the faces on each pumpkin, and the kids got to paint in the faces. Since Jack was napping, Buck painted one for Jack too.
October 14, 2008
Pumpkin Picking
On our third and final "fall outing", our family went to a nearby farm to pick our own pumpkins. To our surprise, the "pumpkin patch" was actually a small family farm across the street from a private residence that sets up a whole shebang in their front yard each fall. We played on haybales, rode in a train, and then took a wagon across the road to pick our own pumpkins.
Kara was our wagon driver, hauling our loot from the patch to our van across the street.
Jack enjoyed trapsing around the patch and picking up any pumpkin that was small enough for him to carry. This time, it was a white one.
Jenna was on a quest to choose the largest pumpkin that she could carry. Even if it was a struggle.
Jenna and Kara were also sure to pick a few blossoms and vines to bring to their teachers at school. Both thought they would be the perfect addition to their classroom science tables.
All three kids enjoyed taking a "train" ride. The owner rigged up several plastic barrels as train cars, attached them to his riding tractor, and drove the kids around the front yard for an extended amount of time. Aside from the gas fumes from the tractor, nobody seemed to mind the make-shift train. It was hard to tell who enjoyed the ride more: the kids, or the operator.
Kara was our wagon driver, hauling our loot from the patch to our van across the street.
Jack enjoyed trapsing around the patch and picking up any pumpkin that was small enough for him to carry. This time, it was a white one.
Jenna was on a quest to choose the largest pumpkin that she could carry. Even if it was a struggle.
Jenna and Kara were also sure to pick a few blossoms and vines to bring to their teachers at school. Both thought they would be the perfect addition to their classroom science tables.
All three kids enjoyed taking a "train" ride. The owner rigged up several plastic barrels as train cars, attached them to his riding tractor, and drove the kids around the front yard for an extended amount of time. Aside from the gas fumes from the tractor, nobody seemed to mind the make-shift train. It was hard to tell who enjoyed the ride more: the kids, or the operator.
October 5, 2008
Fall Festival
On this fine fall day, Grandma and Pa Dorgan came down for a visit, and we headed to the Fall Festival in Bloomington at the Expo Center. We were blessed with another beautiful day, and more happy, fun-filled activities.
My favorite photos of the day were the posed ones ... in the wheels of a tractor parked on the grounds for kids to climb on. I also got some much needed, updated shots of me and the girls. ?They each have photo frames in their bedrooms for "mommy and me" pictures, and each of them is about 6 months old in the last photo that I framed!
Jenna tried her hand in rock climbing for the second time. The first time, at a summer festival, she was teary-eyed and trembling during the whole thing. This time, she managed to climb about half way up the rock on her own. Still not 100% confident, but willing to try . . . and that is all I could ask for!
Jenna tried her hand in rock climbing for the second time. The first time, at a summer festival, she was teary-eyed and trembling during the whole thing. This time, she managed to climb about half way up the rock on her own. Still not 100% confident, but willing to try . . . and that is all I could ask for!
September 29, 2008
September 2008
On a beautiful fall day, our family took a mini-roadtrip to Champaign, Illinois. We spent a few hours at Curtis Orchard picking apples and enjoying some fall activities. You couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day weather-wise, and the kids had a blast picking apples in the orchard.
Jenna used the apple plucker for better results, and Jack needed a boost from daddy to reach the apples.
Jenna was the only one brave enough to take a ride on the pony, but all three kids were willing to ham it up for a pose in the school bus.
September 24, 2008
Chess Stress
Okay Jenna, I'm going to let you in on a little secret here. Mommy doesn't know everything. Shocking, I know, but true. Case in point: chess. Never played it, never learned anything about it. Don't know even the basics of the game, or what the pieces are called.
Recently you decided that you would like to take part in your school's chess club. That's right, chess. For kindergartners. Daddy and I were amused at the idea and a bit curious, so today I attended the parent sign-up meeting with you after school.
At the meeting, we ran into our across-the-street neighbors who also have a daughter in the chess club. They assured me that the club was great, and you would get a great introduction to the game. I began wondering if I could possibly be a part of the club too, just to learn!
Once we got home, said neighbors came across the street with gifts to bear: an instructional book on how to play chess, written at a level that you (and possibly mommy) can understand . . . and an instructional chess board with the rows and columns labeled. (See, I've already forgotten the actual name for those rows and columns on a chess board.)
Anyway, once we got in the door, you settled right into the couch and began reading the chess manual. Reading it. Not looking at the pictures, but reading the instructions. When I finally convinced you to act your age and go play for a while, I began paging through the book. I learned the names of the pieces, where they go on the board, and what directions each can move. Simple enough. But each page gave me some more new terminology, new rules, and new pointers. Each page I turned erased in my mind what I had just read. No retention at all.
It reminds me of the time I went to a Craps lesson in Vegas. I'd always wanted to learn the game because that is where all of the hootin' and hollerin' take place in a casino. About 10 minutes into the lesson, I realized that there were more rules and exceptions to the game than my tiny little mind could contain. Suddenly the flashing lights and noises around me became distracting, and I found myself wandering away from the class towards the big spinning Wheel of Fortune game. I have the attention span of a gnat, you see.
Anyway, reading our new book, I learned words like "checkmate" and "mate" and "draw" and now (about 4 hours later) have no idea what they mean. I also can no longer recall the directions the pieces can move in or where they start on the board.
I'm going to be of no help to you at all. I keep telling you we can learn together, but in all honesty, I'm just going to drag you down. All I can hope for is that it all begins to make sense to me . . . when you teach me.
Wasn't I just teaching you how to play checkers?!
We're entering a whole new phase in your life. This will mark the beginning of the time you will look back on in years to come. You'll remember this as the first time you began to realize that mommy doesn't know everything, and it's all downhill from here. Just wait until you progress past 2nd grade math.
I'm stressed. About chess. Yep, total chess stress.
Recently you decided that you would like to take part in your school's chess club. That's right, chess. For kindergartners. Daddy and I were amused at the idea and a bit curious, so today I attended the parent sign-up meeting with you after school.
At the meeting, we ran into our across-the-street neighbors who also have a daughter in the chess club. They assured me that the club was great, and you would get a great introduction to the game. I began wondering if I could possibly be a part of the club too, just to learn!
Once we got home, said neighbors came across the street with gifts to bear: an instructional book on how to play chess, written at a level that you (and possibly mommy) can understand . . . and an instructional chess board with the rows and columns labeled. (See, I've already forgotten the actual name for those rows and columns on a chess board.)
Anyway, once we got in the door, you settled right into the couch and began reading the chess manual. Reading it. Not looking at the pictures, but reading the instructions. When I finally convinced you to act your age and go play for a while, I began paging through the book. I learned the names of the pieces, where they go on the board, and what directions each can move. Simple enough. But each page gave me some more new terminology, new rules, and new pointers. Each page I turned erased in my mind what I had just read. No retention at all.
It reminds me of the time I went to a Craps lesson in Vegas. I'd always wanted to learn the game because that is where all of the hootin' and hollerin' take place in a casino. About 10 minutes into the lesson, I realized that there were more rules and exceptions to the game than my tiny little mind could contain. Suddenly the flashing lights and noises around me became distracting, and I found myself wandering away from the class towards the big spinning Wheel of Fortune game. I have the attention span of a gnat, you see.
Anyway, reading our new book, I learned words like "checkmate" and "mate" and "draw" and now (about 4 hours later) have no idea what they mean. I also can no longer recall the directions the pieces can move in or where they start on the board.
I'm going to be of no help to you at all. I keep telling you we can learn together, but in all honesty, I'm just going to drag you down. All I can hope for is that it all begins to make sense to me . . . when you teach me.
Wasn't I just teaching you how to play checkers?!
We're entering a whole new phase in your life. This will mark the beginning of the time you will look back on in years to come. You'll remember this as the first time you began to realize that mommy doesn't know everything, and it's all downhill from here. Just wait until you progress past 2nd grade math.
I'm stressed. About chess. Yep, total chess stress.
September 23, 2008
"Creation", Kara's way . . .
To say that life with you is an adventure is an understatement. More like an adventure where I never know where I'm going, how I'm going to get there or how long it's going to take. Oh, and once I'm there, I never know how long I'll be staying, if at all!
Early this month, you started preschool. I was so proud of the way you handled those first days being dropped off at school. You didn't bat an eye when I said goodbye, and were all smiles at the end of the day. Well, at least the first day.
On day two you refused to eat a snack. Let me say that again: YOU refused. To EAT. A SNACK no less. I was mystified when your teacher reported this little fact to me at the end of class, but when I heard what the snack was, I was flabbergasted. Ice cream and cookies for your friend Kayla's birthday! Why on earth would you decide to rebel against a snack that normally would turn you into a ravenous little vulture? I mean, come on! I've seen you use your spoon like a razor blade to scrape every little last bit out of your ice cream bowl in the past! Your answer? Simple. "I wanted goldfish and juice like we had last time."
You know what you want. . . and now you're going to learn a tough life lesson: you don't ALWAYS get what you want little girl!
On day three you refused to paint on the easel. That's right, you, the girl who asks to paint at home on an almost daily basis, refused to paint. When all of your classmates came running out the door with their paintings in hand, you came out last with your teacher by your side. When she told me that you decided not to paint, I curiously asked why. Simple. "I wanted to do Play dough".
I'm beginning to sense a pattern here! I repeat: You don't ALWAYS get what you want little girl!
On day four and day five, you began the day with tearful goodbyes for mommy. Crying, screaming, and begging me not to leave. Running out the door after me, chasing me down the hallway. My heart was breaking, and I was about to declare you a preschool drop-out. But on day six, drop off went smoothly. When I dropped you off you said, "bye bye mommy!" in the sweetest little voice. When you chased me to the door, it was only to remind me that I forgot to give you a hug. Skeptical, I left. I kept my cell phone in my pocket, just waiting for your school to call me back. They didn't. When I went to pick you up, you came out of class last and again, your teacher was by your side. With a great big smile I greeted you and told you how proud I was of you. I looked up at your teacher for confirmation that this had indeed been a good day. It was then that she told me that you refused to pose for school pictures. Why? "Because I didn't want to do it."
So, on the sixth day, she got what she wanted.
Today was day seven . . . no news or issues to report. Apparently you also rest on the seventh day.
Early this month, you started preschool. I was so proud of the way you handled those first days being dropped off at school. You didn't bat an eye when I said goodbye, and were all smiles at the end of the day. Well, at least the first day.
On day two you refused to eat a snack. Let me say that again: YOU refused. To EAT. A SNACK no less. I was mystified when your teacher reported this little fact to me at the end of class, but when I heard what the snack was, I was flabbergasted. Ice cream and cookies for your friend Kayla's birthday! Why on earth would you decide to rebel against a snack that normally would turn you into a ravenous little vulture? I mean, come on! I've seen you use your spoon like a razor blade to scrape every little last bit out of your ice cream bowl in the past! Your answer? Simple. "I wanted goldfish and juice like we had last time."
You know what you want. . . and now you're going to learn a tough life lesson: you don't ALWAYS get what you want little girl!
On day three you refused to paint on the easel. That's right, you, the girl who asks to paint at home on an almost daily basis, refused to paint. When all of your classmates came running out the door with their paintings in hand, you came out last with your teacher by your side. When she told me that you decided not to paint, I curiously asked why. Simple. "I wanted to do Play dough".
I'm beginning to sense a pattern here! I repeat: You don't ALWAYS get what you want little girl!
On day four and day five, you began the day with tearful goodbyes for mommy. Crying, screaming, and begging me not to leave. Running out the door after me, chasing me down the hallway. My heart was breaking, and I was about to declare you a preschool drop-out. But on day six, drop off went smoothly. When I dropped you off you said, "bye bye mommy!" in the sweetest little voice. When you chased me to the door, it was only to remind me that I forgot to give you a hug. Skeptical, I left. I kept my cell phone in my pocket, just waiting for your school to call me back. They didn't. When I went to pick you up, you came out of class last and again, your teacher was by your side. With a great big smile I greeted you and told you how proud I was of you. I looked up at your teacher for confirmation that this had indeed been a good day. It was then that she told me that you refused to pose for school pictures. Why? "Because I didn't want to do it."
So, on the sixth day, she got what she wanted.
Today was day seven . . . no news or issues to report. Apparently you also rest on the seventh day.
September 8, 2008
Word Search
My baby boy is now 17 months old! Let me just say my obligatory "where has the time gone?" phrase right now. Seriously. I've been down this road three times now, so you'd think I'd no longer be surprised at how fast it goes . . . but silly me, I'm still surprised!
