First Day

"Felt so nervous in the morning light,

Still Mom said it would be alright,
But I had  giant -sized butterflies on that first day..."


And mom told me, 'when you first came,
Into this world we felt the same.
We had giant-sized butterlies on that first day'...


Then she opened the back seat door,
And told me what butterflies are for.
That they were meant to fly;
They were meant to be your guide..."

- Justin Roberts (Giant-Sized Butterflies from his album Pop Fly)

A side-walk chalk message for our guy: Like a caterpillar coming out of a cocoon, today you get your wings.  Have a great first day of school!

To my Oliver on your very first day of school:

Today my heart is full of pride and happiness on this special day.  I hope that you will take with you the lessons we've tried to teach: be kind to others, be guided by your Christian faith, and make yourself proud.  While it may seem like you have had to do all the learning these last 5 years, you have been teaching me all the while.

Before you came along, I didn't know what it was like to be a mother. You have taught me that I have more capacity for love than I ever thought possible.  You helped me discover my own strength, tenacity and confidence.  Before you came along, the years slipped by me without much notice.  You have brought fullness to my days and helped me to rediscover the joy in simple things.  You have made me laugh and reminded me that humor is an essential part of life.  You have also made me cry - for joy, sorrow and frustration.  But, along with the tears has come an understanding that I must relish the highs and get through the lows.

Sweet boy, I also want you to know that although you are taking little steps toward becoming your own person, I will always be right behind you.  You have many years of school ahead of you and so much to learn, from your Dad and I, your teachers and the world around you.  Enjoy the road with all its twists and turns and never lose your spirit.  You are a joy to us; go out and share that joy with everyone!

With all my love,

Mom

Happy Hour

I remember a time in the distant past, when the words "happy hour"conjured up images of drinks and laughs with friends or colleagues.  A time to shake off the work woes of the day, kick off the weekend, or simply unwind.  Now the words have a significantly different meaning for me.

The new "happy hour" is the wedge of time between my children's bedtime and my own.  Yes, this is the beautiful time of my day when I relax, chat with my husband over a glass of wine and catch up on my reading.  Ouch, I think I fell asleep and hit my head on the keyboard!  And, reading what I just wrote, I must have been sleep-typing again.  The hours between the kids' bedtime and my own are more like a jumble of dishes, laundry, laying on the couch for a few minutes of mindless TV, and then forcing myself to get up and do stuff.  And of course the feelings of guilt that I am too tired to tidy the house so that I can wake with a lovely fresh start in the morning.

Well, I'm on a mission to bring a little of the happy back to that precious kid-free time of the day.  I have analyzed the situation and realized that I simply cannot keep up with the mess generated by the two, make that three (sorry honey) tornadic forces that I live with.  Could I better organize my time and plan my tasks in order to get everything done?  Possibly, but I've tried that, and I still end up exhausted and irritated.  It dawned on me a couple of days ago that I am sitting on a relatively untapped source of renewable energy...my children!  Yes, I have always known that chores are very important for building independence, giving children a sense of belonging within the family, developing a good work ethic, etc.  But, while I sporadically seek to involve my kids in the household work, I invariably revert to doing things myself because its faster, and frankly I'm better at it.  Well, no more!  Oliver is starting kindergarten next week, and I would be insulting his intelligence to assume that he can't take over some specific jobs around the house.

So, he and I sat down and created a chart for his tasks.  He will begin receiving a small allowance if he is able to manage his responsibilities without complaints or reminders.  He is very excited and is already making a plan for saving up enough quarters to buy something that he really wants.  You may be against the idea of an allowance or an allowance based on chores, but I figure it mirrors reality - you work, you get paid.  Yes, I do think that being part of a family and pitching in is what its really about, but he already understands that and is usually a willing helper.

Last night when I went to kiss Oliver goodnight, he said that he had a new plan for keeping his bed made.  He had just made it and was planning to sleep on top of his quilt so that he never had to make it again.  A little misguided, but he's trying!  He did a spectacular job of cleaning up his room before bed tonight - no "teamwork" required.  I hope that it sticks.

