Fodder Dodder Canoe Trip

There is something magical that happens every spring on a river in Arkansas.

The annual Fodder Dodder Canoe Trip.

Canoeing and magical together in the same sentence???  What?

That's right.  Magical.

Because to a little girl having her big, strong daddy all too herself for two whole days is very magical.

He is her hero.

Her knight in shining armor.

Her very own daddy.

Just nothing but time and a river to spend together.

She knows her daddy is all there for her.

When he should could be working.

He choose her.

And that, my friends, is magical.

True love between a daddy and his princess. 

And his really big hat.

Buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks...

WOW! 

This week was a complete blur! The first week of the baseball/softball season and it was busy for the coach and his support team (me).

Tuesday night, Zeb had his first game. This is his second year to play in the competitive division of his age group.  He (usually) plays second base and pitcher.  He lives for baseball, just like his daddy.  He wears Skip's high school and college number...16. 

The season opener was a success!  The Pirates won 10-3.

Thursday night, Langley had her first softball game. This is her first season of coach pitch. Sadly, the game got rained out in the bottom of the first inning.

(By the way, I have a crush on the man in pink.)

Saturday, we hit the road for a two-day baseball tournament. It should be a fun weekend!

I will be back on Monday for some riveting content.

Or, maybe not.

My brains might be fried from sunshine, high fructose corn syrup, and baseball.

The Happy Halfs.

Today is Langley's Happy Half Birthday!

I know what you are thinking. Isn't April crazy enough with real birthdays that you make up more things to celebrate?

Oh, yes. We do.

There are some traditions that I am happy to let go of like decorating Easter eggs.  We tried to be consistent with that for the first couple of years and lately we don't even bother.  The kids don't miss it, and frankly, NEITHER DO I.

Bye, bye mess! 

Bye, bye guilt!

But the tradition of the "Happy Halfs" is one of my favorite keepers.  On the day of your Happy Half you get to decide who to have a date with and where to go.  We keep the choices pretty simple.  Donuts or ice cream?  Mom or Dad?

Last night Langley was almost asleep when I went into her room to check on her.  She gave me a sleepy hug and asked me if I would mind if she choose to date her daddy instead of me.

"Of course not, sweetie."  As my heart melted into a puddle of sugary goo.

She smiled and rolled over to sleep.

Her daddy woke up early this morning to get ready for his special date.  He was excited to spend time with his favorite girl.  Tell me.  Is there anything sweeter than a daddy who delights in his baby girl? 

No.  I didn't think so.

Celebrating the Happy Halfs is a simple and easy tradition.  I love it because it tells our kids that they are special to us.  It creates some one-on-one time with a parent.  That alone time is in high demand with our crazy scheduled life.

And when you are the one chosen for this special date. 

PURE JOY.

Nothing compares to the feeling of being chosen.

Reality in my circus.

My sweet cousin is visiting B-town for a couple of weeks with her one year old baby. He is so sweet and squishy it's making me miss my babies. I have spent a lot of time talking with my cousin about motherhood, especially first-time motherhood.

Oh, what I know now that I didn't now then.

It's amazing how things change with time and the number of kids you have. It's a combination of "been there done that" , maturity, and just plain exhaustion but every mommy I know has evolved as the years go by.

When Zeb was my only baby, I would spend my whole day watching him, delighting in him.  I would lay on the couch with him napping on my chest.  We would spend hours in this position.  My world revolved around his needs and his schedule.

He was never dirty. 
He was never hungry.
He bathed every day.
He never missed a nap.
He never wore any diaper other than Pampers.
He never watched TV.
He never went very long without a parent's full attention.
He was read to every day.

Fast forward to baby number two.  Our beautiful princess, Langley.  I adore having a daughter.  As a middle child she has learned to take her lumps.

