The First Last Day of School

Jack's last day of preschool for the year was last week. I am happy to have him home for the summer. Surprisingly, I am not a bit concerned with Jack's academic development. Now, don't be judging me! I do believe education is important. I am just not worried about it at age four. Not one darn bit.

Yet, Jack learned a lot this year. He knows his letters and lots of numbers and most of the months and days of the week. He learned to deal with kids that hit and even started to hit others. Preschool brought home new behavioral issues and humor filled with poops and toots.

For me, I just want time to slow down. I don't want him to grow up so quickly. I am happy he still wants me to carry him down the stairs. That if my hair is up when I put him to bed, he asks me to take it down so that he can touch it while we do "jokes and kidding". I love that he likes to cuddle on the couch in the morning and my kisses still fix most of his booboos.

Jack's first year of school was interesting. I learned that I stink at school projects and being on top of what to bring and when to bring it. So much work for the mamas! I learned that when I hear about another kid knocking Jack into a table that a Mama Bear instinct kicks in that makes me want to kick butt. I learned that I am much more concerned with Jack's character and protecting his innocence than I am his formal educational achievements. Although, I am not sure I would have guessed any of this about myself.

Jack made his first school friends this year. His first friends that weren't influenced by my social circles. They are funny to watch, chatting before school. Sharing information like some dinosaurs eat other dinosaurs. And Spiderman can climb up walls. A tiny picture inside the four-year-old boy mind. So sweet. So small. Yet growing up more everyday.

I ran across this blog yesterday about a mom watching her oldest turn 18, ready to head out from home. I can't even imagine a life without little shoes, spilled milk, Matchbox cars, and blond hair floating through my days.

I had no idea having kids would be such a mix of intense frustration and overwhelming love. Can I stop the clock? Can I just do this year over again instead of time passing to the next?

My sweet boy finished his first year of school. I love this little sugar bean. He is my heart. Oh the places you will go little man. Oh the places you will go.

An Ocean View

I love the ocean.

I am humbled standing in the sand looking out. So small and insignificant. A freeing thought. I am just a speck. Wading in the water feels like a baptism. Wash away the stress. Wash away the doubt. Just breathing sea air. Watching my children discover the magnitude of the waves. Seeing them laugh. Loving their simple smiles at warmth and sunshine. I watched them fall in love.

Finding My Rainbows

Many of you know that I have often said that I never wanted children. This kind of sounds like an insult to the little babes sleeping peacefully upstairs in their warm beds. This also kind of sounds like an insult to the many loving women I know who were mothers in spirit long before they invited little ones into their homes to raise. My statement was never intended as an insult.

You see, I have chronic insecurity. Somehow I seem to push through and even thrive in spite of it. But, it does stir up a storm of anxiety. Growing up in a controlling and unstable home makes one anxious. It also made me feel completely unqualified to mother. 

I am not denigrating my parents. But the truth is the truth, and my truth is that I was not protected. I was exposed too early to too much. For a time we were nomads. It was when I was around Jack's age. We had a few hard years. These were followed by more hard years although with more geographic stability. 

Freedom arrived in the form of college. I moved away from a hometown where I always felt I wasn't quite enough. Truth be told, I haven't looked back. I just kept moving west. Clemson to Atlanta to Colorado. Trying to outrun myself, my pain. 

As for becoming a mother, I just didn't want the responsibility. Not because I needed to focus on my career, not because it would get in the way of travel time or reading time or bubble bath time. Although, let's face it, kids did end my bubble bath days. No, the responsibility I didn't want was that of their safety. I didn't want to do it unless I could guarantee they would be protected. I wanted their beginning to be different than mine. 

I thought I had reached a point where my children would be safe. We were stable. Money, home, marriage. It all seemed so right. And it was. It is. I guess I just got confused with what I could control and what I couldn't. Or maybe I just needed to learn a few lessons about letting go. 

Gracie was born with hip dysplasia. Really not a big deal unless you are the parent handing your three month old daughter to stranger to cut open. But this experience just about broke my spirit. How was it that I couldn't protect her from this pain. That was two years ago and typing those words still bring tears. That was of course hard because of the work and exhaustion. But my biggest heart break was in the knowing that I had let her down. I had not been able to keep her, so tiny and new, from her first major scar. It felt unnatural and it left a scar on me too. 

