Made With Love

I'm a big proponent of DIY projects that save me money.  I make my kid's birthday cakes and decorations.  I get a little crafty around the holidays and when it comes to Halloween hand-made is the only way to go.

Luke as SpongeBob, Layna is Ariel and Jake was a "peanut".

Even when I want to be lazy and buy costumes, a stroll through Target's Halloween aisle reminds me at $35 a pop (x4 = $140... I guess we won't eat for a week), a little nighttime crafting is the only way to go for costumes.  Made with love... in other words I burned my self with the glue gun 5 times putting together this Sponge Bob costume, I don't care if it's not cartoon accurate, you're wearing it.

My parents are DIYers.  The difference being they had legitimate talent.  My mom made our clothes, costumes and even my wedding dress.  My dad made our dressers - one of which is still used by my daughter almost 30 years later. Unlike yours truly they made things that deserved to be cherished, and I did.  Now my kids get the benefit of their hard work, with blankets, stuffed animals and clothes from grandma and wooden garages for the boys trucks, and a wood cradle for my daughters dolls.  Amid rooms of store bought junk, I had to explain the special value in something made by hand.  I asked my kids to imagine the item being made for them, how much time and effort it and the whole time it was being crafted they were being thought of. The time dedicated just to them - with them even being there, that's worth more than gold.

The things I make don't have the longevity to be cherished.  The cakes are gone in hours, the poster board decorations last on their bedrooms walls for a few months and the costumes are lucky to last through the couple Halloween functions we attend.  The kids almost always like the things I make them, and sometimes they even turn out "cool!".

I've found that one of the side effects of the affliction of parenthood is the evaporation of hobbies. I was asked at an ECFE class last week to introduce myself and share hobbies and interests, the only thing I could come up with is "I read sometimes, I think"... are karaoke and wine hobbies?  I have the best intentions to resume my pre-kid hobbies, but now, time is always filled with school and work and the fact that my family feels I should prepare them dinner every single night.

For now my only real hobby is making things for my kids' birthdays, Halloween and holidays. Party planning their theme lets me harken back to my pre-kid creative craftiness. Making crazy cakes, drawing characters for decorations or figuring out how to make a 4 year old into a 4-wheeler for Halloween. It's glue gun burns, marker stained fingers and scissor cramped hands, but I love it... because I love them.  I love finishing a project and setting it up in the living room so it's the first thing they see in the morning, their excitement is only motivation I need to do it again.  I hope they can look back on the photos someday and laugh at the hilarity of some of the results, but mostly realize how much love and thought was in those goofy projects.





Here are a few of my favorite DIYs:

Cinderella & BamBam, who wasn't as impressed
 with his costume as the princess.

Phineas (from & Ferb), a paperdoll and "camo"
(that's a thing right?)

Word Girl & Mickey Mouse

Jake's Pirate Party (Jake & the Neverland Pirates)

Layna's Alice & Wonderland Party, a true labor of love.

Rapunzel Party, I have to admit - girl parties are more fun.

Luke's Construction Party, complete with "Big Bad Worker"
safety vests.

Matt's Curious George Party.  The felt George Wall decor
actually lasted a year on his bedroom wall.

Jake's first birthday - puppy party.
Saran Wrap & Gel frosting don't mix. Starbursts make good tongues.

Tractor Party. The hay bales were the best part.

Matt's 1st birthday - Winter Party with

Polar Bear Cake & Penquin Truffles.

Flower Garden Party - to the right is a "prize garden"
where the kids picked treats to fill their bags.

Summer Fun is Learning in Disguise, and 7 Other Lessons from Summer Vacation

Summer always holds so much promise in May:  Almost every weekend is free and the options for fun are endless, if only time and money came as easy as the good ideas.

Working at home, summer is as much of a hassle as it is fun.  My productivity slides as hand-washing turns into a water fight and reading into a wrestling match.  I'm convinced school was invented to preserve the lives of younger siblings, more than it was for education.

Now as the backpacks are loaded and lined up for the morning hustle, I'm in a bit of denial that summer is over.  Every weekend was full, lots of money was spent, but many of my summer "must-do's" have been left undone.   Every summer seems to end this way, as the last of the sand slips through your fingers, and the school year saddles you for another nine months.