She was sometimes dirty.
She sometimes had to wait for food.
She sometimes bathed regularly.
She sometimes had to miss a nap, or nap in the car.
She sometimes wore Pampers, but mostly Luvs.
She watched whatever big brother watched on TV.
She sometimes had to wait for mommy or daddy.
She would sometimes get read to daily, sometimes not.

Fast forward even more to baby number three.  Our wild man, Wit, or Bob.  Whatever.  Everyone needs a Wit, or two, in their lives.

He is always dirty or sticky.
He always has to wait for food, or he gets it himself.
I don't remember the last bath he had.
He misses more naps than he takes, life on the go.
He only wears generic diapers.
He would watch TV all day long if I let him (and some days that's just easier).
He has learned that he can get attention by being naughty and mischievous.
Reading time?  Um, not unless Zeb or Langley do it with him (which is only when I remember to make them)

As I have been talking with my cousin it makes me realize that I don't want to go back in time.  I would miss my crazy reality too much.

Life in my circus is pretty fun.

How has your parenting evolved?

I'm takin' this with me if we move.

Well, I am doing what I said I would yesterday.  I have chained myself to the house and I am taking it back. It is going so SLLLOOOOWWWLLLLYYY. I have been in the laundry room most of the day and I wanted to show you my very favorite thing in this house.

I have a friend who is a muralist. When I was pregnant with Langley, I hired her to paint this growth chart in the laundry room.  This ain't your ordinary growth chart. It's a work of art and my absolute favorite thing.

Forgive the terrible pictures.  There seems to be a horrible glare from the dryer and I didn't have much room to work with.  All around the room were huge piles of laundry and junk.  I refuse to show you that. 

Which is funny because I have pretty much bared my soul here on this blog.  But I feel a need to keep the mess in my laundry room a deep dark secret.

Mess in my life open for sharing?  Yes.

Disorganized chaos in the laundry room?  No.

I have to draw the line somewhere, people.

Anyway, back to the growth chart.  Every birthday, and happy-half birthday, my kids get measured.  They look forward to it as much as I do on their special days.  I treasure the way their not-so-tiny bodies (*sigh*) stand against the wall stick straight and how they delight in how much they have grown in six months.

The verse above the growth chart says...

"The child continued to grow and become strong increasing in wisdom; and the grace of God was upon Him."  Luke 2:40

Rest assured, IF we ever move this wall is coming with me.

 
And if it can't, then we won't ever be able to move.

So there you have it. 

My little drummer boy.

One boy.

Two knives.

Three dishes.

Concert for his mommy.

The day we met Karman.

A few months ago we started making some changes for our family.  Our calendar was jam-packed and no one was happy.  We met ourselves coming and going most of the time.  Rarely did we eat dinner at the same time and I hardly saw Skip.  Our kids complained.  They both said they wanted more time at home.

Easier said than done.  Right?

We sat down with both the kids and made a list of their activities and asked which ones they could let go of.  Zeb made a couple of cuts that were pretty painless on his end.  He wrestled with the decision for a couple of days.  After he made up his mind, he never looked back.  It has been a real positive change for him.  He requires more time to just BE.  Going from one activity to another was so stressful on him.  We started to see a huge improvement in his behavior. 

*sigh of relief*

Langley's activity cut was a little harder.  Mostly for me.  The activity that she chose to stop was gymnastics.  She has been in gym since she was 18 months old and she made it to level 2 on the team.  We have invested lots of time, energy and money into this sport.  The level 2 girls practice two nights a week for a total of four hours.  Each level adds more hours and more nights.  For the better part of a year she has been asking for a break.  I am not proud of it, but I refused.  To be completely honestly, I let fear creep in my heart.

What if she takes a break and never goes back and then she won't be a great athlete or cheerleader?
What if she comes back and has lost so much?
What if she can't get back on the team?
What if she becomes an adult that regrets quitting gymnastics like I do?
What if...?  What if...?  What if...?

Fear and doubt and mommy guilt held me back from letting her take a break.  Shame on me.

