Worth the Wait

We recently purchased a little Apple TV box and a Netflix subscription and its amazing to have so many choices for things to watch in our cable/satellite-free house.  The kids have every episode of Super Why and Diego to pick from at TV time, and Bill and I are working our way through the entire Star Trek: Next Generation series (super geeky I know, but it reminds us of our youth).  Having all this media at our fingertips has given me a little pause for thought - not just about the temptation to watch more TV, but the possible deeper implications of the quick-access technology that I love so well.

I generally find waiting to be a pain.  This is why I love shopping and banking online and having my iphone, with access to the whole world, in my pocket.  I know that this instant access can be a dangerous thing - sucking away our time on facebook, enticing us with even better technology (there is an ipad out there somewhere with my name on it...) and enabling us to fill every second of the day with something, just because its there.  But, more than that, I've begun to wonder about the loss of the wait itself.

By bypassing the "wait", what could we be missing? Every time we take care of something online, we could be missing the chance to interact with real people.  Who knows when you might make a meaningful connection with someone?  Waiting gives us tiny blank spaces in our day that could be used for philosophizing, self-reflection or day dreaming.  Waiting also gives you the opportunity to really appreciate something. Think about when you used to wait for an album to be released and then making the trip to the music store to buy it.  Remember the magic of unsealing it and pouring over the liner notes for the first time?  Downloading music is so convenient, but very lackluster in my opinion.

Even more significant, I think we may be losing the ability to live gracefully in the gray areas of life.  Waiting 9 months to learn the sex of your baby (we didn't), staying up all night with your sick child without the ability to diagnose him via the internet, waiting to share good or bad news without the instant convenience of a cell phone - these are all opportunities to develop inner strength, listen to our intuition, relinquish control, increase our faith in God and rely on others for support.  

Sadly, I find that when I do have to wait for something, without the comfort of researching or expediting the process via technology, I don't handle it well.  With my haste to give up waiting, I have lost patience for the times when I really need it. 

I don't see myself giving up my cell phone or cancelling our internet service anytime soon, but I do hope to make an effort to let myself wait and wonder more. Who knows what I may discover when I do?

Into the Deep End

Under the clear blue water, I watch the neat stripe of green tiles curve slowly as they descend into the deep end.  I hear only my breath and the faint sounds of my limbs disrupting the surface of the water.  I feel only the coolness that surrounds me, the burn in my muscles and the pounding of my heart.  I think only of the mechanics of my movements; no extraneous thoughts distract me.  I have become a swimmer.  I don't claim to be very good at it, but I've recently come to the conclusion that if you are doing something regularly, you earn the right to attach it to your identity.  

Give me a yoga or pilates mat any day, but put me in a pair of running shoes and I'll run straight to the couch.  I simply don't enjoy most forms of cardiovascular fitness. The thought of working out amidst a sea of exercisers, bobbing up and down on stairsteppers, eliptical machines and treadmills at the gym (check out Out of My Comfort Zone for the story of my gym-joining fiasco), is enough to make me head for the nearest exit. So, thinking that swimming might be a better option, I began taking adult lessons in October.  I already knew how to swim, at least I did when I completed my lessons at the age of 14, but since it had been 20+ years since I'd actually propelled myself down the length of a lap pool, I thought I could use a refresher course.  Getting into the water for that first trial of crawl stroke under the watchful eye of my instructor was a feat in and of itself, but I discovered that it was kind of like riding a bike.  I did sort of remember how.

After a couple of months of lessons and reading on the subject, I have been swimming laps on a regular basis (except for a little hiatus in December...).  It is very hard work, but rewarding in ways that I would not have guessed.  You can't fake it in the pool, its just plain painful when you're out of practice (it is still painful each and every time for me), but you can really see your progress.  As I count the tiles at the end of the lane to keep track of  my laps, I'm amazed to see my numbers grow with each workout.  That sense of accomplishment is a gift in the midst of my harried days with the kids.  When I get to the end of most days, I realize that I didn't finish what I set out to do - it seems I make efforts in every direction, but don't end up completing anything.  I know that this is a side effect of life with small children, but it slowly chips away at my sense of self worth.  On the days that I swim, I have one little achievement to tuck away in my mind and draw strength from when I'm feeling defeated.

But for me, the most seductive part of swimming is the quiet.  No one is talking or whining or screaming or pulling on me.  There is no technology to distract me - my iphone is safely locked away.  Its just me in my unflattering fitness suit, blue swim cap and goggles.  And for the first time, I don't really care if anyone is watching me.

