Tonight

I want to be sad tonight. I can think of no other way to say it. For so many small, small reasons, I want to be sad.

I want to be sad because all the Krispy Kreme donuts (which we have about twice a year) were gone before I got to heat one in the microwave and experience its cloud-like goodness.

I want to be sad because we had a last-minute birthday party for Tegan and Spencer today, and we never even sang Happy Birthday, or had them blow out any candles.

I want to be sad because I didn't get any good pictures, because for some reason even though I've managed to learn how to use the camera when it's not a particularly important shot, using it under a high-pressure situation still has me completely flummoxed. 

I want to be sad because I'm TIRED, oh. so. tired.  because once again too many nights of not sleeping have caught up with me, and have magnified everything to larger-than-necessary proportions.

I want to be sad because I don't understand people sometimes, and have a hard time accepting that people will continue to do passive-aggressive hurtful things instead of talking about their issues like grownups.... because people don't respect themselves enough to do things differently.

I just really want to be sad.  But I can't.

Fourteen years ago from tonight, I was brand-new 23 year old mother.  I was nursing my first child, an oh-so-tiny 5 pound little boy, with big eyes, lots of black hair, and skin he'd yet to grow into.  My life changed that night.  It became less about me, and more about HIM.  Tonight, that little baby is a healthy and happy teenager.  

He didn't care that we didn't sing happy birthday, or that he didn't blow out any candles.  In fact, he hasn't stopped talking about what a great birthday he had.

I went on to have three more healthy children after that day (three more... seriously, how blessed am I?)  including this one, who also claimed it was the "best birthday ever,"  even though her birthday isn't technically until Tuesday:

I can't be sad tonight.  I'm too grateful to be sad.   Tonight, I'm grateful.  


I'm humbled.
I'm blessed.
I'm so very blessed!

I will not sweat the small stuff.... and it's all small stuff.

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by Soule Mama

Nostalgia

I had a post all planned for tonight. Got ready for bed, replaced my jeans with yoga pants, got a glass of water, got all settled in with my laptop.... and proceeded to stare at my screen. And stare some more. No words. I'm very much inside my head tonight. Not in a bad way, but in a I'm-so-distracted-I-can't-possibly-write-something-new kind of way.

I've been thinking a lot about the past, and about what brought us here. In lots of ways, I feel like the person that I am - and the family that we are - was not really born until we moved here to Arizona. Everett was just a baby when we moved, Paxton 5, and Spencer (who will be FOURTEEN the day after tomorrow) was 8. And we of course had no idea that we'd eventually have a Tegan. In more ways than one, we were different people when we moved. And for better or worse, our life together will now forever be divided into "before" and "after" that move.

In my little journey into the past, I went back to re-visit some old posts. This one from November 23rd, 2005 gave a recap of the week-long trip as we moved across the country. It was odd to read it, almost as if it'd been written by someone else. But I read it, and I remembered. Bittersweet is the word that comes to mind... such a big move for us, such a huge leap of faith, but one that we were so very very excited about.

Here is the post from that trip, the bridge between "before" and "after":

Day 1 - Departure

We planned to leave NH at 8:00 AM, and ended up leaving at 8:45. Not bad considering that it was a cold, rainy, dreary day. The first leg of the trip went incredibly smoothly. The boys slept off and on, and we rarely heard a peep from the animals. We had lunch in New York, and it was also somewhere in New York that I first noticed that our trailer swayed like crazy everytime a tractor trailer passed us. I vowed I wouldn't look back anymore, because it freaked me out, but of course it just made me look EVERY time. The drizzly sky finally completely opened up and poured on us as we entered Pennsylvania, and we all laughed as we ran through the rain into to PA Welcome Center. First overnight stop: Mifflinville, Pennsylvania. We got some sandwiches from Arby's, then spent the evening playing the bingo game that Paxton got in his kid's meal at lunch.