Even little Emory is getting in the game.  Like all toddlers, he loves to help out, but I am taking it one step further with him.  When he decides to empty out a cabinet, or throw his blocks across the room, despite his still adorable screams of "NO!", he is required to clean up his mess (with help) before leaving the room or moving on to the next thing.  This should make a huge difference in the amount of mess that is left in his wake.

The biggest challenge is sticking to the new plan, but with Oliver's dream of a new lego set and my dream of a leisurely glass of wine with my husband, we might just make it work.

Identity Crisis

We are having family pictures taken tomorrow at a beautiful location in the country.  Bill is a great photographer, but we suffer from the same problem as most families - we have thousands of pictures of our kids and about two of our family.  I put together cute matching outfits for the boys, cheesy maybe, but I am trying to take full advantage of the fact that they still like to dress alike.  Now I just needed to find something for me to wear.

Like most moms, I rarely have time to shop for clothes for myself.  And, when I do have time, there are a thousand other things I would rather be doing.  I have never been a fashionista, but I always used to enjoy shopping.  Now, when I go shopping I feel like a mole, poking its head up above ground, blinking at the sunlight, and looking around confusedly.  I'd like to think that since I've been staying home full-time, I haven't completely let myself go (I don't think I wear mom jeans...do I?), but I am clearly out of touch with the fashion world.

Tonight I had about an hour in between dinner and bedtime in which to sneak out and try to locate some kind of garment for my upper half that would not be hideous in pictures.  Pressed for time as I was, I ran to the closest option, Old Navy, down the street.  If those of you who know where I live are wondering why I didn't go to Target, I had already exhausted that possibility.  Anyway, into the mostly deserted Old Navy I went.  I looked around trying to get ideas, found a few things that might work, and headed to the dressing room.  While in there, I overheard the college age employees discussing their majors and future career plans (I am glad that they remain optimistic that they will actually be able to get jobs when they graduate), and I started feeling old.  For some reason I seem to hang onto the idea that I'm not too far out of college.  In reality, I remember the year Old Navy opened, and the cute little coeds were probably about Oliver's age at the time.

Feeling old and completely out of touch with the fashion world does not promote a lovely shopping experience.  I then discovered that the loose, flowing style of clothing, that apparently culture finds attractive now, is a little too close to maternity wear for my comfort.  Sure, the clothes probably look on me about how they'd look on anyone, but one must be mindful that if worn when you are out and about with two young kids, people may indeed be questioning if you are expecting a third.  I'd much rather be wearing something form fitting that leaves, in my case, less to the imagination.

What troubles me most is not current fashion trends, but the fact that, when I do go to shop for myself, I don't really even know what I like anymore.  In truth, I am more comfortable out and about with my kids, because for better or worse, they have come to define me.  This may just be a product of being in the trenches with little ones, but it does give me pause for thought.  I went to college, then grad school, then had a real job, and then dropped out of the work world to stay home.  Being a mom changes you, but I think that staying home changes you even more, especially if it wasn't always what you planned to do.  Its so easy to lose yourself along the way.

I did find something to wear for the pictures, and as I was checking out, watched the cashier next to me, flirt shamelessly with the young man she was helping.  He was returning home after finishing graduate school with a masters in counseling.  The girl thought this was "so cool" because she was going to major in some social work or something...  I just wanted to chime in "hey, I went to graduate school too!".  But, sidestepping the obvious embarrassment that this would have caused me, I simply paid for my sweater and went home to put my kids in bed.  Whether I like it or not, my identity right now is "mommy".  Maybe I could work on the fashion thing though...

Shavasana

So, I sucked up (or in rather) and went back to the gym today.  It was a much better experience this time around!  I took my first yoga class in a couple of years - ugh, has it really been that long? - and discovered, much to my chagrin, that I am really, really out of shape.  I'm very flexible, have pretty decent form, and pretty much no strength or endurance.  My Cobra was more like a garter snake, my Tree almost toppled, my Warrior was a little shaky, my Fierce was not so fierce and my side plank just plain stank.  But, I got through it and am happy to be sore.