I realized it was my issue of insecurity and not anything to do with gymnastics.  Once I got a little perspective we sat down with her and weighed the pros and cons about taking a break.  We agreed to take December off and then assess.

Well, December turned into January.  January turned into February.  February turned into March.  The child has not missed it.  Time to let go. 

{Please do not hear me wrong.  I am not against these activities, or any others.  I just know my kids and I know they had too much on their plates.  Behavior was in the toilet, theirs and mine.  We just needed to step away for a little bit and catch our breath as a family.  Sometimes, too much of a good thing is still too much.}

In the meantime, we have been asking Langley if there is anything else she would like to pursue now that her school nights are more free.  In the future I can see her wanting to try karate or an instrument, or tennis.  But the one thing she expressed an immediate interest in was horses.  Every book this child checks out of the library is about horses.  Most of the pictures she draws have a horse in them {and a rainbow...love her}.  She asked if she could learn to ride a horse. 

Okey Dokey. 

Thankfully, we have a dear friend at church that has a sweet mare in a boarding stable north of town.  She has such a passion for horses and encouraged us to come and ride her Karman.  Karman is as gentle of an animal as you will ever find.  She is 22 years old and incredibly patient and obedient.



She is beautiful and gentle.  Everything you want in a horse!



We finally found a great sunny day for our outing with Karman.  It was absolutely perfect.  I am not sure God could have made a better day.  Everything from the weather, to the horse, to the behavior, to the sunset was amazing.  This was the happiest I have seen my kids in a very long time. 

I am so thankful that Zeb was able to come with us.  I didn't think he would get as excited as he did.  He was the first one to jump in the saddle.

See how docile Karman is?  She didn't flinch when Wit started grabbing at her face.  What a beautiful moment!

Langley.  A little nervous, but she soon got comfortable.  I just love that she already knows how to hold the reins.

Zeb was so comfortable in the saddle.  He is a natural.  Our friend recognized that and let him get to a trot.  Awesome!

A little girl's dream day!  I just love Karman's colorful blanket.  Makes me think that this horse was made for my rainbow girl.

One happy boy after a good trot.  I love that toothless (still) smile!  He wants to go back on spring break!  I don't think Jamie will be able to get rid of us!

I am glad that we have time now in our schedule to pursue a different activity.  I don't know if horses will be something that Langley wants to follow, but at least we have some breathing room to let her figure it out.

Slowing down to breathe is a lesson that I hope my kids will learn.  Life moves too fast.   It's good to have times of stillness.  It's been necessary for our family.

I am sure we will fill that space up again with things.  And that's OK.  But for now I am enjoying being home more and having days free to go ride horses, play with neighborhood friends, or whatever comes to mind.

Thank you, Jamie and Karman.  We had the best day!

My sleeping angels.

Bedtime is one of my favorite times of the day for two reasons. One, we made it through the crazy day and it's close to the finish line. {Hallelujah!!} And, two, our bedtime ritual is something I cherish. A time to be savored.

On most nights we put Wit down a little earlier than the other kids. He's easy to tuck in. He talks about music class and the snow and friends. Whatever comes to his mind. We giggle and tickle. We pray and kiss good night. Five minutes later, close door and see you in the morning.  It will get harder when he is older to make our nighttime ritual work, but we will adapt.  It will work out.  For now he's easy.

Then we turn our attention to Zeb and Langley. Skip and I have always switched nights with these two.  The nights that I am with Zeb, he is with Langley. Vice versa.

This is their time to be an only child with an attentive parent. No distractions. No noise. No interruptions. No excuses.  The stress of the day is over, melted away.  We can focus one to one.

We spend about 30 minutes with them. This is our time to talk about anything, or nothing. It's our time to address some issues that concern them that maybe they can't share with all the chaos of the day. It's our time to pray, to laugh, to hug, to affirm, to love, to rub backs, or to count freckles. It's our time for whatever.

