More of a Plug than a Post

Tonight we're in Nashville, for a concert by the non-profit group of which my sister is a member. The group is called Alias, and if you are in the Nashville area, and especially if you love classical music you should really try and get a chance to check them out, because it's always a treat! They only have three concerts a year, all to benefit worthy causes, but they will be performing at an event next month, called Arts and Flowers. It's a very exciting time for the group, they just got a grant from the NEA, and they're doing a recording, as well.

Because I'm a proud big sister, I'm skipping the blog tonight, and posting a link to the Alias website. Check it out!

Talk amongst yourselves- Wordless Thursday?

Oh, no she DIDN'T

But oh, yes, she did.

I need a vacation. Preferably all expenses paid, to some tropical locale like Maui or Jamaica. I need massages and time to read novels by the pool, and fruity drinks.

It's not going to happen, of course. I'm the Mama, and whoever said woman's work is never done was dead on. Today was one of those days, where I hit the ground running, and ran until Small One and I were both a bit ragged. Truthfully, it was two hours past naptime when I took her to the grocery store, which is a rookie mistake, and I know better, but sometimes, that's just the way it goes.

We walked into the grocery store, and Small began clamoring to ride in one of those ridiculous buggies with the steering wheels on the child's seat, meant to look like a car. Some of those buggies aren't bad, but this particular store has horrible ones, twice as long as a regular cart, and practically impossible to maneuver. Sometimes I'm indulgent, but today I was not. I told her no and firmly but calmly wrestled her into a cart, under the malevolent glare of several old biddies, because of course, Wednesday is when senior citizens get a discount, so they firmly believe they should be the only ones allowed in the store, I think. Silly me, forgetting.

Just as I got her settled and walked through the door, something completely unbelievable and horrifying happened. My Small, who is typically rather mature for her age, leaned over and put her MOUTH on the side of the cart. Mortified, I grabbed her upper arm and pulled her back far enough to remove her mouth from the e coli she was surely about to ingest, and she let out an impressive wail. "Yooou HURT meeeeee!" she howled, and I glared at her and informed her through clenched teeth that much worse things would happen if the noise did not stop. It stopped.

The rest of the grocery trip was uneventful- as uneventful as any grocery trip with a preschooler can be- and I'd almost forgotten the incident when we got to the register. At that point, she began begging for a balloon. Still not in an indulgent mood, I declined to troop back to the floral department for a free one, and further declined to pay for one of the pricey ones at the register.

She was mad. SO mad, that just then, she smiled prettily at the cashier to get her attention, then turned to me and loudly said, "Mommy, why do I have tears in my eyes? Oh, I remember- it's from when you grabbed my arm like THIS and hurt me really really bad." (This was accompanied by her pinching her own arm so hard it turned bright red.) I looked at the cashier, who looked back at me with a face of stone. I smiled at her. Then I fled the premises.

Small knew she was in trouble. Before we even left the store she started apologizing. I told her that if she ever did anything like that again, she would not even know what hit her, she'd be in so much trouble. Then I made her sit in silence on the way home, no music, and none of the fruity snack she'd been promised. She broke the silence occasionally, to tell me how very VERY sorry she is, and what a good girl she'll be in the future. I told her to be good in the present, by zipping her lip.

I love my children, really I do. Children are a gift from God, and I'll keep saying that as a mantra until mine are grown, because what else can I do? He didn't give me a gift receipt. But I need a vacation. Or at least a nap.

Scary Creatures

My Small One is relatively fearless. She's very active, reasonably coordinated, not intimidated by bugs or dogs, not shy or fearful or strangers. Sometimes loud noises bother her, and the first time she saw the Wizard of Oz, we had to turn it off the very moment the Wicked Witch made her appearance. But for the most part, she faces the world unafraid.

Except for the Storyteller. For some reason, she is absolutely terrified of the woman who comes to her school once a month to tell stories to the children. This is particularly strange to me because this is the same woman who taught music to the smaller children last year, when Small was on the smaller children side of the preschool, so she's a familiar face, and when she was the music teacher, there was no problem with her. But this year, it is such an issue that Small asks me to "check it out" every school day, to make sure there's no story teller before she walks into her class. She has a standing arrangement with her teachers to allow her to be the "special helper" on story day, which means she gets to stay in he classroom instead of going to hear the story. Stranger still, when we see the storyteller outside of her story telling capacity, she has no issue with her. We can only surmise that something in the animated way the stories are told just rubs her the wrong way.

Apparently, this dread of animated performers extends to clowns, as well. I think this is a fairly common phobia, because, let's face it, clowns can be pretty creepy. But it made me giggle this afternoon when I picked Small up from school.

She hopped in the car and leaned forward, hands extended, palms downward in a reassuring gesture, and said, "It wasn't a CLOWN walking up to the school. It was just a parent dressed UP as a clown."