Along with this age comes one of my favorite developmental stages. No, not the ability to climb and leap off of objects both living and non-living. Language development! Maybe it's my background in speech and language or early childhood, but I continue to be amazed at language acquisition at this age. Again, I've been down this road three times, but I'm still surprised!
Jenna was talking by age one, and by a year and a half was communicating in full sentences. Kara was about the same. Very advanced in their language skills, and very proficient at amazing strangers in the grocery store when their tiny little bodies would produce full sentences like, "Mommy, are we done shopping now? Is it time to go home?".
Jack is more of a traditionalist. He's sticking to the expected parameters of language development . . . a few beginning words around age one, a few more real words by one and a half. I have to keep reminding myself that he is on track for normal development, just not as chatty as his big sisters.
A sampling of the sounds/phrases/words in his current repertoire:
mama
dada
gama (grandma)
Pa
yes
uh-uh (no)
bye-bye
uh-oh
oh-no
nigh-nigh (night-night)
down
bup (cup)
boop (book)
woof (dog)
animal noises: baaaa, moo, quack, roar, oink (snort), neigh, woof, meow
Along with this age comes one of my favorite developmental stages. No, not the ability to climb and leap off of objects both living and non-living. Language development! Maybe it's my background in speech and language or early childhood, but I continue to be amazed at language acquisition at this age. Again, I've been down this road three times, but I'm still surprised!
Jenna was talking by age one, and by a year and a half was communicating in full sentences. Kara was about the same. Very advanced in their language skills, and very proficient at amazing strangers in the grocery store when their tiny little bodies would produce full sentences like, "Mommy, are we done shopping now? Is it time to go home?".
Jack is more of a traditionalist. He's sticking to the expected parameters of language development . . . a few beginning words around age one, a few more real words by one and a half. I have to keep reminding myself that he is on track for normal development, just not as chatty as his big sisters.
A sampling of the sounds/phrases/words in his current repertoire:
mama
dada
gama (grandma)
Pa
yes
uh-uh (no)
bye-bye
uh-oh
oh-no
nigh-nigh (night-night)
down
bup (cup)
boop (book)
woof (dog)
animal noises: baaaa, moo, quack, roar, oink (snort), neigh, woof, meow
September 3, 2008
A Midsummer Night's Dream
Last night, at about 3 a.m., I was awoken by Jenna repeating, "mom, mom, mom, mom" urgently in my ear and tapping me on the arm.
When I came to and asked her what was going on, I noticed that her lower lip was quivering. She told me that she had a bad dream about Kara going to jail.
I got up, walked her into the bathroom, and asked what the dream was about.
In a teary voice, Jenna said:
"Kara was at school with me. In my class. Only Mrs. Z wasn't there. It was a guest teacher. And Kara was being really, really loud, so the teacher called the police. They took Kara to jail."
I hid my smile as I assured her that Kara was alive and well, sleeping in the next room. It was just a bad dream. Or is the word premonition?
When I came to and asked her what was going on, I noticed that her lower lip was quivering. She told me that she had a bad dream about Kara going to jail.
I got up, walked her into the bathroom, and asked what the dream was about.
In a teary voice, Jenna said:
"Kara was at school with me. In my class. Only Mrs. Z wasn't there. It was a guest teacher. And Kara was being really, really loud, so the teacher called the police. They took Kara to jail."
I hid my smile as I assured her that Kara was alive and well, sleeping in the next room. It was just a bad dream. Or is the word premonition?
September 2, 2008
To My Baby Girl, On Her First Day of Preschool
My dearest Kara,
Today my baby girl became a big girl . . . you started preschool!
We've talked about it for so long, you've been looking forward to making your own friends, and today was the day.
You woke up excited, counted down the minutes until it was time to leave, and even let me take a few pictures of you (which is a big deal because, usually, you hate being in pictures).
You wore a pretty pink dress and your new white sandals, and a smile from ear-to-ear.
I have to admit, I was nervous about how the drop-off would go. I worried that you might cry, or hang on mommy's leg and beg me not to leave. But you didn't! You walked into that room, put on your name tag, washed your hands, and disappeared into the crowd without so much as a goodbye kiss for mommy.
I stood in the classroom for a couple of minutes, just watching you. You were already interacting with the other kids and teachers in the dress-up corner, and didn't even take a peek back to see if I was still there. I took a few more photos of you in action.
I stood at the doorway for a minute, just in case you needed me. You didn't.
I left but stuck around outside, peeking in your window from time-to-time to make sure you weren't crying or sad or afraid. You weren't. During my first peek, you were busy gluing and pasting your little heart out. My second peek let me see you enjoying your snack.
In so many ways you are so very different from your big sister. I've worried and cried on Jenna's first day of everything in her life. Today, I didn't shed a tear. It's not because I've been through it all before or because I'm not sad to see you growing up . . . it's because I know that you're a tough little cookie, and you'll be okay.
I'm so very proud of what a big girl you were on your first day of school. I just know that preschool is going to be great for you. You're going to learn so many new things, meet so many new friends, and get to be a part of something that is just for you . . . not Jenna or Jack!
But, you want to know what else is just for you? Mommy's love. I might love your sister and brother too, but I never, ever share that special love in my heart that is just for you baby girl.
Lots of love,
Mommy
Today my baby girl became a big girl . . . you started preschool!
We've talked about it for so long, you've been looking forward to making your own friends, and today was the day.
You woke up excited, counted down the minutes until it was time to leave, and even let me take a few pictures of you (which is a big deal because, usually, you hate being in pictures).
You wore a pretty pink dress and your new white sandals, and a smile from ear-to-ear.
I have to admit, I was nervous about how the drop-off would go. I worried that you might cry, or hang on mommy's leg and beg me not to leave. But you didn't! You walked into that room, put on your name tag, washed your hands, and disappeared into the crowd without so much as a goodbye kiss for mommy.
I stood in the classroom for a couple of minutes, just watching you. You were already interacting with the other kids and teachers in the dress-up corner, and didn't even take a peek back to see if I was still there. I took a few more photos of you in action.
I stood at the doorway for a minute, just in case you needed me. You didn't.
I left but stuck around outside, peeking in your window from time-to-time to make sure you weren't crying or sad or afraid. You weren't. During my first peek, you were busy gluing and pasting your little heart out. My second peek let me see you enjoying your snack.
In so many ways you are so very different from your big sister. I've worried and cried on Jenna's first day of everything in her life. Today, I didn't shed a tear. It's not because I've been through it all before or because I'm not sad to see you growing up . . . it's because I know that you're a tough little cookie, and you'll be okay.
I'm so very proud of what a big girl you were on your first day of school. I just know that preschool is going to be great for you. You're going to learn so many new things, meet so many new friends, and get to be a part of something that is just for you . . . not Jenna or Jack!
But, you want to know what else is just for you? Mommy's love. I might love your sister and brother too, but I never, ever share that special love in my heart that is just for you baby girl.
Lots of love,
Mommy
August 25, 2008
I Want You To Be The First To Know
My dear baby Jack,
This week, after a lot of soul-searching and honest conversation, mommy and daddy have decided that it's time for me to go back to work. It's going to be a process, and it's not going to happen tomorrow, but the idea is officially on the table. I just wanted you to be the first to know.
I knew this day would come eventually. Mommy has been blessed to be able to stay at home with you and your sisters for this long. I knew that it would one day come to an end, but I didn't know it would hurt this much. I haven't even started applying for jobs yet, but already my mind is racing forward and I'm envisioning the day I have to bring you to daycare and kiss your sweet face goodbye.
This week we sent Jenna off to kindergarten, and I felt like I could finally look at her and say that I'm a good mom. Finally, for the first time in five years. I realized that I must be to have created and raised a child as good as her. I was able to be at home with her for the last three years, and I'm so thankful for that! Then there's Kara. Mommy has been at home with her ever since the day she was born. She might grow up and feel slighted as my "middle child", but I will always tell her that mommy got to spend the most time at home with her when she was a child. The first three years of a child's life are so important. I got to be there for all of Kara's.
Now I look at you, and I don't know how I can do it. How can I short you on these quality years of having mama at home with you? How can I trust someone enough to do the job that I'm not even sure I trust myself doing? You are precious, sweet, funny and so full of life. You're smart, happy, and so full of personality. I guess I'm just feeling badly because of all that I'm going to miss out on by not spending another 18 months at home with you.
You're my last baby. My youngest. My little boy. I intended to spend days with you all to myself once your sisters were both gone to school. I was going to spoil you rotten, shower you with undivided attention, and give you some special time alone with just mommy and you. I was going to sign you up for classes, take you all kinds of places, and teach you all kinds of wonderful things. When I do go back to work, I might not have as many hours to do those things anymore, but I'm still going to do them. I might have to go back to work, but I'm never going to stop working on being your mommy. You are my first and most important job. I'll never forget that.
I'll also never forget how lucky I have been to be at home with you for your first 16 months of life. All that I've been around to witness, all that I've been able to do to help you grow and learn new things every day. This time with you has been such a miracle, such a gift.
I'm going to go now, so I can sneak up to your bedroom and watch you sleep. It's not going to happen tomorrow, but I'm officially going back to work. Sometime soon. And before that day comes, I'm going to soak in as much of you as I can.
All of my love,
Mama
This week, after a lot of soul-searching and honest conversation, mommy and daddy have decided that it's time for me to go back to work. It's going to be a process, and it's not going to happen tomorrow, but the idea is officially on the table. I just wanted you to be the first to know.
I knew this day would come eventually. Mommy has been blessed to be able to stay at home with you and your sisters for this long. I knew that it would one day come to an end, but I didn't know it would hurt this much. I haven't even started applying for jobs yet, but already my mind is racing forward and I'm envisioning the day I have to bring you to daycare and kiss your sweet face goodbye.
This week we sent Jenna off to kindergarten, and I felt like I could finally look at her and say that I'm a good mom. Finally, for the first time in five years. I realized that I must be to have created and raised a child as good as her. I was able to be at home with her for the last three years, and I'm so thankful for that! Then there's Kara. Mommy has been at home with her ever since the day she was born. She might grow up and feel slighted as my "middle child", but I will always tell her that mommy got to spend the most time at home with her when she was a child. The first three years of a child's life are so important. I got to be there for all of Kara's.
Now I look at you, and I don't know how I can do it. How can I short you on these quality years of having mama at home with you? How can I trust someone enough to do the job that I'm not even sure I trust myself doing? You are precious, sweet, funny and so full of life. You're smart, happy, and so full of personality. I guess I'm just feeling badly because of all that I'm going to miss out on by not spending another 18 months at home with you.
You're my last baby. My youngest. My little boy. I intended to spend days with you all to myself once your sisters were both gone to school. I was going to spoil you rotten, shower you with undivided attention, and give you some special time alone with just mommy and you. I was going to sign you up for classes, take you all kinds of places, and teach you all kinds of wonderful things. When I do go back to work, I might not have as many hours to do those things anymore, but I'm still going to do them. I might have to go back to work, but I'm never going to stop working on being your mommy. You are my first and most important job. I'll never forget that.
I'll also never forget how lucky I have been to be at home with you for your first 16 months of life. All that I've been around to witness, all that I've been able to do to help you grow and learn new things every day. This time with you has been such a miracle, such a gift.
I'm going to go now, so I can sneak up to your bedroom and watch you sleep. It's not going to happen tomorrow, but I'm officially going back to work. Sometime soon. And before that day comes, I'm going to soak in as much of you as I can.
All of my love,
Mama
August 23, 2008
To My Daughter, On Her First Week of Kindergarten
My dearest Jenna,
Well, we survived the first week of kindergarten. Mommy was a nervous wreck, but you were amazing. Your excitement and enthusiasm, once again, over-rode your nervousness. We were able to go to your open house day together, and meet your teacher and see your classroom. While we were there I caught glimpses of the shy, quiet girl that you have always been. But I also saw another side of you beginning to emerge. Your many pre-school experiences have given you a certain wisdom of what school is, what to expect, and what things mean. You've already achieved many of the academic skills that will be worked on during this first year of school, but it's obvious that the social interaction and time with kids your own age will be of great value to you. You're a social girl. You love other kids, and I'm sure that you'll be making many, many new friends in kindergarten.