It's their time to know we care about them. To show them that no matter what happens during the day we love them.   We accept them.  We forgive them.  There are nights when the day has been so stressful and so full of mistakes that all we do is hang on to each other.  And that's ok.

I treasure this ritual and I miss it when we don't have it. It's my hope that even when they have outgrown their bunkbeds and have a curfew that we can still make time for this.

It's my favorite thing about being a mommy...THEIR mommy.

Inside out and backwards.

There is a fun tradition on the eve of a big snow. Wearing your pj's inside out and backwards will ensure that school is canceled the next day. At least there is a 50% chance.  It's silly and fun and special. Waiting for snow days is thrilling. I love seeing my kids hopped up on the forecast and excited about snow days. The look on their faces the next morning is priceless.

Today is our 8th or 15th snow day of the year. Honestly, I have lost count. Between the snow days and 5 sick days, my internal calendar is inside out and backwards.

I have no idea if I am coming or going lately. What is normal? Don't get me wrong, our snow days have been memorable and I am glad to have my kids home.  The days have been full...

Lots of sledding.

Lots of eating.

Lots of gear.

Lots of playing.

Lots of fighting (lots)

Lots of laundry.

Lots of boredom.

Lots of crafts.

Lots of games.

Lots of cookies.

Lots of messes.

Lots of hot chocolate.

Lots of snuggles.

They look just like snow days are supposed to look like with young children.  They have been fun, lazy, maddening, and more.  They have literally zapped me.  All my energy is gone.  My house is a wreck.  My eating is a wreck.  My motivation is in the tank.

I am inside out and backwards.

One day last week I threw in the towel.  I was so angry at being trapped by the snow and trapped by all the work involved in having my darlings home 24/7.  I lost it.  Through my tears I admitted that this wasn't what I expected it be.  I was a nanny in college for a sweet family with two boys.  They were my practice family.  Playing with those boys was everything I thought parenting would be like.  It was easy and fun and HAPPY ALL THE TIME.  I used all my teacher tricks on them and they absorbed it like little sponges.  In my immaturity, I was convinced that I had this parenting thing down long before I was a parent.

Little did I know.  Being with those boys was my job...my 5 hour a day job.  When their mom got home, I left to do who knows what.  Sleep, rejuvenate, read, go to a movie, eat out.  Whatever.  The next day I was refreshed when I picked up those boys from school.  I didn't have the weight of raising them on my shoulders.  I had the privilege of having all the fun.

The things I didn't have with those boys was EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN THE FUN.  The kisses at bedtime.  The bath time snuggles.  The late-night bad dreams.  The morning breath hugs.  The schedule.  The discipline.  The sibling rivalry.  All the stuff that a mommy gets to handle.  The weight of the world.

{Have you ever started writing something and it takes a whole different direction than you intended?  Hello, long random post that wasn't supposed to be all that deep}

I think I realized that it's not  the snow days that have me turned around, it is the intensity of this stage of our lives.  The constant demands of raising young children is hard. 

Soooo very hard. 

I don't really have any answers to this.  I just know that this inside out and backward feeling is fleeting and there will be a day when all the intensity is gone.  And I will miss this.  At least that's what I hear anyway.

So, I better go embrace snow day #8 or 15 and chase around some kids with mixed-up pajamas.  I should probably start by letting them out of time-out.

I blew it.

Monday morning. Fail.

I sent my first-born out the door deflated and rejected.

I am sick to my stomach.

I wake the kids up at 7:15 so they can shower, dress, eat and brush teeth all before 8:20. The reward for doing things fast is to have a few minutes to lounge and watch TV. Langley always moves fast. She is a worker. I love that about her. So she always gets time on the couch and her pick of shows. Hard work pays off for her.

Zeb, on the other hand, is just like me. Procrastinate, much? But even for him today was pretty extreme. He fell back to sleep until 8:00 which left only time for RUSHING AND PANICKING AND TENSION.