For me, the perfect summer remains elusive, but the kids seem to find a little fun in each day, and through them I'm reminded what summer vacation is all about.  Here's what they taught me this year:

1. 3 Months is Only 12 Weeks (or so)
As soon as the last school bell rings, the clock starts ticking down. I remember driving by the electric billboard at school a few days ago, in June and seeing "School Starts September 2nd", and thinking "Ahhh, we have the whole summer".  Last week I drove by it and was panic-stuck when I realized we only had 4 days left!  The time in between just evaporated. I blame all the plans and activities: T-ball, parties, fairs, day trips, family events... all things we wanted to do, but all taking time to plan and participate, leaving just a few "dog days" to relax and do nothing.  The lesson, you may have time to do it all, but you won't have time to do nothing.

2. Summer In Two Words:  Hot Dogs
Turns out you can actually survive on grilled processed meat for three months straight. Food cooked outdoors always tastes better, especially because Daddy is the grill master in our house.  The lesson, summer tastes like hot dogs and brats...with the occasional pasta salad.

3. It's Never Too Cold To Swim
I'd be surprised to hear that we cracked 80 degrees for more than 10 days this summer, but the same kids that are "frrrrreeeeezzzing" when the house is 67 degrees in the winter are doing "canyon balls" (as they call them) into the pool when it's only 65 degrees outside. The lesson, don't let a little weather ruin a pool day.

4. Rain Makes Mud, Mud Makes Messy
Messy makes my babies... the most happy. Even bad summer weather has a silver lining - mud is always fun, even when mom has to dig it out of your ear canal.  The lesson, washing machines are a necessary and important investment.  If you're feeling extra economical, you can pre-treat in the pool.

5. Walks Rock
Even though I moonlight as a "stay-at-home" mom, behind closed doors there's a computer with demanding (while lovely) clients who usually need something yesterday or at the latest tomorrow.  The kids get bored with me working, so to break up the day we'd go outside  for short periods during my typical work day and burn off a little energy.  The favorite activity was walking our dirt road searching for agates, and we'd always find some, along with other pretty rocks.  The lesson, when the house can't contain you anymore, take a walk for rocks.

6. Nothing Can Be Anything
When the kids are being good and I think "now's the time to get stuff done!" Sometimes laziness intervenes and I'm privy to the hilarity of my kids' imaginations - whether the boys are pretending to be my husband and his friends - driving tractors and baling hay or my daughter is making sand cookies to peddle to her "hard-working" brothers, taking the time to watch them always makes me smile.  Sometimes, I even laugh out loud, like a rainy day they all donned sunglasses, vests, old walkie talkies and toy pistols as they stealthy crept along the walls, agents with the "FBI", in search of sneaky snake (that was just an old plastic snake).  Perhaps a better job for animal control, but the FBI got him. The lesson, for the kids nothing can be anything, for me the "anything" is as precious as it is hilarious.

7. Summer's Just Enough Time To Not Severely Injure Your Sibling.
Summer vacation is the perfect time for the "nights and weekends" siblings during the school year, to reconnect.  To remember why they love each other, and shortly there after to remember why they despise each other.  By the end of July, the sharing and caring wears thin and being shacked up with siblings for weeks on end gets old.  The joy of togetherness fades until the kids can't decide what piece of living room furniture to sit on without a wrestling match.  They hide the remote from each other so many times they can't find it when their dad gets home and for some reason the busted toy pick-up with the missing seats and no hood is suddenly the most desirable vehicle out of 2,173 to play with.  The battles continue outdoors, in deciding who gets to throw the ball for the dog, who gets to open the mailbox and who gets to use what shovel in the sandbox. School and it's age segregating structure keeps the kids from each other for 8+ hours a day, ensuring the youngest survive until the older siblings are too cool to play with them anyway.  The lesson, it's quite possible school saves you trips to the ER and a mental breakdown or two.