Well, we survived the first week of kindergarten. Mommy was a nervous wreck, but you were amazing. Your excitement and enthusiasm, once again, over-rode your nervousness. We were able to go to your open house day together, and meet your teacher and see your classroom. While we were there I caught glimpses of the shy, quiet girl that you have always been. But I also saw another side of you beginning to emerge. Your many pre-school experiences have given you a certain wisdom of what school is, what to expect, and what things mean. You've already achieved many of the academic skills that will be worked on during this first year of school, but it's obvious that the social interaction and time with kids your own age will be of great value to you. You're a social girl. You love other kids, and I'm sure that you'll be making many, many new friends in kindergarten.
The first few days of you being gone from home during the day have been strange. Although you're the quietest and most mild-mannered of my children, the house was strangely quiet without you around. I guess it's going to take some time for all of us to get used to this new stage in all of our lives. Kara and Jack will be learning to play together more, and mommy will be getting used to doing without all of the help and companionship you have always offered me during the day.
As worried as I was about you riding the bus to school, you once again amazed me. I could hardly believe that the same little girl that cried about riding a bus on a field trip without me last year was so excited and brave about riding the bus to school this week. You met some little girls in the neighborhood on the bus stop the first morning, and held their hands and hopped on the bus with them without so much as a glance back at me. It's probably a good thing because you weren't able to see the tears welling up in my eyes.
It is with great sadness that I watch you begin your journey in school . . . your journey into becoming a "big kid" . . . your journey into independence. My heart hurts to think that your baby days are over, and I'm going to be spending more and more time watching you go about your life and not needing my help. You don't need me to drive you to school anymore, you don't need me to hold your hand as you enter the school each day. You're starting to roll your eyes at me, call me "moooooommmm" in an exasperated, "big kid" way that I'm not ready to hear. You're already evasive when I ask you about your day at school, and you've already corrected me on more than one occasion and told me that your teacher said it was okay. Sigh.
I think I've finally put my finger on the pulse of my sadness. I've figured out why this is such a difficult milestone for me to watch you achieve. It's because for the first time in your life, I'm giving up some of my control over the things you do, the people you're with, and the things you're learning. I'm putting your precious, delicate mind and body into the protection and care of other people that I don't even really know. I'm facing the test that all parents face at this point in their children's lives. I'm needing to have confidence in the fact that I've raised you right and you are ready to go into the world and make good choices, be a good person, and value the opportunities of education. I've had to allow myself to say, for the first time in 5 years, that I'm a good mother. I've been a good mother to you. I've given you all that a mommy could give, and I have no regrets about the way we've raised you.
I'm proud of you. I love you. I think the world of you. And now the world gets to meet you too. They're gonna love you!
All my love,
Mommy
August 18, 2008
100 Things About Me
Now, keep in mind that the main purpose of this Blog is recording history for my children. I'm sure that 99.9% of you out there could give a hoot less about this compilation of facts about me. Move along then. Don't feel compelled to read it. While I feel silly about writing such a self-centered post on my blog, I do feel that it will one day (far, far in the future) be worthwhile reading for my children. A way for them to get some insight on who their mom is . . . at least who she was back in 2008. I wish I had a similar recorded history of my mom or grandmother. How cool would that be, to be able to compare my adult life to theirs? Their feelings at age 35 to my own? Anyway, without further ado . . .
100 Things About Me
THE PHYSICAL ME
1. I'm 5' 1-1/2" tall. Yes, I always do include that 1/2" , if people ask. I'm not as exact with my weight. Let's just say I'm over 100lbs., and leave it at that.
2. I have really dark brown hair, naturally . . . despite the fact that I was very blond as a child. Now I pay about $80 every three months to add a touch of blond to my hair. It hides the gray that is starting to appear.
3. I have just about the worst looking feet and hands you can imagine.
4. I have brown eyes like both of my parents but, unlike my parents, my vision is perfect.
5. I'm right-handed.
6. I had my gallbladder removed in 2006, so I have four tiny scars on my abdomen from the procedure.
7. I have a freckle in my ear that people always think is dirt or something else.
8. I have two vaccination marks on my left shoulder, but have no idea why I had that vaccination twice.
9. I still have a scar from the place where my first chickenpox emerged. I scratched it until it bled before I knew what it was.
10. The sagging skin on my belly and hideous veins on my legs appeared between 2002 and 2007, a.k.a. the five years that I spent pregnant and/or nursing my babies.
FAMILY STUFF
11. I am the oldest of two children. I have a brother Dan that is 3 years and 10 months younger than me.
12. My mom and dad also have only one brother each, although they are both the youngest.
13. My paternal grandparents, "Papa Bud" and "Grandma Dorothy" were both deaf; one was born deaf, the other lost hearing from scarlet fever as an infant.
14. My maternal grandparents, "Grandma and Grandpa Lenon", adopted my mom and uncle from Catholic Charities as infants.
15. I met my husband on a blind date . . . we were set up by his mother, who was my co-worker at the time.
16. I had three distinct types of labor and delivery with my children: the first was "too slow" (Jenna's took 14 hours), the second was "too fast" (almost gave birth to Kara in the hospital waiting room, WITHOUT an EPIDURAL, I might add), the last was "just right" (Jack came after I was in the hospital for about 2 hours and about 20 minutes after the epidural).
17. Jenna's middle name, Margaret, is after my Grandma Lenon.
18. Kara Lynn's name is in honor of Mark's mom, Carolyn.
19. Jack's given name is John Philip, after three of our grandfathers who were named John, and Marks' grandfather Philip.
20. I came from a small family and love being a part of the larger family that I married into.
HOBBIES AND STUFF
21. Although I don't find much time these days, I love to read.
22. I used to be really into scrapbooking, but just can't find the time to keep up with it these days.
23. I love to watch movies, both at a movie theater and at home.
24. I would someday love to learn to do something creative: painting, pottery, sewing
25. Although I'm new at it, I consider writing a hobby of mine as of late.
26. I like to spend time alone. Whether it's reading, walking, shopping, or just lounging, sometimes I just need some down time.
27. Speaking of down time, I love to nap! Mark can hardly force himself to sleep during the day. Me? I could close my eyes and fall asleep practically any time, anywhere! Closing the shades and laying in my bed for a daytime nap is a real treat for me. I get it from my dad.
28. Despite what Mark's family might think, I actually like to play games. Only I'm not good at them, and the competitive nature of games makes me nervous. But, I like trivia games, word games like Scrabble and crossword puzzles. I know, I'm a nerd.
29. I like television. I'm not a t.v. junkie, but there are a few shows out there that interest me, from sitcoms to dramas to documentaries to cooking shows to reality t.v. to news programs. There's not a whole lot on network television that interests me, but I can usually find something on cable worth watching.
30. I like shopping, especially for decorative things. Most of the time I'm just browsing, but I love to look at home decor, furniture, linens, wall hangings, pottery, holiday decorations, etc.
STUFF I HATE
31. Tuna.
32. Racism, intolerance and ignorance.
33. Too much commotion, noise, disorder.
34. Really hot weather and really cold weather.
35. Storms. I'm very, very afraid of storms that pack lightening, wind and/or tornado warnings.
36. Living away from my family and friends.
37. Dog hair/cat hair . . . any shedding animal hair on my carpet, clothing, car, etc. Drives me crazy!
38. Heights. I wasn't always afraid of them, but I am now.
39. Flying. Same as above. Never minded it as a child, but have grown fearful over my lifetime.
40. Confrontation. I rarely stand up for myself, argue with others, or voice my complaints.
I BELIEVE
41. in God.
42. that all things happen for a reason.
43. in always following your gut.
44. that there is good in everyone, but nobody is perfect
45. that you should never stop learning.
46. in miracles.
47. family matters most.
48. I'm a good mom.
49. my children are my greatest responsibility and a true gift from God
50. in volunteering and sharing my gifts and talents where they can be used
I WISH
51. my grandparents lived long enough to see me get married and meet my children.
52. that I never started smoking.
53. money wasn't a concern
54. I lived closer to my family and friends.
55. my kids will grow up healthy and happy and strong.
56. my marriage will last forever.
57. I tried harder in college.
58. that I would have made exercise a habit early in my life
59. that I would have lived on my own and traveled more before I got married and started a family.
60. I had a closer relationship with my brother.
I'VE NEVER
61. interviewed for a job I didn't get.
62. been to Europe.
63. done drugs.
64. lived by myself.
65. gotten a tattoo
66. broken a bone.
67. been skydiving, hot air ballooning, or anything else that requires being high above the ground -- except para-sailing
68. been in a fist-fight
69. been arrested (I was "picked up" for underage drinking once as a teenager, but not technically booked)
70.
CAREER AND EDUCATION
71. I went to Catholic school from kindergarten through high school and wore uniforms to school every day.
72. I graduated from NIU in four years, despite failing and having to re-take a few classes and changing my major from physical therapy to speech pathology
73. I applied to about 10 graduate schools for two years and was never accepted into a speech pathology program.
74. I went to night school and got my masters degree in Early Childhood Education.
75. I always had a job from the time I was 15 until I became a stay-at-home mom at age 31.
76. I've worked at an ice cream shop, doctor's office, realtor, health center, special education cooperative, university and elementary school. I've also shown model homes, tutored, babysat and worked at a meal preparation chain.
77. I was hired for a job as a waitress, went to the training and orientation, and was never called to work there. That was almost ten years ago. To this day, when I drive by the restaurant I always say, "wait, let me run in and see if I'm on the schedule for this week." Still cracks me up. Darn 'Leona's'!
78. After graduate school, I went on to work for the university in a grant program created by one of my professors.
79. I've been lucky enough to work with some amazing people in every job I've ever had. There's at least one person from each place that had a major impact on my life, and I keep in touch with people from just about every place I have ever worked or gone to school.
80. As a student, I was always excellent at standardized tests. I always scored in the upper 90th percentile in grade school achievement tests. . . did so well on high school entrance exams that I landed in honors classes . . . scored pretty well on my ACTs and GREs. Ironically, I'm a much better test-taker than I am a student. A very rare reversal of what is normally the case when people don't test well.
KID STUFF
81. My mom was a stay-at-home mom until we were in school, and then she worked at our grammar school.
82. We went on a vacation every year that I can remember. Sometimes it was a short trip to somewhere in the Midwest, sometimes it was a big trip to a place like Disney or Canada or California.
83. I always had my own room and can still remember the pink walls and red carpeting of my childhood.
84. My happiest memories of childhood are the holidays I spent with my aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents, and all of the time I spent at my grandparents' houses -- having sleep-overs, playing at their houses, and having Sunday dinners with the whole family.
85. I lived in the same house from the time I was two months old until the day I got married (well, except for college and a brief stint living in an apartment after college). My parents still live there today, and I love that my kids have the chance to grow up with that house as well.
86. I met friends in kindergarten that I still have to this day.
87. I spent a lot of time at the public library -- checking out books, taking classes, and participating in reading programs. My love for reading was fostered from an early age.
88. I can still recall the magic of Christmas time, and the tradition that came with it: decorations, midnight mass, lifesavers and calendars from grandma, the wonder of seeing the gifts that Santa left under the tree, driving home late at night from my aunt and uncle's house with my grandma and grandpa in the back seat of our car, listening to Christmas music on the radio.
89. My dad came home from work every evening at 4:20pm, and I was usually laying on the floor watching the Brady Bunch on t.v. while my mom made dinner in the kitchen. I can vividly recall the rough, green shag carpet on the floor, the gold couch pillow I was laying on, the darkness that would be falling over the room as the sun set during the winter months. Cozy!
90. I remember the happy times of playing with neighbors outside all day long. . .attending friends' birthday parties at McDonald's, Farrel's, Zips, Ground Round, the roller rink and in their homes. . . having "best friends" that would change from year to year (Colleen L., Stacy S., Gina F., Michelle E., Audra D., Julie H., Kristen A. and Kristen G.). I also remember the sad times like being ditched by friends that I thought were coming over so that I could go trick-or-treating with them after school (yes, that's you Kristen A. and Kristen G., if you ever read this! But I forgive you and love you now.)
MORE ME
91. I'm impatient, moody, sarcastic, and honest. I have a hard time admitting when I'm wrong.
92. I'm always willing to help a friend.
93. I'm not a perfect wife, by any means, but I'm faithful, dependable, honest, and trusting.
94. I cry easily. When I'm angry, sad, frustrated, happy or hurt, the tears just flow.
95. I start a lot of things that I never finish, and tend to procrastinate a lot.
96. I'm very organized and a bit anal. This might not be reflected in my day-to-day life, but if something is unclean, unorganized or out of place, it bothers me.