Day 2

We woke to freezing temperatures and snow. It snowed on and off all day, but thankfully never enough to delay our trip. We entered Ohio, and had lunch in Akron. There were tears in Akron too - lots of them - over where we were going to eat. A scene was made, and I think there's a distinct possibility that we won't be welcome at that Subway ever again. Ah, traveling with kids. Everyone felt a lot better after we ate, and we enjoyed a gorgeous sunset coming through Columbus. The boys broke out their gameboys after lunch, and I ate my way through a box of Junior Caramels while I read two more magazines and caught up on all my pop-culture news. We noticed a strange thump in the trailer, and couldn't figure out what it was. We were excited to see gas prices drop below $2.00, a very good thing since our 4Runner was barely making 11 MPG with the weight of the trailer. Second overnight stop: Dayton, Ohio. There was a Perkins right next to our hotel, so that fit the bill for dinner. We'd never eaten there before, but the boys and I were able to get pancakes, and Mike got some sort of meat, so we were happy. The hotel was NOT a four-star establishment, and I had to laugh each time I found something wrong.... a lamp that didn't work, a missing clock, a shower drain that didn't drain, and not even a single spare roll of toilet paper.

Day 3

This time we woke to the first casualty of the trip. My Christmas cactus, lovingly grown from a shoot from a plant that was originally my Grandmothers, was frozen dead in the truck. Our luck continued through the morning into Missouri. It was a boring stretch of highway, and a rough stretch of highway, so much so that I was starting to feel carsick. Everett was starting to get grumpy and bored, so I picked up a little chalkboard for him to play with. It kept him happily drawing for 20 minutes or so, until he found more creative uses for it, like bopping his big brothers in the head. It revived me a little bit to come into St Louis, and I took several pictures of the arch. It finally started to warm up a bit too, something that made us all happy. We played the alphabet game in the afternoon, and we got to "Z" just as we passed a Lake of the Ozarks sign. Third overnight stop: Lebanon, Missouri (at a much nicer hotel than the night before.) We rolled into the parking lot with less than a half a gallon of gas, checked in, and ordered a pizza. While we waited for dinner to arrive, the boys ran around the courtyard for a good half hour, waving their arms over their heads, shouting "We're freeeeeeeee!!"

Day 4

We had a rough, windy ride first thing in the morning, but it cleared up as the morning wore on. The boys played their gameboys, and I finished the second of the 4 books I brought with me. We crossed into Oklahoma, and had lunch in Tulsa. We saw our first official cowboy in Wendy's, complete with Wrangler jeans, cowboy boots, hat and silver belt buckle. The boys were excited at lunch because they got new prizes in their kids' meals (we'd already eaten fast food enough times that they'd gotten some repeats) The day was going smoothly, if long, and we booked our hotel for the night. We were about 60 miles away from our destination, and I turned to Mike to tell him what good time we were making, how happy I was that we were ahead of schedule. BOOM. Or bang or pop or whatever words conjure up a dreadfully loud and sudden explosion sound. In the ten seconds it took me to realize we weren't in fact being shot at, but had blown a tire out on our trailer, Mike already had the truck under control and was maneuvering it onto the shoulder. Unfortunately it happened on the one of the worst possible places on the highway... a barely-there shoulder, a tight curve, and a 75 mph speed limit. We just sat in the truck for a minute, looking at each other, while tractor trailers zoomed by fast enough to make our teeth rattle. We did have a spare, but neither of us were comfortable with Mike changing a tire by himself on that section of road. We wanted a professional, preferably with flashing lights. We called AAA, who sent someone out, and it took about 20 minutes for him to arrive. It was dark by this time, and 2 of the 3 boys were crying, exhausted and freaked out. It was a quick fix once he got there; and ten minutes (and $120) later, we were on our again, stopping at a closer hotel than planned. Fourth overnight stop: Elk City, Oklahoma. We were exceedingly thankful to get there safe and sound, and the hotel room - complete with its hot pink sheets - was very inviting. I stayed with the baby, while Mike and the older boys ran out to pick something up for dinner. I found Racing Stripes on HBO, and thought they'd be excited about that when they got back. They were.