Whew! Such a relief.

Stuck in the Middle with You

I'm extremely blessed, as a mom, with three beautiful, healthy, bright children. One of them has already left the nest, (flown the coop?), and one is still in that fun preschool stage, where everything I say and do is wonderful, and she wants me with her all the time. Mother's Day was fun yesterday, because she was so pleased and proud to present me with the little gifts she'd made in school and Sunday school.

My Middle Child, though, is the one that occupies most of my time, and most of my thoughts. She's in that phase of adolescence right now that is the complete opposite of the preschool time, where the things I say and do are moronic and embarrassing, and the thought of being touched by or seen with me is repulsive. She's having a tough time of it, too, really trying to find her way, and I'd like to help her, guide her around the potholes I can see in her path, but she can't see that. To her, I'm an obstacle, an impediment, the only thing between her and the fulfilment of her dreams.

Mothers I know, who have been there and done that, tell me it will pass, and I hope it will. I miss the closeness I used to feel with my daughter. I miss seeing her get really excited about accomplishing something. I miss feeling like I know her better than anyone else.

The truth is, despite her current struggles, I know she's a really remarkable girl. Beautiful and strong, smart and quick-witted, full of ideas and spunk, creative, gifted and with a lively imagination. I look at her, and I see all the things she doesn't realize she can be. I look at her and want desperately to be able to fast forward her through the troubled times and bring her to a place of cognition, an age of reason, where she sees the world more clearly, and understands that I am not a stumbling block but an ally, and an advocate.

The strange thing, I think, about motherhood, is the ability to see your children as all their ages at one time. I look at my Small, and see her sweet preschool face, but have a vision of the woman she'll grow to be. I look at my Oldest, and still see that tiny, funny little boy, hidden in the man he now is. I look at my Middle Child, and behind the teenager I see the soft baby, my little pig-tailed sweetheart, round faced and sunny, my chatty and funny preteen, and the woman I want her to grow into, confident, accomplished and successful. My highest goal, my biggest challenge, is to help guide her, and all my children, really, into the place God has for them, the place where they become the amazing people I know them to be.

My prayer, every day, is for strength, for wisdom, for guidance, and for perspective, with a debt of gratitude and praise for all the people they have been, are, and will become.

Is it cheating to repost my own blog?

Today is Mother's Day, and it's a strange one for me. My Oldest no longer lives here, and is unsure whether he'll "make it by" today. Middle Child spent the night with a friend on the other side of town. My Small has been very excited, bringing me gifts from preschool and Sunday school with a delighted look on her face, and she and the Man are out picking up lunch even now. But I'm not spending the day with my big kids, and I don't get to see my own mother today, (or as often as I'd like to), so it feels anticlimactic and strange.

A few days ago, I was reading through some old blogs, and came across one from Father's Day weekend last year that really struck a chord with me, as a good picture of how I feel about motherhood. So even though it may be a cheat, I want to post it again:

The last day at the mountain house, we sit on the back porch, the Small One and I, and eat cherries. The sun is low on the mountains, and it’s the time of day when the world seems benevolent and warm. I bite the cherries in half, being careful to take the seed in my half, so I can give her a seedless chunk. She’s impatient for more, but I relish the time, watching the cherry stains spread across her face and fingers.

I suddenly have the thought that this is the way I want parenting to be, but it rarely is- I always want to hand them pieces of life from which I’ve stripped the obstacles and rotten parts, and watch them enjoy themselves. The cherries I bite are sometimes not sweet, and when they’re not I throw them off the deck, so she only gets the choicest pieces. I tell her we’re throwing away the yucky cherries, and she looks at me with her trusting, not quite three year old face, and nods agreement. “We don’t like yucky cherries,” she says, “because they’re not so yummy.”

Looking into the serious eyes above the cherry stains, I have a flash of the years to come. I’m all too familiar with the difficulties ahead, having raised two other children almost to adulthood, and I want to hold her right where she is, while she still trusts me completely and loves me without reservation. I want to sit with her and listen to her say that she loves cherries because they’re red, and red is her favorite color. I want to know her favorite color. I don’t want to fight with her about tattoos and piercing and curfews, I don’t want her to assume I’m setting rules because I hate her, I don’t want to look into her face and see a hostile stranger.

I’m thinking this as she hops off her rocking chair and stubs her toe. She yelps, and I hand her a cherry half. She examines it for a minute, then looks at me and brightens up. “Thank you, Mommy,” she says, “that will make me feel better.”

Happy Mother's Day, especially to my beautiful Mama!

Jokes and Nonsense

My dad came to visit today, in the way my dad usually does, which is to say that he was passing through, flying to visit someone else, and stopped in my town for a few hours. This time was a little different, though, because he brought his new stepdaughters who are, strangely enough, relatively close in age to my two older children. (Not so strange if you realize how close in age his new wife is to me, but that's a story for another blog.)