The curse of the procrastinator.

My anger rose to the top today. No matter how much I tell myself to stay calm, I can't with him. He pushes all the buttons in me that I have recognized as defaults in the way I am wired. My weaknesses are his weaknesses. And together we ride the tide of emotions and failure.

The same minute that our sweet neighbor pulled up to take them to school, he realized that he messed up his hair putting on his sweatshirt. It wasn't bad but he is a perfectionist and a FREAKER-OUTER. He lost it.

I lost it.

I yelled things at him that I wouldn't say to my worst enemy.

I shoved him out the door and slammed it behind him.

No hug.

No "I love you".

No wave.

Nothing.

I saw him turn back once just to see if I was there.

I wasn't.

Shoulders down, he walked towards the car.

I am a JERK sometimes.

As soon as they drove off I went to find my phone. I needed to call him. I needed him to know that I loved him. Just then, the phone rang. It was Zeb. I cried as I told him how sorry I was about the way I handled this morning. I reassured him of my love for him. But I wonder what damage this might cause. Is this how he will remember me?

I had a choice. Today (*most days*) I chose wrong. I am embarrassed and ashamed.

How can I stop myself from choosing wrong tomorrow?

Jesus, help me. I can't do this without you.

"Don't go boneless!"

Everyone who has ever held a toddler's hand while leading them against their will knows the feeling of "going boneless".

You have them by the hand when suddenly all the bones in their tiny body give out and they are lying in a heap on the floor. Still holding hands you reach over and try to pull them along hoping they will find their bones and stand up. A little cooperation would be nice in that moment.

But they don't want to cooperate. They want to exert THEIR tiny little will.

"Don't go boneless," I say.

"WHYYYYY???," he cries.

"Because it's bedtime and you need sleep. It's good for you."

Compliance doesn't come easy as a toddler. Or when you are a thirty-something woman.

*sigh*

There is a THING that God is wanting me to do. A PATH He needs me to travel. He is holding my hand so I feel protected and secure.

But I really really really don't want to do "this" and go "there".

We walk along hand in hand. I feel His leading. My body goes limp, in a heap on the floor. Holding His hand is harder now. It takes work to hold on. A little cooperation would be nice in that moment.

But I don't want to cooperate. I want to exert MY tiny little will.

"Don't go boneless," He says

"WHYYYYY???," I cry.

"Because it's good for you and I love you."

In thirty years this will come full circle.

Over Christmas vacation we went to a lakehouse with Skip's entire family. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, dogs, boyfriends, girlfriends. The WHOLE family from 9 months to 80 years.

It was a FUN LOUD MESSY time filled with food, movies, football, bowling, wrestling, HGTV, and games. The only thing NOT good about it was the amount of sleep we were getting. I happen to like sleep...sort of my "passion" if you will. The kids really had free reign during this time. They crashed anytime between midnight and 3 AM. The house was so full of life that 3 AM felt like noon. Sometime in the middle of the night they all found their way back to our bed.

Tight.

Hot.

Sweaty.

Tossing.

Turning.

Sweet.

Skip and I decided to take our kids home a night early so they could get back into their routine and own beds. Personally, I was craving my own space and sleep. To a parent, this decision made complete sense. To a nine year old boy?

Well. I am convinced that nothing makes sense to a nine year old boy.

As we were packing to leave, Zeb came downstairs with a major chip on his shoulder. He was very upset that we were leaving complete with some sassing and some door slamming.

"MO-OOOM!!! You don't understand. You just...you just CARE too much about us. It's so embarrassing! Could you quit CARING sometimes?"

*straight face*

"OK. So. You are mad because I happen to CARE too much?"

"YES! Why can't you CARE LESS like a normal person?"




Just you wait, son. Just you wait.

Big brother, big brother. What do you see?

I see a baby drooling on me.

Mommy, mommy. What do you see?

I see my boys sweet as can be.