I knew that I needed to get back into classes to help rebuild my energy and strength, but what I had forgotten about was the Shavasana.  For those of you unfamiliar with yoga, Shavasana or Corpse Pose is done at the end of the class. You lie on your back, close your eyes and fully relax.  Several years ago, when I first started taking pilates/yoga at a studio, I first encountered it.  During my early practices of  Shavasana, I remember thinking,  "Wow, this is weird...I feel like an idiot...is the teacher looking at me?...am I even doing this right?"  But, as time went on, I began to look forward to these small spots of peace amidst very hectic days.

Today I was so focused on getting through class without falling off of my mat and causing some sort of human domino effect, that I forgot one of the most important reasons why I was there.  Yes, it is good to exercise and get time away from the kids, but the chance to clear out my head for a few precious minutes was the best part.  I forgot how rejuvenating it is to take a little time just to "be".

So, in the spirit of starting the week well, and being more well in general, I am going to make an effort to take a few minutes every day to quiet my mind and just breathe.  In small doses, doing nothing can be so much more valuable than doing everything.

Out of My Comfort Zone

For your enjoyment, a tale of my ineptitude:

I was painfully shy as a child.  One of my few memories from preschool days at a parent co-op nursery school goes like this:  I looked at the calendar of planned activities with my mom and discovered to my great delight that we would be making playdough pizzas (basically playdough smashed into a lid with colored pasta smashed into the dough).  But, when I got to school and found that the leader was one of the dads, who seemed to me at the time to be of absolutely gigantic proportions, I was too petrified to participate.  I wanted to make that pizza so badly, an apparently scarred myself for life because I couldn't force myself to do it.

Anyway, as an adult I'm no longer very shy, but I do still have a GREAT discomfort with new situations.  As part of my mission for self-improvement, I decided that it was time to join a gym.  I used to belong to the Y, but I had a friend who I went to yoga classes and kids swimming lessons with.  She showed me where everything was, and I felt fairly comfortable.    

Now that Oliver will be in school every morning this year, I thought it was time to give myself a chance to work out regularly, and let Emory experience a little separation from me in the childcare area (which also forces me to come to terms with my germophobia, but that's a whole other story...).  So, I picked a local gym with lots of amenities, and forced myself to go over there last night to join and take a tour.  The representative I met with insisted that I sign up with an appointment to meet with a trainer and discuss my goals and the services offered, etc.  I asked him if this was a physical thing and he said it was more of a meeting.  I was already thinking ahead to attire.  I really did not want to do this, but decided it would be a good chance for the kids to try the childcare, and I could take them for a swim.

So, this morning we headed out.  I stopped by Target on the way to pick up a padlock for a locker.  Little did I know, the club has the fancy schmancy lockers that have their own keys.  Error #1.  We arrived and even after asking for directions, wandered around confusedly until I located the childcare center.  I dropped the kids off without a hitch and Emory seemed comfortable, so I headed upstairs for my appointment.  Much to my chagrin, I discovered that I had to meet with the trainer in the actual fitness area (I assumed we would just sit in an office somewhere).  This would be fine, except that I chose to wear a skirt and lovely little sporty maryjane-type sandals.  Error #2.  I wanted to get the kids to the pool easily, so they were in their swim trunks already and I put my suit on under my clothes.  The skirt was perfect over my little board shorts, but not so good for what I discovered was a, gulp, fitness assessment.

The trainer looked at me like I was a total idiot, but I relaxed a little when she lead me over to a quiet table to conduct a questionnaire.  On the way, I dropped the pager the child care people had given me and the clip popped off the back.  Error #3.  I scrambled to pick up the pieces and then we proceeded with the interview,  during which time I tried to explain convincingly that my diet consists solely of rolled oats, greek yogurt, produce and lean protein.  I neglected to mention the huge bowl of chocolate-peanut butter ice cream I ate at 10 pm last night, and yesterday's lunch, which was tortilla chips out of the giant Costco bag at 3 pm (does it help that they were organic?).