8.  The Growing Season
For 9 months kids are behind locked doors learning, but for 3 months they are home growing.  All the walking, swimming and biking does a kid body good, but they're also growing in other ways - without being told what to do at all times, they get to do what they want, developing their personality, confidence and imagination.  And being home to help with chores, they learn skills that serve them well all their life. I can't believe how much my kiddos grew and changed this summer. The lesson, summer fun is learning in disguise.

I (like most parents, I imagine) want my kids to have the best summer vacation.  Yet, the work that goes into planning the "big stuff" seems to zap the fun out of it. Or, even after creating the perfect outing/event/activity the kids aren't nearly as impressed with the idea as you were.

I guess the ideas left on my list will keep until next summer, but to make me feel better I asked the kids if they had a good summer and got a resounding "yes", whew!  They loved the fairs, parties and day trips, but they all agreed on enjoying the little things, especially have a "huge" swimming pool this year (I guess 30" deep is huge when you're under 10).  As sad as it seems to let summer go, fall is filled with it's own kind of fun and lessons to learn, and if you can't find anything to do, I know from experience you can make mud all year long.

#2 with a Side of Guilt...

A short nine months after our daughter was born, I discovered I was pregnant with Baby #2.  I would say it was a surprise, but we'd just put our house on the market and my husband specifically said "You better not get pregnant!", which is a clear opportunity for the universe to say, "You're not the boss of me!".  Sure enough, two weeks later I had to check the package twice to make sure the two pink lines meant "baby-on-board."

In the early weeks the idea of two kids didn't really phase me, "everyone" has two kids, right?  What's the big deal? But as my daughter grew and our daily activities and rituals became more routine, the idea of bringing home a baby created a feeling I didn't expect, a big heaping, helping of guilt.

Being a mom of one is easy to remember compared to trying to remember the early days with my other kids. Early morning wake-ups, followed by snuggling in bed, eating breakfast, holding a napping baby while I worked, breaking for The View for me and a bottle for baby. It was an easy schedule - a little of what I needed, a little of what she needed.

One morning I was balancing a bowl of Corn Pops on my baby belly, my daughter tucked to one side of me, mesmerized by some toy she was holding, when I realized soon it wouldn't be just us taking turns with daylight hours. Pretty soon there'd be a tiny person who needed me "now" and my little girl would have to wait.  And it made me feel awful. It made me cry.  It made me think "What have I done!"  And each sweet moment we had began to feel like the last, and in some ways, they were.

We sold our house just in time.  I was 4cm dilated and contracting every hour, but we closed and moved and I lasted a whole week longer until my doctor decided I live too far from a hospital to be so dilated and contracting with a toddler while my husband worked 45 minutes away.  The morning I went in to be induced was heart wrenching, I felt this was the day my little girl's world changes forever and it's all my fault. It was hard to be excited for a new baby when I was sure I'd condemned my daughter to a life of "just a minute!", which translates to "I don't have time for you, I'm too busy with this noisy poop machine."

Bringing our new son home didn't really help my feelings.  Everyone was fine with our new dynamic but me.  My daughter was instantly the "Best Sister Ever".  A little mommy if there ever was one.  She was 18 months old and ready for independence, so having mommy occupied was a welcome reprieve from singing Old MacDonald for the 200th time.

She found all sorts of fun while I was glued to the couch with my shirt half off feeding her brother.  One day she made an indoor sandbox out of her brother's baby rice cereal. (Tip: Don't ever try to vacuum that stuff.)

I held on to the guilt for a few months, I clearly remember the day it went away.  It was a really hot day, the baby was in his little chair and I was snapping the day's obligatory new baby photos when my daughter came over, the breeze from the fan blowing her wispy hair back.  She smooched her brother as I snapped away.  It wasn't until that night, as I was clicking through the pictures that this shot stopped me and I finally understood.  As I looked at these tiny people interacting I finally saw what she had, instead of what she lost. She had a brother who, seven years later, is her best friend (most days) and her back-up whenever she needs it.  She gained someone to love and be loved by, and she has someone to turn to if she can't turn to Mom and Dad.  You would think as someone who has three younger siblings herself that I would have known this from the start (hormone clouded judgement?).