97. I'm sensitive. I take things to heart, don't easily forget insults, don't handle criticism well.
98. There are very, very few people that I don't get along with. I'm pretty good at adapting to new people and places and can talk to most anyone.
99. I don't like to brag about myself, so let me also disclose that I bite my nails, I swallow my gum, and have an annoying tone to my voice. I also sweat way more than the average woman, stink at sports, and am clumsy and uncoordinated. I love to sing, but am a horrible singer. I'm a mediocre cook and horrible at baking. There, that feels better.
100. At the age of 35, I still don't know what I want to be when I "grow up".
100 Things About Me
THE PHYSICAL ME
1. I'm 5' 1-1/2" tall. Yes, I always do include that 1/2" , if people ask. I'm not as exact with my weight. Let's just say I'm over 100lbs., and leave it at that.
2. I have really dark brown hair, naturally . . . despite the fact that I was very blond as a child. Now I pay about $80 every three months to add a touch of blond to my hair. It hides the gray that is starting to appear.
3. I have just about the worst looking feet and hands you can imagine.
4. I have brown eyes like both of my parents but, unlike my parents, my vision is perfect.
5. I'm right-handed.
6. I had my gallbladder removed in 2006, so I have four tiny scars on my abdomen from the procedure.
7. I have a freckle in my ear that people always think is dirt or something else.
8. I have two vaccination marks on my left shoulder, but have no idea why I had that vaccination twice.
9. I still have a scar from the place where my first chickenpox emerged. I scratched it until it bled before I knew what it was.
10. The sagging skin on my belly and hideous veins on my legs appeared between 2002 and 2007, a.k.a. the five years that I spent pregnant and/or nursing my babies.
FAMILY STUFF
11. I am the oldest of two children. I have a brother Dan that is 3 years and 10 months younger than me.
12. My mom and dad also have only one brother each, although they are both the youngest.
13. My paternal grandparents, "Papa Bud" and "Grandma Dorothy" were both deaf; one was born deaf, the other lost hearing from scarlet fever as an infant.
14. My maternal grandparents, "Grandma and Grandpa Lenon", adopted my mom and uncle from Catholic Charities as infants.
15. I met my husband on a blind date . . . we were set up by his mother, who was my co-worker at the time.
16. I had three distinct types of labor and delivery with my children: the first was "too slow" (Jenna's took 14 hours), the second was "too fast" (almost gave birth to Kara in the hospital waiting room, WITHOUT an EPIDURAL, I might add), the last was "just right" (Jack came after I was in the hospital for about 2 hours and about 20 minutes after the epidural).
17. Jenna's middle name, Margaret, is after my Grandma Lenon.
18. Kara Lynn's name is in honor of Mark's mom, Carolyn.
19. Jack's given name is John Philip, after three of our grandfathers who were named John, and Marks' grandfather Philip.
20. I came from a small family and love being a part of the larger family that I married into.
HOBBIES AND STUFF
21. Although I don't find much time these days, I love to read.
22. I used to be really into scrapbooking, but just can't find the time to keep up with it these days.
23. I love to watch movies, both at a movie theater and at home.
24. I would someday love to learn to do something creative: painting, pottery, sewing
25. Although I'm new at it, I consider writing a hobby of mine as of late.
26. I like to spend time alone. Whether it's reading, walking, shopping, or just lounging, sometimes I just need some down time.
27. Speaking of down time, I love to nap! Mark can hardly force himself to sleep during the day. Me? I could close my eyes and fall asleep practically any time, anywhere! Closing the shades and laying in my bed for a daytime nap is a real treat for me. I get it from my dad.
28. Despite what Mark's family might think, I actually like to play games. Only I'm not good at them, and the competitive nature of games makes me nervous. But, I like trivia games, word games like Scrabble and crossword puzzles. I know, I'm a nerd.
29. I like television. I'm not a t.v. junkie, but there are a few shows out there that interest me, from sitcoms to dramas to documentaries to cooking shows to reality t.v. to news programs. There's not a whole lot on network television that interests me, but I can usually find something on cable worth watching.
30. I like shopping, especially for decorative things. Most of the time I'm just browsing, but I love to look at home decor, furniture, linens, wall hangings, pottery, holiday decorations, etc.
STUFF I HATE
31. Tuna.
32. Racism, intolerance and ignorance.
33. Too much commotion, noise, disorder.
34. Really hot weather and really cold weather.
35. Storms. I'm very, very afraid of storms that pack lightening, wind and/or tornado warnings.
36. Living away from my family and friends.
37. Dog hair/cat hair . . . any shedding animal hair on my carpet, clothing, car, etc. Drives me crazy!
38. Heights. I wasn't always afraid of them, but I am now.
39. Flying. Same as above. Never minded it as a child, but have grown fearful over my lifetime.
40. Confrontation. I rarely stand up for myself, argue with others, or voice my complaints.
I BELIEVE
41. in God.
42. that all things happen for a reason.
43. in always following your gut.
44. that there is good in everyone, but nobody is perfect
45. that you should never stop learning.
46. in miracles.
47. family matters most.
48. I'm a good mom.
49. my children are my greatest responsibility and a true gift from God
50. in volunteering and sharing my gifts and talents where they can be used
I WISH
51. my grandparents lived long enough to see me get married and meet my children.
52. that I never started smoking.
53. money wasn't a concern
54. I lived closer to my family and friends.
55. my kids will grow up healthy and happy and strong.
56. my marriage will last forever.
57. I tried harder in college.
58. that I would have made exercise a habit early in my life
59. that I would have lived on my own and traveled more before I got married and started a family.
60. I had a closer relationship with my brother.
I'VE NEVER
61. interviewed for a job I didn't get.
62. been to Europe.
63. done drugs.
64. lived by myself.
65. gotten a tattoo
66. broken a bone.
67. been skydiving, hot air ballooning, or anything else that requires being high above the ground -- except para-sailing
68. been in a fist-fight
69. been arrested (I was "picked up" for underage drinking once as a teenager, but not technically booked)
70.
CAREER AND EDUCATION
71. I went to Catholic school from kindergarten through high school and wore uniforms to school every day.
72. I graduated from NIU in four years, despite failing and having to re-take a few classes and changing my major from physical therapy to speech pathology
73. I applied to about 10 graduate schools for two years and was never accepted into a speech pathology program.
74. I went to night school and got my masters degree in Early Childhood Education.
75. I always had a job from the time I was 15 until I became a stay-at-home mom at age 31.
76. I've worked at an ice cream shop, doctor's office, realtor, health center, special education cooperative, university and elementary school. I've also shown model homes, tutored, babysat and worked at a meal preparation chain.
77. I was hired for a job as a waitress, went to the training and orientation, and was never called to work there. That was almost ten years ago. To this day, when I drive by the restaurant I always say, "wait, let me run in and see if I'm on the schedule for this week." Still cracks me up. Darn 'Leona's'!
78. After graduate school, I went on to work for the university in a grant program created by one of my professors.
79. I've been lucky enough to work with some amazing people in every job I've ever had. There's at least one person from each place that had a major impact on my life, and I keep in touch with people from just about every place I have ever worked or gone to school.
80. As a student, I was always excellent at standardized tests. I always scored in the upper 90th percentile in grade school achievement tests. . . did so well on high school entrance exams that I landed in honors classes . . . scored pretty well on my ACTs and GREs. Ironically, I'm a much better test-taker than I am a student. A very rare reversal of what is normally the case when people don't test well.
KID STUFF
81. My mom was a stay-at-home mom until we were in school, and then she worked at our grammar school.
82. We went on a vacation every year that I can remember. Sometimes it was a short trip to somewhere in the Midwest, sometimes it was a big trip to a place like Disney or Canada or California.
83. I always had my own room and can still remember the pink walls and red carpeting of my childhood.
84. My happiest memories of childhood are the holidays I spent with my aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents, and all of the time I spent at my grandparents' houses -- having sleep-overs, playing at their houses, and having Sunday dinners with the whole family.
85. I lived in the same house from the time I was two months old until the day I got married (well, except for college and a brief stint living in an apartment after college). My parents still live there today, and I love that my kids have the chance to grow up with that house as well.
86. I met friends in kindergarten that I still have to this day.
87. I spent a lot of time at the public library -- checking out books, taking classes, and participating in reading programs. My love for reading was fostered from an early age.
88. I can still recall the magic of Christmas time, and the tradition that came with it: decorations, midnight mass, lifesavers and calendars from grandma, the wonder of seeing the gifts that Santa left under the tree, driving home late at night from my aunt and uncle's house with my grandma and grandpa in the back seat of our car, listening to Christmas music on the radio.
89. My dad came home from work every evening at 4:20pm, and I was usually laying on the floor watching the Brady Bunch on t.v. while my mom made dinner in the kitchen. I can vividly recall the rough, green shag carpet on the floor, the gold couch pillow I was laying on, the darkness that would be falling over the room as the sun set during the winter months. Cozy!
90. I remember the happy times of playing with neighbors outside all day long. . .attending friends' birthday parties at McDonald's, Farrel's, Zips, Ground Round, the roller rink and in their homes. . . having "best friends" that would change from year to year (Colleen L., Stacy S., Gina F., Michelle E., Audra D., Julie H.
MORE ME
91. I'm impatient, moody, sarcastic, and honest. I have a hard time admitting when I'm wrong.
92. I'm always willing to help a friend.
93. I'm not a perfect wife, by any means, but I'm faithful, dependable, honest, and trusting.
94. I cry easily. When I'm angry, sad, frustrated, happy or hurt, the tears just flow.
95. I start a lot of things that I never finish, and tend to procrastinate a lot.
96. I'm very organized and a bit anal. This might not be reflected in my day-to-day life, but if something is unclean, unorganized or out of place, it bothers me.
97. I'm sensitive. I take things to heart, don't easily forget insults, don't handle criticism well.
98. There are very, very few people that I don't get along with. I'm pretty good at adapting to new people and places and can talk to most anyone.
99. I don't like to brag about myself, so let me also disclose that I bite my nails, I swallow my gum, and have an annoying tone to my voice. I also sweat way more than the average woman, stink at sports, and am clumsy and uncoordinated. I love to sing, but am a horrible singer. I'm a mediocre cook and horrible at baking. There, that feels better.
100. At the age of 35, I still don't know what I want to be when I "grow up".
The Sacrifice Is Worth It
Nearly three and a half years ago, we made the decision to become a single-income family. While we were previously living a life that required every penny of our two incomes, there was no choice in the matter. I had to let other people care for and raise Jenna while I went to work each day caring for and helping to raise other peoples' children as a teacher. It was purely financial, it was cruel irony, and it broke my heart nearly every day. All I hoped for back then was a choice. To be able to stay home, if I wanted, and know that we could make it. The sacrifice would be worth it.
My last day of work was the day Kara was born. Today Kara is three years and four months and two days old, and I have been at home with her every day of her life (and also Jack's 16 months and two weeks of life). These 40 months of my life have changed my life in ways I can't even begin to describe. I've had many, many ups and just as many downs . . . days where I love being at home, days when I question whether or not I should return to work . . . days where I can't keep up with the pace, days where I'm bored to tears . . . days where everything goes right, days where everything goes wrong. . . days where I need to get away and be by myself, days where I feel intense loneliness despite being constantly surrounded by my children. But, even in the hard times, I have to remind myself that there is nowhere else I'd rather be. The sacrifice is worth it.
Living on one salary has put tremendous pressure on our family. Mark has had to shoulder the whole financial responsibility for the family, and I have had to get used to not being a contributor. Not that I contributed a staggering amount to our family's income, but it was something. The little bit that might make a difference. It would probably be enough to give us the opportunity to keep our credit card balances at zero, and help build up the savings. We budget every dollar, we clip coupons, we've never hired a babysitter. We can't afford memberships to museums, tickets to events, or vacations. We haven't been able to buy a new car, do home improvement jobs that we want to, or shop for luxury items. Mark and I rarely, if ever, get to go out on dates, buy new clothes, or give each other gifts for holidays. Buying Christmas gifts and back-to-school supplies has become difficult, and can never be done without making major sacrifices in other areas of our life. And I don't mean skipping a manicure here or a shopping spree there. I mean deciding whether to buy toilet paper or paper towels this week, depending on which one we really need more. But, the sacrifice is worth it.
Over the last few years, I have met lots and lots of families with a stay-at-home parent. I often times find myself envying their financial comfort. I watch people remodel their homes, go on vacations, enroll their kids in expensive classes, buy memberships to museums and zoos. I wonder how it is they are able to afford it and, more importantly, why we aren't. At those times, I have to remember that there are other people looking at us, and envying the fact that I can stay at home. Not everyone has that luxury. I was there before, and I know how that feels. To just want the choice.