Our discussion ended far too quickly and she led me back to the fitness area.  At which point, to my utter horrification, she wanted to me to get on a treadmill and do push-ups!  Due to my inappropriate choice of attire, I vehemently declined.  Error #4. I was, however, subjected to the junior high PE class style skin fold and sit and reach tests.  I wanted to run screaming from the trainer, but instead hiked up my skirt to be pinched and prodded, sat on the floor and stretched over the stupid box, and stood on the scale. All in my silly skirt and sandals.

As I stood wanting to bolt, she put all my numbers into the computer and came up with some stats about my current fitness level.  The scores showed that my metabolic age is 25, of course, as she informed me, they were incomplete due to my inability to complete the cardiovascular assessments (I suspect that would have upped my metabolic age to about 45).  She was also quick to inform me that although I am pretty thin, I could reduce my body fat.  Yes, sherlock, thank you for mentioning that.  Me and probably 98 percent of all women would like to do that!  She recommended a course of strength and cardio training, and suggested I sign up for personal training since it has been awhile since I've exercised regularly.  Come on, lady, just let me take my yoga classes in peace!

I finally got out of there, picked up the kids and headed to the family locker room to get ready to swim.  This was the point at which I discovered the key locks on the lockers.  Okay, so we put our stuff in and I tried to lock it.  But the key wouldn't turn.  Error #5. Oliver tried it, I tried it, Oliver tried again, I tried it again and again and again, and then I stood around thinking what to do.  My pride was barely intact at this point and I really didn't want to go out and ask for help in figuring out how to work this advanced piece of technology.  So, I decided maybe we should just lug all our stuff to the pool with us.  Fortunately, someone came into the locker room and I asked her for help.  She was very kind and said, "Didn't you try your card"?  I thought: What card?  Where? Did I have to go somewhere to get one?  What should I do?  Oh - my membership card.  What do you do with that?  She showed me how to insert it into the back of the lock so that I could remove the key.  She also showed me that the key had a safety pin back that I could attach to my clothing.  Okay, so we got our key, I found some towels, and we headed out to the pool.

We had a nice swim and then came back to the family locker room to shower off.  By this point, I thought I was in the clear,  but no.  Emory was running around in our dressing room naked and slipped on the water from the shower, fell flat on his back and banged his head.  Error #6. He was okay, but I'm sure other people wondered about the shrieking coming from our room.  He recovered and we all managed to get dressed, though Oliver dropped his shirt in a puddle and couldn't wear it.  Whatever, I just wanted to get out of there.  I ran our suits through the water extractor (which I knew how to use only from our last gym membership) and was getting ready to leave, when I discovered I didn't have my bathing suit top.  I realized I left it in the shower room.  Error #7. No problem, I would just go get it.  Oh no!  Someone was in there and the door was locked!  I couldn't really knock on the door and ask a potentially naked stranger to hand me my suit, so we stood around like idiots waiting for them to come out.  He finally did and I sent Oliver in to snatch the suit.  Finally, our troubles had ended and we headed home.

The gym has called me twice already today to welcome me and try to get me to sign up for a 5k, a cycling team, swimming lessons, and yoga workshops.  Wow, that combined with all the hours of personal training I apparently need is going to keep me very busy.  Ok, people, just LEAVE ME ALONE! Let me regroup and mentally prepare myself for my first group yoga class.  I will have to figure out which mat to bring, and should I even bring my own?  Is it gross to use the ones they provide?  Should I bring my keys/wallet into the yoga room with me, or should I put them in a locker?  Its been a while since I've done yoga, I'll look like an idiot for sure. Sigh.

At least I did it, I joined the gym.  Now I just have to muster the courage to go back...

One of the Boys

Before I had kids, I never really pictured myself with boys.  I have just one sister and so our house was female-dominated growing up.  We were so thrilled to have our first son, but I wasn't sure how I would do at mommying a boy.  Once the second came along, I was feeling pretty confident.  Now, most days, I just feel like one of the guys.  So, here's a list of things I've learned about life with little boys.