I have found my bliss in the quiet blue water.  Where will you find yours?

A View from the Play Dough Tower

We waited nearly a decade before starting a family and it was a good choice for us.  It enabled me to stay home with the kids, and I think I was much more secure in my parenting choices than I would have been had I had my kids when I was younger.  Though now, with a 2 year-old in the house and my 36th birthday looming,  I wonder if I would be a little less tired and crabby if I were 25...

Regardless, my husband and I had many years to observe other families with small children and formulate distinct opinions about what parents should and should not do.  Of course, with about 16 years of higher education between the two of us, how could we help but be more enlightened?  Well, over the last five years we have developed an affinity for the taste of crow.

And so, I give you my list of all the things I said I would not do, but of course have done:
1.  "I will never drive a minivan"
We caved and purchased our van before Emory was even born.  The suicide doors on our Honda Element were not ideal for car seats.

2.  "I will not feed my children 'kid food', they will eat what we do"
At age two, when Oliver's favorite cuisine was Indian, we knew he would never be a picky eater.  Unfortunately, by the time he was three, his food faves had devolved to pasta, pb&j, and hotdogs (at least we bought nitrate-free).   

3. "We will never listen to kiddie music"
The only CD's in my car right now are kids' CD's.   I have become somewhat of a kids' music connoisseur and have discovered some awesome artists.  I admit that I frequently catch myself still listening to the kid stuff when they aren't in the car.

4. "I will not let our kids play with electronic toys"
Uh, that lasted maybe 6 months.  Not something we encourage, but simply unavoidable.

5.  "I will never use the TV as a babysitter"
I do monitor the TV pretty carefully, but come on, it works so well in a pinch.

6. "I will not yell at my kids"
No comment.

7. "I will never open a box or bag of food in the store before I have purchased it"
Its only happened a couple of times, honest.  Fussy children have a way of altering your sense of propriety.

8. "I will not subject friends/family to "talking" to my not-yet-verbal babies on the phone"
But he is just so cute, of course people want to "talk" to him, right?

9. "I will not wear "mom" clothes?"
I frequently throw a coat over my pj's and drive Oliver to school.  This would be fine, except I actually park and get out of my car to watch him walk in.  Fortunately my glasses disguise the pillow creases on my face.  I do, however, draw the line at "mom jeans".

10. "I will not lose myself as I raise my kids"
I think this is inevitable when you stay home, but I do have hope that I'll resurface someday!

So, there you have it.  My child-rearing ideals haven't necessarily changed, but I now understand the difference between theory and practice. Parenting has the uncanny ability to keep you honest!

Rising to the Occasion

I really, really don't like winter in Minnesota.  You would think that after living here for nearly a decade, I would have acclimated somewhat by now. But, my formative years as a California girl seem to have instilled in me a lifelong intolerance for cold.  I do enjoy watching the snow fall through the window as I sip on something warm and tromping around in a newly fallen snow, but the day to day ice and mess really get me down.  My feelings have only intensified as, with the addition of children to my life,  I must now wrangle little wriggling extremities into various fleeced items each and every time we leave the house.

Fortunately, we have had a really mild winter so far this year, which I am viewing as a sign from God that it is possible for me to continue living here.  Or, it could just be global warming...  Anyway, as I write, it is a balmy 46 degrees up here in MN.  This morning, I could not deprive my kids of the much needed time outside, so I bundled them up and sent them out into the backyard this morning.  I wasn't really planning to stay and play - I can watch them from the kitchen, so I thought I would just get some stuff done inside while they ran around.  The dirty patches of ice and snow that cover the shaded parts of our yard don't hold the same allure for me as for little boys I guess.  So, I headed out with wet hair to just to open the garage so they could get toys out.  But, after they were well-equipped and I turned to head inside, I saw that they needed just a little help getting started.

So, I ran inside to get a hat to cover my cold head...

Then I stood around a took a few pics with my iphone so that Daddy could see them out in the yard.  But, the kids seemed to need help filling their buckets with snow.

So, I ran inside to get a pair of light gloves.  No need for the heavy ones since I'd just be there a few minutes.

Then, we decided to make snow castles and I noticed my gloves were getting wet and my fingers were cold.

So, I ran inside to put my put my thicker fleece gloves on.

Then, our castles turned into towers and in order to get enough snow, I had to tromp around all over the yard and my shoes were getting wet.

So, I ran inside to put my boots on.

Then, I had the brilliant idea of making a snow pile at the bottom of our little slide so the kids could land in it.  This of course necessitated lots of snow scooping and collecting, and my fleece gloves were getting wet.