Lately I have been able to think back to my own childhood, to the days when my mom was home with us day in and day out. I can't recall any specifics of the activities that filled our days. I'm sure we went to zoos and I know we took vacations. But I really can't remember them. What I can remember is my mom always being there, day in and day out. I can remember the intense bond I had with her, and the feeling that my dad was our breadwinner and protector. I remember my childhood as carefree, fun, and comfortable. I can only hope that the sacrifices Mark and I make today will leave the same lasting impression on our children. I hope that they will never remember the sacrifices we made, but will instead be left with the feeling that it was worth it.
My last day of work was the day Kara was born. Today Kara is three years and four months and two days old, and I have been at home with her every day of her life (and also Jack's 16 months and two weeks of life). These 40 months of my life have changed my life in ways I can't even begin to describe. I've had many, many ups and just as many downs . . . days where I love being at home, days when I question whether or not I should return to work . . . days where I can't keep up with the pace, days where I'm bored to tears . . . days where everything goes right, days where everything goes wrong. . . days where I need to get away and be by myself, days where I feel intense loneliness despite being constantly surrounded by my children. But, even in the hard times, I have to remind myself that there is nowhere else I'd rather be. The sacrifice is worth it.
Living on one salary has put tremendous pressure on our family. Mark has had to shoulder the whole financial responsibility for the family, and I have had to get used to not being a contributor. Not that I contributed a staggering amount to our family's income, but it was something. The little bit that might make a difference. It would probably be enough to give us the opportunity to keep our credit card balances at zero, and help build up the savings. We budget every dollar, we clip coupons, we've never hired a babysitter. We can't afford memberships to museums, tickets to events, or vacations. We haven't been able to buy a new car, do home improvement jobs that we want to, or shop for luxury items. Mark and I rarely, if ever, get to go out on dates, buy new clothes, or give each other gifts for holidays. Buying Christmas gifts and back-to-school supplies has become difficult, and can never be done without making major sacrifices in other areas of our life. And I don't mean skipping a manicure here or a shopping spree there. I mean deciding whether to buy toilet paper or paper towels this week, depending on which one we really need more. But, the sacrifice is worth it.
Over the last few years, I have met lots and lots of families with a stay-at-home parent. I often times find myself envying their financial comfort. I watch people remodel their homes, go on vacations, enroll their kids in expensive classes, buy memberships to museums and zoos. I wonder how it is they are able to afford it and, more importantly, why we aren't. At those times, I have to remember that there are other people looking at us, and envying the fact that I can stay at home. Not everyone has that luxury. I was there before, and I know how that feels. To just want the choice.
Lately I have been able to think back to my own childhood, to the days when my mom was home with us day in and day out. I can't recall any specifics of the activities that filled our days. I'm sure we went to zoos and I know we took vacations. But I really can't remember them. What I can remember is my mom always being there, day in and day out. I can remember the intense bond I had with her, and the feeling that my dad was our breadwinner and protector. I remember my childhood as carefree, fun, and comfortable. I can only hope that the sacrifices Mark and I make today will leave the same lasting impression on our children. I hope that they will never remember the sacrifices we made, but will instead be left with the feeling that it was worth it.
August 16, 2008
The zoo, zoo, zoo
"We're goin' to the zoo, zoo, zoo . . . how about you, you, you? You can come too, too, too . . . we're goin' to the zoo, zoo, zoo!" (song taken from the children's book, Going To The Zoo -- required singing on the way to any zoo, any time, any place!)
Yesterday we took our first trip to Bloomington's Miller Park Zoo. I quickly discovered that I may, in fact, be a snob. I couldn't help but compare this city's version of a "zoo" to the one that we had grown accustomed to in Milwaukee. No giraffes, no elephants, no lions . . . not even a pr
imate weighing any more than 10 pounds. I was slightly disappointed, but I had to remember that this trip was for the kids . . . and they were completely oblivious to the lack of large mammals at this zoo. They loved looking at the tortoises, snakes, birds, lizards and other small creatures. Jenna's favorite was the red panda (which looks rather like a raccoon) and the baby goat. Kara was partial to the bear we saw, probably in honor of daddy who once said the bear was his favorite animal at the zoo.
Yesterday we took our first trip to Bloomington's Miller Park Zoo. I quickly discovered that I may, in fact, be a snob. I couldn't help but compare this city's version of a "zoo" to the one that we had grown accustomed to in Milwaukee. No giraffes, no elephants, no lions . . . not even a pr
imate weighing any more than 10 pounds. I was slightly disappointed, but I had to remember that this trip was for the kids . . . and they were completely oblivious to the lack of large mammals at this zoo. They loved looking at the tortoises, snakes, birds, lizards and other small creatures. Jenna's favorite was the red panda (which looks rather like a raccoon) and the baby goat. Kara was partial to the bear we saw, probably in honor of daddy who once said the bear was his favorite animal at the zoo.
This was Jack's first time visiting a zoo since reaching the age where he can actually pay attention and see the animals around him. I always love that first trip to the zoo at this age. It's so fun to watch their faces when they catch sight of what is in the cage, and to hear him babbling and see him pointing wildly at the animals inside.
There was a petting zoo there, and the absolute highlight of my trip was watching Jack interact with the animals in the petting farm. He squatted down and snorted and squealed at the large pig lying in the shade. When said pig decided to squeal back to Jack, get up and approach him, Jack's reaction was priceless:
Jenna and Kara were taken by the baby goat and the female goat that was expecting to deliver a baby/babies any day now!
We ended our day with Jenna and Kara taking a ride on the carousel. This was the first time when, confronted with a ride without mommy, Kara jumped at the chance and literally hopped right on. What a big girl! 
The upside of this zoo is the fact that we were able to see everything there, eat a picnic lunch, ride the carousel, visit the petting zoo and be back in our cars and on the way home in three hours flat. Try doing that at Milwaukee County Zoo : )
We've been to the zoo, zoo, zoo . . .
The upside of this zoo is the fact that we were able to see everything there, eat a picnic lunch, ride the carousel, visit the petting zoo and be back in our cars and on the way home in three hours flat. Try doing that at Milwaukee County Zoo : )
We've been to the zoo, zoo, zoo . . .
August 14, 2008
Family Reunion
Recently Jenna has begun asking questions. Deep, insightful questions about Jesus, God and our faith. I'm sure it probably has a lot to do with her Bible School attendance this summer, but also something to do with the natural, inquisitive nature of a 5 year-old. As her parent, and as the first-time parent of a 5 year-old, I am beginning a whole new chapter in my life as well. I firmly believe that a parent is a child's first teacher, but at times like these I just feel incompetent, ill-prepared, and not at all ready for the job that lies ahead.
One thing that Jenna has been questioning is what happens when a person dies. Gone are the days where she'll accept my simple response, "They go to heaven". She knows that, but she wants to know what happens to the actual person. The body. Do you stop breathing? Do your eyes stay open or do they close? Do you wear clothes when you're dead? Do they bury you in the ground? (that last one surprised me . . . I have no idea where she learned that tidbit of information, but I'm guessing it might be her cousin Luke . . . who apparently a
lso informed her that sometimes people die with their eyes open).
I decided that since death is one of the natural, inevitable things that a child will have to deal with in his/her lifetime, the best thing I can do is teach my children about death. So that they have a better grasp on what it means, both physically and spiritually, and what the chain of events will be following the death of a loved one.
Yesterday morning, I took Jenna to Holy Sepulchre Cemetery. We visited the graves of all four of my grandparents, her great-grandparents, and even my maternal great-grandparents. We talked about how they died, how old they were, how old I was when it happened, etc. etc. We looked at the graves and touched the headstones. We talked about the people they were, and what I remembered best about them.
One thing that Jenna has been questioning is what happens when a person dies. Gone are the days where she'll accept my simple response, "They go to heaven". She knows that, but she wants to know what happens to the actual person. The body. Do you stop breathing? Do your eyes stay open or do they close? Do you wear clothes when you're dead? Do they bury you in the ground? (that last one surprised me . . . I have no idea where she learned that tidbit of information, but I'm guessing it might be her cousin Luke . . . who apparently a
lso informed her that sometimes people die with their eyes open).I decided that since death is one of the natural, inevitable things that a child will have to deal with in his/her lifetime, the best thing I can do is teach my children about death. So that they have a better grasp on what it means, both physically and spiritually, and what the chain of events will be following the death of a loved one.
Yesterday morning, I took Jenna to Holy Sepulchre Cemetery. We visited the graves of all four of my grandparents, her great-grandparents, and even my maternal great-grandparents. We talked about how they died, how old they were, how old I was when it happened, etc. etc. We looked at the graves and touched the headstones. We talked about the people they were, and what I remembered best about them.
It was a teachable moment. It was a quiet, reverent, bonding moment with my daughter. It was a chance to pay my respects to four people who shaped my life in powerful ways. It was a family reunion, of sorts. And it was an opportunity to teach Jenna that death isn't something to be feared. That's the beauty of our faith in God and eternal life. Whenever I'm stuck for answers as a parent, I can always rely on my faith and the message of God's teachings for the answers.
That is, until she starts asking again about how babies are born. I'm really not ready for that one . . . and I really hope that Luke doesn't beat me to it again!
That is, until she starts asking again about how babies are born. I'm really not ready for that one . . . and I really hope that Luke doesn't beat me to it again!
August 13, 2008
A Big, Fat Embarrassment
As I mentioned in my last post, my three darling children were visiting grandma and pa for the last couple of nights.
On Monday evening, they decided to take the darlings to get ice cream along with a couple of my dad's former co-workers and friends. Grandma went up to the counter to order the ice cream while Pa sat with his three little darling grandchildren, no doubt showing them off to his friends and beaming proudly. At that point Kara, my cherub-faced, golden-haired, bright-eyed little girl turned to one of my dad's friends, looked her in the face, and said, "You're big. And you're fat."
Ugh!
Thank God in heaven that I wasn't there to witness that. I was mortified when my mom reported the story to me the next day, and I still am. What do I do? Of course I had a long talk with Kara about being nice to people and not hurting other people's feelings (she listened to about the first 15 seconds of what I was saying, ignored the rest, and then changed the subject). It's not like I can call this lady and bring the whole thing up again, just to apologize for Kara's behavior, can I?
My mom tells me not to worry about it. As my grandmother would say, "Out of the mouths of babes". Yeah, and out of the mouths of 80 year-old women too! I can remember my grandmother embarrassing me with comments like that back when she was a full-fledged senior and said what she wanted, when she wanted.
At the end of the whole conversation, my mom looked at me, lowered her voice and said, "Well, you know, the lady was wearing shorts, and she probably shouldn't have been."
Hmmmm. . . . apparently the apple fell from the tree, bounced right over me, and hit my cherub-faced, golden-haired, bright-eyed little girl smack in the face.
On Monday evening, they decided to take the darlings to get ice cream along with a couple of my dad's former co-workers and friends. Grandma went up to the counter to order the ice cream while Pa sat with his three little darling grandchildren, no doubt showing them off to his friends and beaming proudly. At that point Kara, my cherub-faced, golden-haired, bright-eyed little girl turned to one of my dad's friends, looked her in the face, and said, "You're big. And you're fat."
Ugh!
Thank God in heaven that I wasn't there to witness that. I was mortified when my mom reported the story to me the next day, and I still am. What do I do? Of course I had a long talk with Kara about being nice to people and not hurting other people's feelings (she listened to about the first 15 seconds of what I was saying, ignored the rest, and then changed the subject). It's not like I can call this lady and bring the whole thing up again, just to apologize for Kara's behavior, can I?
My mom tells me not to worry about it. As my grandmother would say, "Out of the mouths of babes". Yeah, and out of the mouths of 80 year-old women too! I can remember my grandmother embarrassing me with comments like that back when she was a full-fledged senior and said what she wanted, when she wanted.
At the end of the whole conversation, my mom looked at me, lowered her voice and said, "Well, you know, the lady was wearing shorts, and she probably shouldn't have been."
Hmmmm. . . . apparently the apple fell from the tree, bounced right over me, and hit my cherub-faced, golden-haired, bright-eyed little girl smack in the face.
August 12, 2008
Time Alone With Toys
Right now I should be taking a shower, packing up my overnight bag, loading up the dog, and heading up to my parents' house. But I just can't seem to get motivated to leave the peace and quiet of my home. You see, for the last glorious 48 hours, ALL THREE of my darling children have been visiting grandma and pa! Today is the day I go to pick them up. I miss them, of course, and can't wait to see them, of course . . . but I have never enjoyed time away from them as much as I have for the past two days.