I was happy he was bringing them, not least because Middle Child had not met them before, and had been wanting to. Come to think of it, I guess they hadn't met the Man before, either, but I totally forgot about that when they were here. He wasn't able to get off work for the wedding last year, but I forgot about that, because there were SO many weddings and other events last year that it's all a bit of a blur. M.C. was not particularly charming, unfortunately, having had a not so great week, romantically speaking.

One person that everyone has met, and enjoyed, of course, is my Small One. Today she was in rare form, running all over Centennial Olympic Park, singing songs in the back seat, telling everyone her long name, and just generally entertaining the crowd. We decided to take them on a tour of Decatur, since that is our favorite hang out spot, and M.C. brightened considerably and suggested a pizza place for lunch.

This suited everyone but Small. "Noooo!" she said, "I don't want PIZZA!" I'm not sure what that was about. It could be because last week, in Nashville, she had a bit of a run in with jalapenos on a pizza, which caused her to squeal and rake at her tongue with her fingers, but I didn't think she'd been traumatized by that!

We assured her that she wouldn't be required to eat pizza, that we were certain there were other things on the menu. But as we walked, one or the other of us would say something about pizza, or "the pizza place", and she would begin her protests anew. No, no, no. No pizza. She did NOT want pizza, she was NOT going to eat pizza, on and on.

We got to the place, and I ordered a soup and sandwich combo to share with Small. When it came, she eyed my minestrone suspiciously, mentioning that she really only wanted "soup with nothing in it". Then she turned to the nearest "step-auntie", who was digging into a thick slice of Sicilian pizza, and asked if she would share. We reminded her that she'd told us persistently for more than a half an hour that she did NOT want pizza, to which she replied, "Yes, but I was only JOKING!"

In the car on the way home from the airport, she was singing in the back seat, as she played with her Mickey Mouse doll. The song went something like this: "I DON'T have a ladybug on my head, no I DON'T have a ladybug on my head, no I DON'T have a LADY bug ON my HEEEAAAAAD!"

There was a pause, and then she called out, "MOMMY!!! Mickey Mouse is singing that he doesn't have a ladybug on his head, but he DOES! Can you please tell him that he DOES have a ladybug on his head?"

I called into the back seat, "Hey! Mickey Mouse! You DO have a ladybug on your head!"

Because, really, what else could I do?

Photo Friday- the Prom Edition

Middle Child has been dating a senior, from another high school, for the past several months. So, even though she's only a sophomore, tonight was prom. His dad drove, and, sadly, took video of the whole "getting out the door" process, which included me, freshly showered, with wet hair and no makeup, awkwardly trying to pin a boutonnière on his son without stabbing him through the heart. (I had reason to want to go ahead and stab him, but that's a story for another blog.)

I was kinder to the other parent, and did not catch him in any of the stills. The Man is the photographer in this family, but I think I did an adequate job of capturing the moment.

Thursday 13- the almost missed it edition

Wow! I have 8 minutes left in this day to do my promised daily blog! So, how about 13 things that made me happy today:

1. My student who'd been on vacation came back full of delighted anecdotes about his trip.
2. That same student had done his homework, and was almost as gleeful about presenting it as he was about telling me his vacation stories, because he really hadn't thought he could do it.
3. My other student came to class very pleased with the book I'd assigned him over the break, and gave a very enthusiastic oral report.
4. I got to see some friends today that I hadn't gotten to see in quite a while, and catch up a little.
5. One of those friends gave me some real encouraging words about life in general, and teenagers in particular. AND an acquaintance wrote me a lovely encouraging email, offering me assistance with a task I've been dreading.
   
6. I was able to share my Small One with some of those friends, who were just as charmed by her as I tend to be.
7. Small was incredibly well behaved and polite throughout the day, even though I dragged her on errands. In addition to demonstrating her unflagging devotion to her big sister by bringing her everything in the store she thought might POSSIBLY apply to her prom outfit (and the 3 year old imagination comes up with some interesting choices), she also turned to me at one point in the mall and quoted song lyrics. How fun is that?!?
   
8. She was so sweet to a baby who was fussing at the post office that another woman in line assumed she was the big sister. She kept saying "Oh, what's the matter, little baby?" in a really loving tone.
   
9. Middle Child and I finished prom shopping, which means no more malls for me! Hooray!
10. In a surprising moment, Middle Child informed me that I rock, and gave me a high five, so that was rewarding.
11. My dad sent me a recipe for mojito cake yesterday, which made me happy today because I got to come home from teaching and eat it.
12. My garden is thriving.
13. I got a very loving birthday card in the mail- very heartwarming.

So there you go! Happy Thursday, and hooray for the impending weekend!

Must be Genetic

The girl has inherited my wanderlust, apparently:



In case you can't translate the dialect, the song goes "It's fun to travel everywhere". (Repeat)