So, I ran inside to get my serious, waterproof snow gloves.

Then, we played snow soccer and little Emory couldn't run or kick in his bulky pants and boots, so I picked him up and used him like a foosball guy.  Our fun ended in a snow ball fight, initiated by me - I don't generally like these, but the snow was such a perfect consistency that I couldn't resist.

Before I knew it, 45 minutes were gone, and the kitchen was still a mess.  But, my boys were pink-cheeked and smiling, and Oliver said "see Mom, I told you playing in the snow was fun" and I knew I had made the right choice.

I am amazed at how my kids encourage me to get out of my comfort zone and do stuff I don't really think I want to do.  In the end, it turned out to be exactly what I needed.

My New Year's Unresolutions

Okay, back on the blog.  It was a crazy few months in which I discovered that waiting to write until after all my "stuff" is done = never writing.  So, time to leave the laundry in the basement, and spend some time on this.  I have really, really missed it.

I have never been much for New Year's Resolutions - better not to make them than to deal with the guilt of not keeping them!  So, I would like to offer an alternative. Rather than taking stock of my shortcomings, I have decided to spend a little time thinking about the things I can do.  This is not exercise in self-flattery - believe me, that's not really an issue for me - rather a conscious avoidance of self-denigration.

And so, here is my list of what I Can Do.  This is not a list of what I Should Do or Used to Be Able to Do (that would be an exercise in frustration only to be faced with a stiff drink in hand), but rather what I, here on the couch watching 30 Rock reruns, Can Do.

I Can...

1. Write a blog!
2. Make pancakes from scratch without a recipe.
3. Rough house with my boys better than anyone.
4. Make my kids smile.
5. Buy gifts that people like.
6. Create things with my hands.
7. Sing.
8. Hem a pair of dress pants by hand.
9. Make lunch sculptures.
10. Take a temperature with a kiss on the forehead rather than a thermometer (A.K.A. the Mometer).
11. Remember all the words to the songs my mom sang to me as a child (and sing them to my babies).
12. Give birth without drugs/intervention (this is not a judgement of anyone else, just something that I find personal strength in).
13. Read books to my kids when I really don't feel like it.
14. Swim a pretty decent freestyle, breast stroke and back stroke.
15. Learn new things.
16. Resist the urge to nag.
17. Drive confidently in the city  (not something I could always do)
18. Make a pretty cool super hero costume out of an old t-shirt.
19. Overlook mistakes my kids (or husband) make.
20. Choose to focus on the positive.

Funny how the unresolution, can kind of turn into a resolution...

Happy New Year!

Rush to Slow Down

Lazy days of  lounging around in jammies, pancakes whenever we felt like it and flip flops have given way to early mornings, hurried breakfasts and shoes and socks.  It has taken a couple of weeks to adjust to the new school schedule - hench the dearth of blog posts - but the dust is finally settling.  Oliver loves kindergarten and I am coming to terms with the fact that he will no longer allow me to come into his classroom with him in the morning (sniff sniff).  I find it odd though, that for all of the rigidity and rush in our days now, I have been forced to slow down.

For all of Emory's little life, he has shared everything with his brother.  Oliver was in preschool a few days a week, but between morning naps and errands, we rarely had time to kill.  Now we have 3 1/2 hours together every day. Shopping with Emory isn't really working right now, so that option is out.  Its been a long time since I have been home alone for hours with a toddler, and I forgot how taxing it is to be the sole entertainment for a little one.  The house is so quiet and Emory just clings to me.  We both miss our Oliver dearly.  As Emory said in the car as we drove away from school the other day, "need Oliver... miss Oliver...snuggle Oliver."

After a few days of feeling frustrated by my inability to do anything, even shower, without Oliver around to provide some distraction for his brother, I had a realization.  I finally have the chance to get to know my little Emory.  I'm a SAHM, of course I know my kids, but I have the chance to see who Emory is on his own.  He will be two in just a couple of weeks, and seeing him outside of his brother's shadow is amazing.  We have had some lovely walks, playtime and snuggles together.  While Oliver is obviously a more sophisticated conversationalist, I adore Emory's jumbled attemps at communication.  I am learning what he really likes to do and what he is uniquely good at.  We are taking a little music class together and its fun to see his budding musical talent (he can already match pitch!).

I still have to remind myself (frequently) to relax when I start feeling anxious about all of the things I'm not getting done, but its hard to find anything more worthwhile than the feel of a snuggly little guy on your lap and the smell of his curly blonde head tucked under your chin.

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