I also realized that trying to be the best mom for one kid is very different than trying to be the best mom for two or more kids.  With one kid you are 50% of their everything.  With more kids you're only 33%, 25% or less.  You still give all the love, but you don't have to be the entertainment, shoulder, snuggler, teacher, playmate all the time... sometimes to your dismay. Siblings are happy to jump into those roles, and others... antagonist, irritater, toy breaker.

I'd like to say I scraped the rest of that side of guilt into the garbage and was done with it, but I managed to store some to reheat with the births of brothers #2 and #3. With the younger brothers it was more of an appetizer than a side dish, easily forgotten once the meal arrived.

Even now I find a crumb or two of guilt laying around, especially when I realize how little one-on-one time I get with the kids.  But as I listen to them playing some made up game down the hall I think, maybe that's just me missing it, they are too busy having fun with each other.

The Sound of Quiet

In my house quiet is hard to come by.  With young kids (three quarters of them boys) and a dog, the volume of our house regularly reaches unsafe levels.  I often threaten to wear ear plugs, but as most moms know, hearing (or not hearing anything) is part of a mom's anti-danger awareness system which goes on high-alert when your eyes are otherwise occupied, and I can't safely turn that off.

Last week, my parents, bless their angelic souls, had all four of the kids to their house for a week (a whole week!!).  They've had two or three of them in the years past, but this year, the youngest is potty trained and they all got to go.  It was the first time in 8.5 years I had no children at home with me.  And, it was quiet.

There were no truck noises, no fighting, no "Mom! So-and-so won't let me blah-blah-blah".  There was no me yelling for them to be quiet only to hear "What?! We can't hear you! We're being to loud!", followed by sounds of my head banging off the wall. Of course there were none of the good noises either: the giggles, silly sayings and sweet "Mom, I love you"s. But... there was quiet.

I almost forgot it existed during the daylight hours.

When it was quiet, I heard the wind in the trees, the birds chirping away, the laundry thumping in the dryer downstairs, and  I heard myself think!  I went hours without having to speak.  No twenty questions to answer, no over dramatic punishments to threaten - "No dessert for a year!".  I didn't have to hold a press conference to announce the evenings menu, so I wasn't asked 5 separate times while I was preparing it:

"Thank you for attending this evening's dinner press conference.  The menu tonight will be a Roasted Red Pepper Pasta with Chicken, salad and garlic bread. Any questions? --- Yes, you four in the front row."
In unison: "Are there onions in it?"
"No, there are no onions in it."  "Yay!"
"Any more questions?  Tall guy, that just walked in."
"Pasta, again?!"  "Would you like to rephrase that?".

While I was hearing "quiet", I realized I no longer had to listen.  As a parent your eyes and ears and nose never turn off.  You could be reading a book and still hear the little feet sneaking into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and then smell the pickles as they are being stealthily snatched from their jar.  Moms can even wake from the deepest slumber when they hear the flick of the bathroom light switch at 4:18 AM.

Being able to power down from Mom-mode was almost like a vacation for my brain, even if I was still at my desk working.  Last week was a gift for me more than it was for the kiddos. Sure, I missed them (less than I thought) and I worried (even more less than I thought -- but my parents are pros at managing kids, they had four of their own not that long ago). We all survived, though the grand-angels halos maybe be a tad tarnished, it's hard to be on your best behavior for a full day, let alone a whole week.

They're home now.  The noise has returned.  All Mom-systems are "GO".  I can only hope that for my parents, the memory of the chaos, exhaustion and overwhelming energy of 4 grandkids will fade like the pain of childbirth over the next few months and they will want the kids to come visit again next summer, for, maybe.... two weeks?

Give Props to Working Pops

The whole world knows how hard being a mom is.  There are thousands (maybe millions?) of mom blogs, facebook posts, magazine articles and even the media to remind us.  We hear what the stay-at-home moms should make based on what they do in a day ($115,000 a year according to Forbes).  We know working moms have to make tough choices to be able to pay the bills, and that work-at-home moms are probably just crazy to begin with because who would ever try to get work done with the kids around.  Even the stay-at-home dads get their 15 minutes of fame every once in a while, but the working dad NEVER gets credit, even when they meet the crazy high expectations of what society thinks a "dad" should be.  My kids have an awesome working dad that makes me want to let the world know that working dad's have it hard too (shh...maybe even harder).