When grandma made the offer to meet up with us Sunday after church and take the kids home with them, my heart skipped a beat. This was the day I was waiting for! The day I have dreamed of for months where I would have all of the time in the world to do all of the things I lament about not being able to do with my children. Places I would go, stores I would check out, restaurants I would try, books I would read, projects I would accomplish. I spent Saturday night in a restless battle for sleep, with my mind mulling over all of the possibilities.
Sunday, after dropping the kids off, Mark and I took the long, scenic ride down Rt. 66 back home. I use the word scenic lightly, because like the rest of central Illinois, all there is to see is corn and soybeans. But it was nice to take a drive on a beautiful summer day, and not have to listen to "Max and Ruby" on the DVD player in the background.
Sunday afternoon and evening were lazy, and about the only thing I accomplished was going out to dinner with Mark. That was nice too, because we got to try out a restaurant that I've wanted to go to, without the kids. I got to order what I wanted (and not worry about choosing something I could share with Jack), we didn't have to rearrange the table settings, pick things up off the floor, cut anyone else's food, bring anyone to the bathroom, or give constant reminders to one another to eat. We just sat there, in glorious silence. It made me think about all of the times in the past where I've observed couples having dinner together that didn't seem to be talking at all. It always made me kind of sad to see two people sitting together, but having nothing to say to one another or not having the desire to communicate. Now I realize those poor, lonely people might have actually just been enjoying a meal out without their children!
Monday was a full day off, and full of possibilities. Sadly, I couldn't settle on a good idea, so instead I tackled the chore of unpacking some of the boxes in the basement, getting some things together for a garage sale, and rotating out the massive amounts of toys that my children have. Not a glamorous way to spend the day, but it was quiet. And I got to toss out whatever I wanted, put things where I wanted, and sort and clean to my heart's content. Each of my children will come home to new toys in their bedrooms today, new things to play with in the family room and playroom, and even a few unopened toys still in boxes from last Christmas!
Thanks grandma and pa for giving me a few days worth of peace and quiet. I'll get going now, so that I can get to your house and return your lives to normal as quickly as possible. When we're gone tomorrow, and peace and quiet have returned to your house, I'll bet you find a little part of yourself yearning for the sounds of Max and Ruby (and Jenna, Kara, and Jack). I know I have!
When grandma made the offer to meet up with us Sunday after church and take the kids home with them, my heart skipped a beat. This was the day I was waiting for! The day I have dreamed of for months where I would have all of the time in the world to do all of the things I lament about not being able to do with my children. Places I would go, stores I would check out, restaurants I would try, books I would read, projects I would accomplish. I spent Saturday night in a restless battle for sleep, with my mind mulling over all of the possibilities.
Sunday, after dropping the kids off, Mark and I took the long, scenic ride down Rt. 66 back home. I use the word scenic lightly, because like the rest of central Illinois, all there is to see is corn and soybeans. But it was nice to take a drive on a beautiful summer day, and not have to listen to "Max and Ruby" on the DVD player in the background.
Sunday afternoon and evening were lazy, and about the only thing I accomplished was going out to dinner with Mark. That was nice too, because we got to try out a restaurant that I've wanted to go to, without the kids. I got to order what I wanted (and not worry about choosing something I could share with Jack), we didn't have to rearrange the table settings, pick things up off the floor, cut anyone else's food, bring anyone to the bathroom, or give constant reminders to one another to eat. We just sat there, in glorious silence. It made me think about all of the times in the past where I've observed couples having dinner together that didn't seem to be talking at all. It always made me kind of sad to see two people sitting together, but having nothing to say to one another or not having the desire to communicate. Now I realize those poor, lonely people might have actually just been enjoying a meal out without their children!
Monday was a full day off, and full of possibilities. Sadly, I couldn't settle on a good idea, so instead I tackled the chore of unpacking some of the boxes in the basement, getting some things together for a garage sale, and rotating out the massive amounts of toys that my children have. Not a glamorous way to spend the day, but it was quiet. And I got to toss out whatever I wanted, put things where I wanted, and sort and clean to my heart's content. Each of my children will come home to new toys in their bedrooms today, new things to play with in the family room and playroom, and even a few unopened toys still in boxes from last Christmas!
Thanks grandma and pa for giving me a few days worth of peace and quiet. I'll get going now, so that I can get to your house and return your lives to normal as quickly as possible. When we're gone tomorrow, and peace and quiet have returned to your house, I'll bet you find a little part of yourself yearning for the sounds of Max and Ruby (and Jenna, Kara, and Jack). I know I have!
August 8, 2008
08.08.08
So much fuss has been made about today's "magical" date, that I just felt the need to post today. It's funny because I can vividly remember the same fuss being made last year over 07-07-07, and for the previous year's 06-06-06, and the year before that. . . all of the way back to good old 01/01/01. Hmmm. They're nice dates and all, but nothing will really top 9/9/99 in my book. That was the date that your dad and I got engaged!
I look forward to
09-09-09
10-10-10
11-11-11
and
12-12-12.
That should be it, right?
August 3, 2008
17 Days
Saturday was an uneventful, quiet day at home. Yard work, house cleaning, laundry, and some fun in the sun. Daddy figured out to blow up the behemoth pool that grandma and pa gave to us, and Kara and Jenna enjoyed some swimming time in the yard. Jack, not so much. Still not a big fan of water or getting wet!
Late Saturday afternoon, mommy went to check the mail, and the contents of that little box at the end of the driveway put my life into a tailspin. No, it wasn't anything as good as winning a million dollars from Publishers Clearinghouse . . . nothing as bad as a jury duty summons, tax bill, or a collection notice. It was a seemingly innocuous envelope from the school district where Jenna will be attending kindergarten in the fall.
Curious, I opened it. All I had to see was the title of the contents to send my heart racing and my palms sweating: school bus route and schedule. The good people at the school district's transportation office have taken the time to plan, schedule, map out and create the bus schedule for fall. I had expected the information's arrival in "early August", but hadn't really thought about it and certainly didn't realize the impact it was going to have on me.
The paper figuratively leaped out of the envelope and smacked me right in the face. My baby girl is getting ever-closer to the day when she'll become a kindergartner. The beginning of her life as a student . . . the beginning of mommy and daddy sending her out into the world on her own. On a bus. By herself. With about 80 other kids. The beginning of mommy spending her days without her little side-kick in tow.
Sure I knew this day was fast-approaching. We've begun "back-to-school" shopping for clothes, shoes and school supplies last month. We've bought and read no less than three books about the first days of kindergarten. Jenna has been talking about this day for months. I have all of the information that I was given at registration day back in May in a little folder on my kitchen counter. I've been meaning to pull it out and read it over. Let me get it. See, right here. It says that the first day of kindergarten will be . . . hold it . . .
August 20th?!
This month?! What happened to starting school after Labor Day? August 20th is just 17 days away. 17 days?! That's not nearly enough time. I still have so much to do . . . so much to see . . . so much to experience with my baby before she begins school. I've heard other mommies lament over their children starting school. There being so much that they wanted to do and didn't . . . so much time that they wanted to get back but couldn't . . . I swore that I wouldn't let that happen to me. To us. We were connected at the hip and had nothing but sweet time on our hands because I'm a stay-at-home mommy now, and my job is to spend every precious moment of life with my children.
Surely this can't be happening to me.
All I can say is, fasten your seat belt Jenna. This is going to be the busiest 17 days of your life: the zoo, the beach, the pool, wherever you want to go, whatever you want to do. Just be sure to bring along some Kleenex for mama . . . she's going to have a tough 17 days.
Late Saturday afternoon, mommy went to check the mail, and the contents of that little box at the end of the driveway put my life into a tailspin. No, it wasn't anything as good as winning a million dollars from Publishers Clearinghouse . . . nothing as bad as a jury duty summons, tax bill, or a collection notice. It was a seemingly innocuous envelope from the school district where Jenna will be attending kindergarten in the fall.
Curious, I opened it. All I had to see was the title of the contents to send my heart racing and my palms sweating: school bus route and schedule. The good people at the school district's transportation office have taken the time to plan, schedule, map out and create the bus schedule for fall. I had expected the information's arrival in "early August", but hadn't really thought about it and certainly didn't realize the impact it was going to have on me.
The paper figuratively leaped out of the envelope and smacked me right in the face. My baby girl is getting ever-closer to the day when she'll become a kindergartner. The beginning of her life as a student . . . the beginning of mommy and daddy sending her out into the world on her own. On a bus. By herself. With about 80 other kids. The beginning of mommy spending her days without her little side-kick in tow.
Sure I knew this day was fast-approaching. We've begun "back-to-school" shopping for clothes, shoes and school supplies last month. We've bought and read no less than three books about the first days of kindergarten. Jenna has been talking about this day for months. I have all of the information that I was given at registration day back in May in a little folder on my kitchen counter. I've been meaning to pull it out and read it over. Let me get it. See, right here. It says that the first day of kindergarten will be . . . hold it . . .
August 20th?!
This month?! What happened to starting school after Labor Day? August 20th is just 17 days away. 17 days?! That's not nearly enough time. I still have so much to do . . . so much to see . . . so much to experience with my baby before she begins school. I've heard other mommies lament over their children starting school. There being so much that they wanted to do and didn't . . . so much time that they wanted to get back but couldn't . . . I swore that I wouldn't let that happen to me. To us. We were connected at the hip and had nothing but sweet time on our hands because I'm a stay-at-home mommy now, and my job is to spend every precious moment of life with my children.
Surely this can't be happening to me.
All I can say is, fasten your seat belt Jenna. This is going to be the busiest 17 days of your life: the zoo, the beach, the pool, wherever you want to go, whatever you want to do. Just be sure to bring along some Kleenex for mama . . . she's going to have a tough 17 days.
July 30, 2008
Why I Hate Dining Out
Today grandma was in town visiting while daddy is away on a week-long fishing trip to Canada. When daddy is away, grandma likes to come and help mommy out (a.k.a. keep mommy sane). Grandma thought it would be nice for us to all go out to dinner so that I could have a break from cooking. It wasn't nice, and I'll tell 'ya, it was no break!
I'm going to just jot down a few notes for myself for future reference. The next time I think it would be a good idea to take three kids under the age of 5 out to a restaurant, I hope I'll take a few minutes to come back and read this post. Real slowly.
1. Why is it that the restraints or straps on every shopping cart or public high-chair that I come in contact with are broken?
2. Why is it that restaurants don't fully wipe down their broken high chairs after each use, so as to prevent the next occupant from sitting in a sticky, filthy mess?
3. When will I learn that I should always, no matter what, put my kids' milk into my own cups from home that have secure lids that won't bust off (and spill milk all over the table).
4. Why does Jack have to do his gutteral scream in public places?
5. Why can't Jenna and Kara speak in a normal, conversational tone when they're in a restaurant?
6. Why is there never enough room on the table to safely store all of the table's contents (salt, pepper, condiments, silverware, glasses of water, etc.) out of the reach of a toddler?
7. Why don't all servers instinctively know that they should never, under any circumstances, place a beverage, plate or utensil within direct reach of a toddler?
8. Why is my container of wipes in the diaper bag always empty when we're in a restaurant?
9. Why do I continue to order meals for all of my children when all three of them could eat off of one plate and still have left-overs to bring home?
10. Why do all of my children remove their shoes and kick them under the table as soon as we sit down?
11. Why is it impossible for an adult to reach under the table when sitting in a booth to retrieve the shoes, crayons, utensils, straws, napkins, etc. that end up down there?
12. Why, oh why, do I ever think it's a good idea to go out to a restaurant with the kids?
Sensing my crabby mood during and after the dinner, grandma pointed out that I shouldn't worry. The kids are fine, nobody else notices or cares about their behavior, and they're not bothering anyone.
I point out that they're bothering me. I care. I do not enjoy dining with my children at any public place.
*sigh*
At least it was "kids eat free" night at IHOP, so we didn't have to pay for all of that uneaten food we left on the floor.
I'm going to just jot down a few notes for myself for future reference. The next time I think it would be a good idea to take three kids under the age of 5 out to a restaurant, I hope I'll take a few minutes to come back and read this post. Real slowly.
1. Why is it that the restraints or straps on every shopping cart or public high-chair that I come in contact with are broken?
2. Why is it that restaurants don't fully wipe down their broken high chairs after each use, so as to prevent the next occupant from sitting in a sticky, filthy mess?