I guess I still had some things to learn because my boat wasn't done being rocked. Last year about this time Jack started having fevers. After a few months of undiagnosed fevers our pediatrician suggested that we do blood work. It was during a fever episode and I held Jack close to me while a needle entered his arm and drew out his blood. This was bad. But the worst was yet to come.

The test results showed up online on a Saturday. No doctor to call; only Google to provide information. White blood cell counts were off. Other stuff I had never heard of was high or low. Google just showed up leukemia. I wanted to rip my skin off of my body. Those were the longest 36 hours of my life. On that Monday when I spoke with Jack's doctor she assured me that Google was wrong. We needed to do blood work when Jack was not having a fever in order to confirm a diagnosis. And we needed to wait a few weeks. 

A few weeks passed and Jack had his second blood test. The results were all normal. A rare condition called PFAPA. A fever condition with no real cure and no real long term effects. He is fine. Perfectly fine. Did God hear my desperate prayers and change the outcome? Did he know that I just wanted to keep my babies safe? Did he understand that try as I may I couldn't rip off my skin and that I was stuck in this same old body living out my continued history? Or maybe I just finally learned the lesson. I cannot control it all. 

The lesson that the quality of my mothering is not tied to the quality of my raising. The lesson that my past does not determine their future. The lesson that they are protected by this momma bear. The lesson that illness, heartbreak, falls and mistakes will come to them but I will be there to hold, love and nurture. 

They are safe and I am too. And we, our little foursome, are tight. We are bonded by a force of love and dedication that may not keep all the storms at bay but do keep us looking forward to the rainbows. The decision I thought I would never make are my rainbows in the form of little faces I kiss while they sleep. 

The Star Wars Obsessed

I am not sure how it happened but over the last six months Jack went from adoring Lightening McQueen and Thomas the Train to idolizing superheroes and Star Wars. Will someone please stop the clock? Time is moving way too fast y'all.

When did this baby

turn into this little boy?

Summer is quickly approaching, well except for all of the snow, but either way school will be out soon. Although Jack only attends preschool two mornings a week, I am very excited to have him home for the summer. Lord help me when he leaves for college.

But anyway, this post is about a little boy's obsession with Star Wars, not a momma trying desperately to pause time and snuggle her growing babies.

Jack's interest started when he discovered four little Star Wars holiday ornaments in my Christmas bin. I wasn't even going to put them on the tree but sweet Jack was so darn excited that I let him hang them.

After that Jack saw his older cousins with Star Wars legos and the rest is history. He was in love. Now, I am weird about television with my kids. I don't let them see the news or adult shows at all. Sports is the only grown-up thing I will have on while they are awake. And even then I have Christian change questionable commercials.

Needless to say, I was delighted when Christian saved two Lego Star Wars movies on the DVR. Jack could watch Star Wars without actually watching Star Wars. A win for all.

My mom sent Jack money for Easter and while usually I put any money presents straight into the kids' savings account, this time I allowed Jack to shop for a toy. He bought his first Star Wars set.

Jack was in heaven. But he was not prepared for the next big Star Wars adventure. Christian showed Jack his Star Wars toys that had been stashed in the basement this entire time. Jack lost his mind. Daddy played Star Wars when he was a little boy. What is more awesome than that?

I Hate Pooh

As a mom, I am constantly searching for which issues matter and which do not. Somehow I decided that potty training and binky weaning do not matter one bit to me. Have a binky and wear diapers until you go off to college. I don't really care.

However, there are a few things that I do not tolerate. Hitting, disrespectful talk, and running away from me in public are my big ones.

Yesterday Jack and I made chocolate chip cookies while Grace napped. I am pretty laid back when I cook with my kids. I let them crack eggs, measure stuff and lick the bowls and spoons. I also always let Jack eat chocolate chips while I am mixing the ingredients.

We were finishing up the baking process and Jack asked for more chocolate chips while I poured him milk. I said no and turned to put the milk in the refrigerator. I heard Jack say, "I hate you."

I turned around to face him with my mean mommy face and sternly asked, "what did you just say to me?"

Jack replied with a scared look on his face, "I said that I hate pooh." Smart boy.

It was hard not to laugh and I didn't address the issue further. I think he got the message from my response. But his creativity did make me smile.

And I guess that is really what parenting is about for me. It isn't about a strict set of rules or severe discipline when a lesson has already been learned. For me, it is about finding ways to teach my children boundaries, respect and self-control. If a mean mommy face and a stern voice stops the behavior then it is a good day for me.