You know you're a mom with boys when:

1. By the time your son is about 2 1/2, you can accurately identify any construction or road building vehicle that you see.

2. If you're in a hurry to get somewhere, you always avoid walking near any area that might contain sticks or rocks.

3. You find rocks in pockets, in the washing machine, in the car, in your childs' room, in your room, etc.

4. You are so engrossed in building a track for cars or trains that you look up and discover that the kids got bored and left the room.

5. You can make a super hero costume out of an old t-shirt and socks.

6. You have actually made a joke about poop (or worse, laughed at one).

7.  You know that underpants on the head is always funny.

8.  You can tell the difference between an Autobot and a Decepticon.

9.  Your kid got hurt because you were playing too rough.

10.  You know that boys like to play with guns - it doesn't matter if you don't allow any in your house, a celery stick works just fine.

I have tons of fun with my little guys, but the best part of being a mom to boys is getting to be the most special lady in their lives. Well, for a few more years at least...

Legos, Food and Sleep

Legos, food and sleep are the three things that Oliver currently needs to live.

Oliver is obsessed with Legos.  I'm sure this is true of most 5 year old boys, but for him, his imagination has found its voice among his bin of brightly colored bricks.   The Legos Oliver has acquired over the last few years have mostly entered our house in neatly packaged little sets.  We have had many hours of fun following the little diagrams and constructing the vehicles and robots pictured on the box.  I always expect Oliver to play with the thing we just painstakingly built, but the longest I've seen one last is about 24 hours.  He adds to them, disassembles them, puts things back in different places and repurposes the parts for other creations.

This is very telling of who Oliver is and how different he is from me.  I consider myself to be a creative person, but if I built an awesome fire truck, complete with little firefighters and accessories, I would keep it just as it was for a long time.   I am a rule following, make it perfect, color-inside-the lines kind of girl.  He is a figure out a way to get around the rules, make it different, coloring books are too constrictive kind of kid.  It used to kind of irritate me that I would spend an hour putting a Lego set together for Oliver and 5 minutes later he would take it all apart.  However, now that Oliver is older and more able to make his own creations, I can see that his imagination cannot be confined within the strictures of perfect design.  He is not himself if he can't make something his own or turn it into something new.

In the same way, what manifests itself as defiance or non-conformity in his behavior, I am now beginning to see simply as a need to do things his own way.  While we still butt heads a lot, I am learning how to meet him where he's at, rather than expecting him to visit me in Let's Be Perfect Land.  Its funny how watching the little things your kids do can provide the greatest information about who they really are and how to relate to them. They say the that art imitates life, I guess in this case Lego imitates life.

Legoland at the Mall of America (we went there for the first time today)

The helper bot creation.  This photo does not do it justice - it has three arms and a tail with a drill on the end.

Is It Worth It?

I just realized that I haven't written any posts since last week.  I was too busy with fun stuff over the weekend and too occupied with other projects this week to sit down and write something.

The "other projects" have me thinking more and more about my priorities and if I am truly putting forth effort in the right areas of my life.  I am an all or nothing kind of girl.  I can pour a huge amount of effort into making something, researching something or planning something fabulous, but then feel like I am so behind with everything else because of all this other stuff I "had" to do.  I think it is very easy to expend a lot of well-intentioned energy on something that, in the end, doesn't really add much to your life.  I am discovering that before taking on something new, it is really important to figure out ahead of time if it is worth sacrificing time in other areas in order to do it.  Even more, I think it is worth evaluating where all of your time and energy goes in normal daily life to determine if it truly matches your priorities.  For me, I know that I put a lot of time and thought into little things that just don't matter much.

In my quest for simplification, I may just need to curb some of my creativity in favor of a chance to relax and possibly go to bed a little earlier (which unfortunately I have not yet managed to do).  I have been taking vitamins though!  Little changes adding up to big ones, remember?