3. When will I learn that I should always, no matter what, put my kids' milk into my own cups from home that have secure lids that won't bust off (and spill milk all over the table).
4. Why does Jack have to do his gutteral scream in public places?
5. Why can't Jenna and Kara speak in a normal, conversational tone when they're in a restaurant?
6. Why is there never enough room on the table to safely store all of the table's contents (salt, pepper, condiments, silverware, glasses of water, etc.) out of the reach of a toddler?
7. Why don't all servers instinctively know that they should never, under any circumstances, place a beverage, plate or utensil within direct reach of a toddler?
8. Why is my container of wipes in the diaper bag always empty when we're in a restaurant?
9. Why do I continue to order meals for all of my children when all three of them could eat off of one plate and still have left-overs to bring home?
10. Why do all of my children remove their shoes and kick them under the table as soon as we sit down?
11. Why is it impossible for an adult to reach under the table when sitting in a booth to retrieve the shoes, crayons, utensils, straws, napkins, etc. that end up down there?
12. Why, oh why, do I ever think it's a good idea to go out to a restaurant with the kids?
Sensing my crabby mood during and after the dinner, grandma pointed out that I shouldn't worry. The kids are fine, nobody else notices or cares about their behavior, and they're not bothering anyone.
I point out that they're bothering me. I care. I do not enjoy dining with my children at any public place.
*sigh*
At least it was "kids eat free" night at IHOP, so we didn't have to pay for all of that uneaten food we left on the floor.
July 28, 2008
The Bond
Today was the first day of Vacation Bible School at the Lutheran church where Kara will attend preschool in the fall. Both Jenna and Kara are signed up to attend, and this will be a first for Kara. The "first time" mommy will drop her off somewhere and leave! They were wiling to accept a three year-old as long as they were potty trained. We crossed that bridge last month, so I figured that this might be a good opportunity for her to get used to being dropped off somewhere, and still have her "sissy" with her. Boy was that lucky!
Let me pause the story here to give you an aside. For those that don't know, in my former life I was a teacher. An early childhood teacher. Now this is information that I don't give out as readily as I used to because (1) people then assume I have answers to their questions / recommendations about education (I don't) (2) with my background one might assume that I'm a super-cool mom who does lots of arts and crafts and projects and trips with her own children (I don't).
I can vividly recall the first days of each school year . . . the children who came to me crying . . . the parents who just didn't seem to know how to seperate from their kids on that first day. Back then, I was very matter of fact: I told the parents I could handle the crying, I was a master at persuading children to come out of their shells and feel comfortable with me, and I was pretty adamant about the parents just dropping off, giving one last kiss, and hitting the road.
Fast forward three years, and now I'm on the other side of the fence. I'm the parent of the sad little child, crying and begging mama not to leave.
Kara's hemming and hawing began last night when suddenly, she wasn't as taken with the idea of "going to school" as she has been all summer. One thing I've learned from my five years experience with this job as a mom is that I can never properly predict or plan for my childrens' reactions to a new situation. When I prepare for the worst, they hardly bat an eye . . . when I assume there will be smooth sailing, they throw me for a loop. Today I set off for VBS with a sense of dread, but the hope that I would be proven wrong. I wasn't.
Kara cried and clinged and begged and pleaded me not to leave her. This all took place in the parking lot before we even entered the building. Once inside, we found our nametags and searched for our assigned groups: Kara was group #13 (a.k.a. "unlucky 13") and Jenna was in group #7 (a.k.a. internationally known "lucky number"). I gulped, took a deep breath, and prepared to watch Kara confront the reality that she wouldn't be spending the morning with her sissy, but with other 3 year-olds in her group.
We made our way through the packed assembly room and found our numbers. As luck would have it, Jenna's group was stationed directly in front of Kara's group. I introduced them each to their "teacher" (a.k.a. teenage counselor) and tried to scoot away. Nothing doing. I sat down right in the middle of the two groups and put each of my babies on the side nearest their corresponding group. I told them they could be right next to each other. When they were distracted by the opening announcements, I ran for the door (well, as fast as you can run with a 20-pound child in a stroller that doesn't have any operational wheels left after 5+ years of service).
Once out in the atrium, I began walking back and forth with Jack and sneaking peeks into the gathering room. There stood my two darling babies, the big "sissy" and the little "sissy", holding hands, right smack in the middle of their two groups. They had found their Switzerland, their "neutral" territory where neither would be completely abandoned. Mommy had left them, but they still had each other.
We have about one month to go until school starts. I'm hoping this VBS experience will teach Kara about being without her mommy . . . that she'll get used to being dropped off . . . that the drop-offs at preschool will go smoothly given this previous experience. . . that she'll learn to trust that school is a fun, safe place and that mommy always comes back for her at the end of the day.
I also have one month to prepare myself. I just know I'm going to be one of "those parents" who just can't seperate from their child on the first day of school.
Let me pause the story here to give you an aside. For those that don't know, in my former life I was a teacher. An early childhood teacher. Now this is information that I don't give out as readily as I used to because (1) people then assume I have answers to their questions / recommendations about education (I don't) (2) with my background one might assume that I'm a super-cool mom who does lots of arts and crafts and projects and trips with her own children (I don't).
I can vividly recall the first days of each school year . . . the children who came to me crying . . . the parents who just didn't seem to know how to seperate from their kids on that first day. Back then, I was very matter of fact: I told the parents I could handle the crying, I was a master at persuading children to come out of their shells and feel comfortable with me, and I was pretty adamant about the parents just dropping off, giving one last kiss, and hitting the road.
Fast forward three years, and now I'm on the other side of the fence. I'm the parent of the sad little child, crying and begging mama not to leave.
Kara's hemming and hawing began last night when suddenly, she wasn't as taken with the idea of "going to school" as she has been all summer. One thing I've learned from my five years experience with this job as a mom is that I can never properly predict or plan for my childrens' reactions to a new situation. When I prepare for the worst, they hardly bat an eye . . . when I assume there will be smooth sailing, they throw me for a loop. Today I set off for VBS with a sense of dread, but the hope that I would be proven wrong. I wasn't.
Kara cried and clinged and begged and pleaded me not to leave her. This all took place in the parking lot before we even entered the building. Once inside, we found our nametags and searched for our assigned groups: Kara was group #13 (a.k.a. "unlucky 13") and Jenna was in group #7 (a.k.a. internationally known "lucky number"). I gulped, took a deep breath, and prepared to watch Kara confront the reality that she wouldn't be spending the morning with her sissy, but with other 3 year-olds in her group.
We made our way through the packed assembly room and found our numbers. As luck would have it, Jenna's group was stationed directly in front of Kara's group. I introduced them each to their "teacher" (a.k.a. teenage counselor) and tried to scoot away. Nothing doing. I sat down right in the middle of the two groups and put each of my babies on the side nearest their corresponding group. I told them they could be right next to each other. When they were distracted by the opening announcements, I ran for the door (well, as fast as you can run with a 20-pound child in a stroller that doesn't have any operational wheels left after 5+ years of service).
Once out in the atrium, I began walking back and forth with Jack and sneaking peeks into the gathering room. There stood my two darling babies, the big "sissy" and the little "sissy", holding hands, right smack in the middle of their two groups. They had found their Switzerland, their "neutral" territory where neither would be completely abandoned. Mommy had left them, but they still had each other.
We have about one month to go until school starts. I'm hoping this VBS experience will teach Kara about being without her mommy . . . that she'll get used to being dropped off . . . that the drop-offs at preschool will go smoothly given this previous experience. . . that she'll learn to trust that school is a fun, safe place and that mommy always comes back for her at the end of the day.
I also have one month to prepare myself. I just know I'm going to be one of "those parents" who just can't seperate from their child on the first day of school.
July 27, 2008
Aspirations
Every now and again, the girls and I have a conversation about what they would like to be when they grow-up. I usually start with the predictable speech about how they can be anything that they want to be as long as they try hard and do their best, etc., etc.
This week's career choices, as indicated by my aspiring little dreamers:
Jenna -- "I want to be a veterinarian, but I don't want to take care of the sick animals. Only the healthy ones."
Kara -- "I want to be a statue."
There 'ya have it folks. Stay tuned!
This week's career choices, as indicated by my aspiring little dreamers:
Jenna -- "I want to be a veterinarian, but I don't want to take care of the sick animals. Only the healthy ones."
Kara -- "I want to be a statue."
There 'ya have it folks. Stay tuned!
July 23, 2008
Thank You God and Jesus!
After putting the kids to bed, I was downstairs trying to finish up my day when I heard Kara crying my name. Well, if my name were "MMMmmmmooooooooommmmmmmyyyyyy!".
I ran up the steps, two at a time, and raced to her room to "shoosh" her before she woke Jack. When I got into her room, she was sitting up in bed with the covers pulled around her, wide-eyed and crying about how she was afraid of monsters in the back yard.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and looked out at the quiet, pre-dusk evening through her bedroom window. Hesitantly, Kara joined me and took a peek herself. She said, "I see my swingset, and one of Alyssa's balls (our neighbor), and . . . hey! There's Jesus and God!".
The rest of the conversation is too difficult to comprehend, let alone re-create, but it went something like this:
Me: Where are Jesus and God?
Kara: Right there! Jesus is green and God is orange.
Me: Green and orange? Where?
Kara: (giggling) Right there!
Me: But I don't see anything green or orange. Where? In our yard?
Kara: No, over there!
Me: (realizing I'm not going to see Jesus or God at this point) Well, isn't that nice! Jesus and God are both outside of your window, watching over you and protecting you. See! There's nothing to be afraid of! You have Jesus and God!
Kara: (face full of smiles and wide-eyed excitement, presses her face against the screen and yells out into the quiet night) "Thank you God and Jesus!"
I'm sure the neighbors are wondering what kind of revival we have going on over here, but I don't care. My baby has God and Jesus watching over her, making her feel safe, and putting her to sleep with a smile on her face. We should all be so lucky. Sigh. The faith and innocence of a child. How can I recapture that for myself?
***UPDATE***
Since this story, we have looked for God outside of Kara's window every night. We haven't seen him again. Until today, 8/23/08.
Tonight the girls and I "stayed up late" watching Cinderella, eating popcorn and snuggling on the couch. When the movie was over, I commented about how late it was and how dark it was outside. Kara stood up on the couch to look out the window, and exclaimed, "There he is! It's God again!". From where we were sitting, I had a good view of the bright light coming from the streetlight on the next block.
I ran up the steps, two at a time, and raced to her room to "shoosh" her before she woke Jack. When I got into her room, she was sitting up in bed with the covers pulled around her, wide-eyed and crying about how she was afraid of monsters in the back yard.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and looked out at the quiet, pre-dusk evening through her bedroom window. Hesitantly, Kara joined me and took a peek herself. She said, "I see my swingset, and one of Alyssa's balls (our neighbor), and . . . hey! There's Jesus and God!".
The rest of the conversation is too difficult to comprehend, let alone re-create, but it went something like this:
Me: Where are Jesus and God?
Kara: Right there! Jesus is green and God is orange.
Me: Green and orange? Where?
Kara: (giggling) Right there!
Me: But I don't see anything green or orange. Where? In our yard?
Kara: No, over there!
Me: (realizing I'm not going to see Jesus or God at this point) Well, isn't that nice! Jesus and God are both outside of your window, watching over you and protecting you. See! There's nothing to be afraid of! You have Jesus and God!
Kara: (face full of smiles and wide-eyed excitement, presses her face against the screen and yells out into the quiet night) "Thank you God and Jesus!"
I'm sure the neighbors are wondering what kind of revival we have going on over here, but I don't care. My baby has God and Jesus watching over her, making her feel safe, and putting her to sleep with a smile on her face. We should all be so lucky. Sigh. The faith and innocence of a child. How can I recapture that for myself?
***UPDATE***
Since this story, we have looked for God outside of Kara's window every night. We haven't seen him again. Until today, 8/23/08.
Tonight the girls and I "stayed up late" watching Cinderella, eating popcorn and snuggling on the couch. When the movie was over, I commented about how late it was and how dark it was outside. Kara stood up on the couch to look out the window, and exclaimed, "There he is! It's God again!". From where we were sitting, I had a good view of the bright light coming from the streetlight on the next block.
July 21, 2008
"That Mom"
So on Tuesday night, Mark was away for the night for work. I was quite proud of myself for getting the kids out of the house all day and keeping ourselves busy. I joined a playgroup in our new town right when we moved here, but hadn't gotten around to attending any events until today. It was fun -- nice to meet some new people and not spend the day alone.