Hear me out.

When our children were born, I was prepared.  I had a plan.  The marsupial instincts kicked in, and with baby strapped to me, life went on as normal - if at a slower pace.  I am woman, hear me roar.  And roaring never sounds like a cry for help, even if you intend it to be.  So Dad is on standby mode as you juggle bottles, diapers, and dinner.  We whine about having to do everything, but we don't want anyone to help.  Frankly, we're impossible and if Daddy holds, changes or feeds the child we are inches away supervising -- correcting the hold, the angle, the burping.  And lord help him if he tries to fill the dishwasher or make dinner.  I imagine the constant supervision and direction doesn't quite inspire them to take an overactive role in the child rearing. Mom's just naturally take charge, we pick and schedule doctors, schools, and activities.  We are the Boss which leaves Dad the role of assistant.  Affectionately abbreviated to Ass.

My hard-working hubby has been the delegated ass in our house for years now.  He doesn't mind so much as long as there is beer around.  And after a few of those beers, the tough exterior drops just enough for me to learn that how even though he's happy he doesn't have to manage the chaos that is 4 little kids, sometimes he feels he's not even part of it.  My husband works 60 hours a week, often nights, occasionally weekends and he misses out on the fun, but also the routine. When he's home, it's the kids' schedule or my plans, my interior design and style of home management (which consists mostly of putting out fires, having a glass of wine and then putting out more fires).  He works so hard to provide for us, but barely gets any say or time to enjoy any of it.  I'm sure we're not the only family like this.

Ma usually has the house spinning like a merry-go-round, while Pop is just trying to figure out when to jump on.  They literally made the in-crowd, but aren't always part of it.

Working dads have it harder.

Dads, just like moms, have unreachable expectations.  They feel bad when they miss school functions and t-ball games because of work. And every hunting, fishing, boys weekend trip also becomes a guilt trip when they leave Ma and the kids at home.   A dad today is still supposed to be the strong, hardworking, "wait until your dad gets home" disciplinarians, while at the same time a sentimental teddy bear, soapbox car building, fishing partner - and when you're not busy can you please see why the car is making that funny noise - guy.  There are only so many hours in the day.

My husband, and all the other working dads out there, need to know they are appreciated and vital.  They may not be able to attend every school concert or sports event, but they are setting a great example for their kids.  Something moms should make sure the kids notice.

The silver lining is seeing the moments the kids get to spend with their dad, even if it's just helping him with the yard work.  It may not seem like much, but I know those quality moments will mean so much more than seeing Dad on the bleachers at their t-ball game when they are older.

The days when Dad is around to connect with the kids and I are so important, maybe, just maybe, I could let him be Boss for a day.  Or at the very least, when I see him trying to find the right moment to jump on our merry-go-round life - remember to slow it down a little and reach out my hand to pull him on, because we're always happier when "Daddy's Home!!".

Pride and Panic: Please Pass the Bubble Wrap

Children, I think, are more detrimental to heart health than salt, booze and a sedentary lifestyle combined. Not a day goes by that my heart does not melt, swell, break or stop because of my kiddos.

We've got "Country Kids", and there's nothing they want more than to be like their 4-wheeling, snowmobiling, mechanic daddy.  My boys are tough and strong and proudly redneck -- and my husband encourages the ol' growin' up in the country tradition of kids learning how to drive before they can even
write cursive.

When my oldest boy was just 5 years old he could drive our old riding lawnmower (with the blade removed and my husband walking next to him, calm down), in reverse down the driveway with a trailer attached.  This is something I don't think I could easily do at any age, and he did like he has been for years.

I remember my husband coming to get me  -  "come see this!" -  and me freaking out appropriately, applying a defibrillator to myself and then lecturing my husband on 5 year old driving anything, while secretly being amazed and proud of how competent my little boy was.   I've learned over the last few years that pride and panic usually come as a combo -- the short of breath, anxious feeling you get as your child leaves for the first day of school, their first bike ride without training wheels or performing in the school talent contest... morphing into a burst of pride when they succeed.

As your kids grow, their firsts become more panic inducing -- their first solo step is a big deal, but compared to their first solo drive... I can't even imagine, hopefully in 8 years we'll all be floating on fluffy cushions as a mode of transportation and I'll never have to worry about my kids behind the wheel of a car... on a highway...driving 70MPH. (Pause for deep breath).

As a mom, your desire for your child's success and well being amplifies the emotions of the situation.   I'll never forget the tornado of emotions as my first-grade daughter and kindergartner son took the stage to sing God Bless America in front of about 300 people at the school talent show.  The pure adorableness, their obvious nervousness, and their bravery to stand in front of that crowd, these two tiny people on stage, huddled together, sharing a mic, singing sweetly out-of-key with determination. Heart stopping. Melting. Swelling. And then not winning. Breaking.  I can't believe the stress of that 3 minutes didn't do me in and if I hadn't been distracted by my video camera crapping out I probably would have been a blubbering mess.

All our life's experiences give us the insight of what can go wrong when we take a risk, and our super-mom persona wants to deflect all that agony.  But a life without risk, making an effort, putting ourselves out there, is a life without the satisfaction of success and pride in our own abilities, even if we (and our moms) have to deal with a little defeat along the way.

So we take our pride with a side of panic.  We pack our bucket to collect the pieces of a broken heart and try to remember to breath when our hearts stop, just so we can be ready for the swell of pride - and that moment your kid looks up from whatever amazing feat they just accomplished to catch your eye and see your excitement for them.  Melt!

Home Alone

Before you become a mom, you imagine that motherhood is filled with a pretty balanced mix of hugs and cuddles to tantrums and poop up the back diapers.  You think you have a good idea of the work involved and you probably think it's life just like the child-free days, but with little stinky noise-makers.  But what you probably didn't notice - and no one took the time to tell you - is that you are never alone, ever. Ever.

Sometimes you may look alone -- for example, it's 9PM and my 4 little turds are tucked into their beds, I'm tapping away on my laptop down the hall from their rooms and from the outside looking in, I appear, alone.  But I'm not. You're never alone if your children are within shouting distance - even when they are asleep.  You're always waiting, listening, and waiting and listening and turning down the volume on the TV and listening harder and tiptoeing down the hall to take a peek because it sounded like someone got up, or coughed or talked or moved.   From the moment that first head pops out of your hooha you're on Red Alert.

Recently when my three older kids were at school and my husband was home from work, he took our youngest to town with him because I had a meeting to go to, but they left about an hour and half before I had to.  And as I saw his truck bounce down the driveway I realized - I'm home alone!  There was no listening, hollering, checking to see who was where or what was happening.  It was just me - I was what's happening and man was it was weird and amazing and a bit disorienting.  I quickly calculated how much time I had... just over an hour - and then I proceeded to waste about 5 minutes trying to figure out what to do with my time. Then I spent another two minutes complaining to myself about wasting 5 minutes.  But I was confused - what should I do?  Do I clean, make myself lunch, do I watch trashy TV, where should I sit - all the furniture is available!!  I was totally unprepared for being home alone -- and I pretty much squandered the most precious gift of the last 8 years.

I turned on trashy TV, made lunch and did my make up in the living room, but I felt alive! I could hear myself think.  I got to eat all my lunch without anyone asking for some. It was amazing, but next time will be better - now I know to prepare.  I've started a list in my Google Keep, so the next time I'm unexpectedly home alone I'll have a plan.  Each minute will be used to the fullest and it will be mind-blowing.

Our youngest is 3.5 and in a couple years will be in school all day.  Soon I'll be "home alone" everyday, which bodes well for my business, the tidiness of our house and my temperament.  I asked my youngest what I will do all day when he's at school too - he said I would probably drink coffee, and he's 100% right.  I'm sure the novelty of an empty house will wear off then and I'll be waiting at the door for the bus to come and the noise to re-enter the house each day, but for now I'm going to make sure I take advantage of every free second I get.