See, I'm "that mom". The kind that isn't shy about meeting new people and can just show up and immerse herself into a whole new group in a whole new community. Aren't I brave and outgoing?
Tuesday evening came around, and I got the kids to bed and was spending some quality time on the computer, reading blogs. Around 11pm, Jack began to cry. Not the kind of cry that makes you mad or frustrated, but the kind that makes you want to go in there and rescue him. I scooped him up in my arms and took him to the glider where we rocked for a good, long time. The good kind of rock. The kind that he snuggles in tight, rests his head on my shoulder, and lets me just rock-a-bye my baby. Pure bliss. To add to my bliss, every so often Jack would, as he occasionally likes to do, pick his head up, look right in my eyes and come in for a kiss on the mouth. This particular evening it was lots of kisses, many of which were the open-mouth, drooly variety. Love it, love it, love it! When I finally lay him down for the last time, I tiptoed into my room and went to sleep with a heart full of love.
See, I'm "that mom". The one who lives in the moment and truly apprecaites and recognizes the little gifts that God has given me. I'm blessed and I'm greatful for all that I have.
Wednesday morning Jack woke with a fever. Hmmmm. That was what the crying/fussiness/permission to rock was all about. Well, he did have immunizations last week and I did note that one of them had on it's fact sheet something about "fever, possibly developing 1-2 weeks after shot". So that's probably it. No other symptoms, no big deal. Just lay low for the day.
Yep, I'm "that mom". The one who has three kids, who is calm, cool and collected and doesn't worry about a simple fever. I'm invincible.
Thursday morning, Jack woke up with a rash on his chest and tummy . . . and a few dots on his face. Not a horrible, hive-like rash . . . just little red dots. The kind my kids sometimes get with a fever / hotness. That's probably it, no other symptoms, no big deal.
See, I'm "that mom". The one that doesn't get worried, remember?
Until we get dressed and go downstairs. And I try to put him down on the floor. And he falls to the floor crying. And doesn't get up for a long time. And when he does get up, he screams and limps to the chair and stands with left leg in the air. This goes on for a while, and I sit on the floor trying to coax him over to me to see how he walks. He limps, and it looks like he's in pain. After a quick exam, I call the doctor, just as they're opening, and get an appt. for the same morning.
Great. Now I'm "that mom". The one who ignores her child's symptoms and makes nothing of them until it turns into a serious illness. The one who appears on a show like Dateline, warning other parents not to ignore "the signs" that she should have seen. Fabulous.
We rush to dress, eat, get cleaned up, packed up and out the door. As we're preparing to leave, Jack is walking around the house just fine. No more limping, no more tears.
Great. Now I'm "that mom" who panics over nothing and brings a perfectly fine child to the doctor's office.
I contemplate cancelling, but decide to go. He does have a fever and a rash, so he does have something going on, right?! We get to the office, park in back, and use the "back door" reserved for special people (i.e. people who's kids have a rash of unknown origin). We're ushered into an exam room, and as I undress him and explain to the nurse how he's suddenly better, I see the bottom of his feet. They're both red, but the left foot is puffy, kind of hard feeling, and warm to the touch. Jack recoils in pain when I touch it. Ah-ha! There is something wrong with his feet. I feel a sense of victory -- quickly followed by a sense of "wait a minute. My poor kid has something wrong with his feet!"
Now I'm "that mom" again. The one that ends up on Dateline.
The doctor comes in and agrees that the fever is probably immunization-related, and the rash is probably fever-related. But what about the feet thing? Was he walking barefoot on pavement? No. Somewhere where he could have burned his feet? No. Does he have bug bites? No (how would that happen on the bottoms of his feet?) Hmmmm. His ears look fine, his throat is . . . red! Ah-ha! Doctor now knows what's going on. Strep culture is negative, so it's probably . . . drum-roll please . . . hand, foot and mouth disease. What?!
Now I'm "that mom". The one whos kid has the nasty illness. The mom who must be dirty to have such scummy kids that can get such nasty diseases. Great. Nothing we can do about it, nothing to take, just give it 1-2 weeks to work its way out of the system. And stay away from other kids. Like the ones I just spent Tuesday with. You know, our "new friends" in the "new playgroup" I just joined in our "new town".
Great. Now I'm "that mom". The one who brings her sick kid to a playgroup and exposes all of the other kids. The mom that has to make phone calls to inform other parents of today's discovery. The one that swears up and down that she "didn't know" her kid was sick and that he "didn't have a fever" until the day after we saw you.
Yep, I'm "that mom". And tomorrow, I'll probably be a whole different one. Again.
See, I'm "that mom". The kind that isn't shy about meeting new people and can just show up and immerse herself into a whole new group in a whole new community. Aren't I brave and outgoing?
Tuesday evening came around, and I got the kids to bed and was spending some quality time on the computer, reading blogs. Around 11pm, Jack began to cry. Not the kind of cry that makes you mad or frustrated, but the kind that makes you want to go in there and rescue him. I scooped him up in my arms and took him to the glider where we rocked for a good, long time. The good kind of rock. The kind that he snuggles in tight, rests his head on my shoulder, and lets me just rock-a-bye my baby. Pure bliss. To add to my bliss, every so often Jack would, as he occasionally likes to do, pick his head up, look right in my eyes and come in for a kiss on the mouth. This particular evening it was lots of kisses, many of which were the open-mouth, drooly variety. Love it, love it, love it! When I finally lay him down for the last time, I tiptoed into my room and went to sleep with a heart full of love.
See, I'm "that mom". The one who lives in the moment and truly apprecaites and recognizes the little gifts that God has given me. I'm blessed and I'm greatful for all that I have.
Wednesday morning Jack woke with a fever. Hmmmm. That was what the crying/fussiness/permission to rock was all about. Well, he did have immunizations last week and I did note that one of them had on it's fact sheet something about "fever, possibly developing 1-2 weeks after shot". So that's probably it. No other symptoms, no big deal. Just lay low for the day.
Yep, I'm "that mom". The one who has three kids, who is calm, cool and collected and doesn't worry about a simple fever. I'm invincible.
Thursday morning, Jack woke up with a rash on his chest and tummy . . . and a few dots on his face. Not a horrible, hive-like rash . . . just little red dots. The kind my kids sometimes get with a fever / hotness. That's probably it, no other symptoms, no big deal.
See, I'm "that mom". The one that doesn't get worried, remember?
Until we get dressed and go downstairs. And I try to put him down on the floor. And he falls to the floor crying. And doesn't get up for a long time. And when he does get up, he screams and limps to the chair and stands with left leg in the air. This goes on for a while, and I sit on the floor trying to coax him over to me to see how he walks. He limps, and it looks like he's in pain. After a quick exam, I call the doctor, just as they're opening, and get an appt. for the same morning.
Great. Now I'm "that mom". The one who ignores her child's symptoms and makes nothing of them until it turns into a serious illness. The one who appears on a show like Dateline, warning other parents not to ignore "the signs" that she should have seen. Fabulous.
We rush to dress, eat, get cleaned up, packed up and out the door. As we're preparing to leave, Jack is walking around the house just fine. No more limping, no more tears.
Great. Now I'm "that mom" who panics over nothing and brings a perfectly fine child to the doctor's office.
I contemplate cancelling, but decide to go. He does have a fever and a rash, so he does have something going on, right?! We get to the office, park in back, and use the "back door" reserved for special people (i.e. people who's kids have a rash of unknown origin). We're ushered into an exam room, and as I undress him and explain to the nurse how he's suddenly better, I see the bottom of his feet. They're both red, but the left foot is puffy, kind of hard feeling, and warm to the touch. Jack recoils in pain when I touch it. Ah-ha! There is something wrong with his feet. I feel a sense of victory -- quickly followed by a sense of "wait a minute. My poor kid has something wrong with his feet!"
Now I'm "that mom" again. The one that ends up on Dateline.
The doctor comes in and agrees that the fever is probably immunization-related, and the rash is probably fever-related. But what about the feet thing? Was he walking barefoot on pavement? No. Somewhere where he could have burned his feet? No. Does he have bug bites? No (how would that happen on the bottoms of his feet?) Hmmmm. His ears look fine, his throat is . . . red! Ah-ha! Doctor now knows what's going on. Strep culture is negative, so it's probably . . . drum-roll please . . . hand, foot and mouth disease. What?!
Now I'm "that mom". The one whos kid has the nasty illness. The mom who must be dirty to have such scummy kids that can get such nasty diseases. Great. Nothing we can do about it, nothing to take, just give it 1-2 weeks to work its way out of the system. And stay away from other kids. Like the ones I just spent Tuesday with. You know, our "new friends" in the "new playgroup" I just joined in our "new town".
Great. Now I'm "that mom". The one who brings her sick kid to a playgroup and exposes all of the other kids. The mom that has to make phone calls to inform other parents of today's discovery. The one that swears up and down that she "didn't know" her kid was sick and that he "didn't have a fever" until the day after we saw you.
Yep, I'm "that mom". And tomorrow, I'll probably be a whole different one. Again.
July 16, 2008
Now I get it!
Earlier this month (6/30-7/5 to be exact), our family spent the 4th of July holiday week up in Door County, WI at my in-law's cottage in Bailey's Harbor. This year it was our turn to stay at the cottage, while Mary Karen and Rob's family rented a place in town. This year also marked the first time that we took the trip for a full week, not our usual long weekend. Due to the lengthened travel time from our new home in Illinois (7 hours driving time, 9 hours driving with the kids) and the fact that this would be our family vacation for the year, we decided to make a week out of it. And I'm so glad we did!
The girls loved spending time with their grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, playing in the sand and water, and visiting all of their favorite places on the penninsula (The Farm in Sister Bay, The Sandpiper Restaurant in Bailey's Harbor, Wilson's Ice Cream Shoppe in Ephraim, Novel Ideas book shop in Bailey's). Jenna's highlight of the week was "going Sea-doo-ing with daddy". Kara loved "jumping on the trampoline" that Aunt Jen and Uncle Steve had up on their beach. Jack wasn't a big fan of the sand, or the water for that matter, but he loved all of the extra attention bestowed up him by all of his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.
The highlight of the week, as usual, was the 4th of July and all of it's traditional components: being in the Bailey's Harbor parade with "Buck" and his model-A club . . . having hot dogs in the park after the parade . . . visiting the "crap" fair after the parade . . . BBQ-ing with the whole family for dinner . . . staying up late to watch the Phillips family fireworks on the beach . . . having smores by the campfire . . . staying up even later to watch the fireworks from town, across the water.
For the first several years that I spent the 4th in Door County, I have to admit I wasn't as taken with the whole thing as the rest of my husband's family. After all, it was their tradition and I never fully felt a part of it all. That is, until I had children of my own. Now I'm as excited about the trip as they are, and are finally seeing the whole thing for what it really is: the making of some of the best memories of growing up that these Muehleck grandkids will ever have. Thank you Grandma Muehleck and Buck! We love you both, and we love the memories you've allowed the third generation of your family to create in your home!
The girls loved spending time with their grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, playing in the sand and water, and visiting all of their favorite places on the penninsula (The Farm in Sister Bay, The Sandpiper Restaurant in Bailey's Harbor, Wilson's Ice Cream Shoppe in Ephraim, Novel Ideas book shop in Bailey's). Jenna's highlight of the week was "going Sea-doo-ing with daddy". Kara loved "jumping on the trampoline" that Aunt Jen and Uncle Steve had up on their beach. Jack wasn't a big fan of the sand, or the water for that matter, but he loved all of the extra attention bestowed up him by all of his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.
The highlight of the week, as usual, was the 4th of July and all of it's traditional components: being in the Bailey's Harbor parade with "Buck" and his model-A club . . . having hot dogs in the park after the parade . . . visiting the "crap" fair after the parade . . . BBQ-ing with the whole family for dinner . . . staying up late to watch the Phillips family fireworks on the beach . . . having smores by the campfire . . . staying up even later to watch the fireworks from town, across the water.
For the first several years that I spent the 4th in Door County, I have to admit I wasn't as taken with the whole thing as the rest of my husband's family. After all, it was their tradition and I never fully felt a part of it all. That is, until I had children of my own. Now I'm as excited about the trip as they are, and are finally seeing the whole thing for what it really is: the making of some of the best memories of growing up that these Muehleck grandkids will ever have. Thank you Grandma Muehleck and Buck! We love you both, and we love the memories you've allowed the third generation of your family to create in your home!
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