Day 5

Everett woke up hot with a fever, but with no other symptoms. I felt bad making him get in the car for another day of driving, but knew that he'd get the sleep he needed to fight whatever it was off. And sleep he did. We drove around most of the morning looking for someplace to buy another spare tire for the trailer, but it was a difficult feat being a Sunday when everything was closed. Walmart's tire center was open but did not have the right size. We took the chance while we were there to grab a few things we needed... snacks, baby tylenol, another magazine, new magnadoodles for the kids. The guy at Walmart sent us to a truck stop, also open, also wrong size. We finally found a service station that appeared to be open. The guy who worked there, called in on an emergency repair for somebody else, was gracious enough to help us. We were back on the road by 10:30 AM, and finally crossed into Texas. Lunch was at McDonalds in Amarillo. The boys wanted an icecream after lunch, and were bummed to find out that their icecream machine was broken. After lunch we crossed the border into New Mexico, and it was just as beautiful as I remembered it from the first trip. There's just something about the miles and miles of wide open spaces, mountains, and red rock buttes that's good for the soul. I love the southwest; I always have. The difference between this time and our trip in June is that in June it felt like a vacation, and this time it feels like going home. Fifth overnight stop: Albuquerque, New Mexico. The kids made me smile when they walked into our rather typical $60 a night hotel room and said, with all sincerity "Wow, what a great room!" We had dinner at an interesting cafeteria-style family restaurant in a not-very-nice part of town. We'd promised the boys icecream.... and the icecream machine was broken there too. We headed back to our hotel, and to the McDonald's sharing its parking lot, for icecream and another night of much needed rest. We pulled out the US map as we had every night so far, and marveled at how far we'd come.

Day 6

Everett's fever was thankfully of the 36 hour variety, and he woke up cool and happy and his usual stinker self. The older boys however woke up with their own unique versions of impending colds... Paxton a hacking cough, and Spencer a flurry of sneezes. We'd set the alarm for 7, but not being used to the time change we woke up at 5:45, ready to get going. We had our first really good cup of coffee of the trip when I spotted a nearby Starbucks. Mike ran in for them, and came back swearing that he was never going to Starbucks again.... too many complicated choices for a simple cup of coffee. We enjoyed a relaxing drive through the rest of New Mexico, and I finished my 3rd book of the trip in between drinking in all the scenery. We crossed into Arizona before noon, and began the long stretch of desert highway. Exits were few and far between, so when we stopped for a bathroom break, Mike decided to fill up the gas tank just in case. He was already up to $40 before he realized that the gas was almost FOUR DOLLARS a gallon. We shed our jackets sometime around lunchtime, and enjoyed the warm air. Lunch was at Denny's in Holbrook, and we decided to call it a nice early day. Last overnight stop: Flagstaff, AZ. We stayed at a nicer hotel than the previous ones, in a two-room suite, which was fitting for our last night of the trip. We got their at 4:00, enjoyed a complimentary cocktail social hour, gave the kids baths, ordered room service, and vegged out in front of the TV.

Day 7: Arrival day

We woke up early again, and were lounging around in bed watching the local news. Mike got a weird look on his face when he heard that it had dipped below 20 degrees overnight. I just stared at him until he said "Paxton's fish." It had been so warm in the evening, we hadn't thought about the fact that we were in the mountains and that it might get cold at night. Paxton's fish - who'd made it completely across the country just fine - had been left in the truck in the cold, and didn't make it. We'd brought him into the hotel with us the nights we knew it was going to get cold, but were fooled by the warm Arizona evening. We felt HORRIBLE. Paxton was of course sad, but handled it better than either one of us would have expected. He seemed as excited as the rest of us that it was our last day of driving, and that we were only 3 hours away from our new home. We fueled up at a nice breakfast buffet, complete with belgian waffles, and let Everett run up and down the corridors while Mike loaded up the truck. We took it easy on the 2 hour drive down to Anthem, both because we didn't want to blow another tire and plummet off the side of the mountain, and because our overloaded trailer didn't let us do otherwise. The views coming down into Phoenix were, as we remembered, spectacular.

We got to my sister's house at noon, and it was like no time had passed between us.. certainly not 4 months. We chatted and visited, and the kids wasted no time getting down to the business of playing with their cousins. It was warm and sunny and happy, and it felt good just to be there. We called our realtor and set up a time to meet her at our house. As we drove down to Tempe, I was literally so excited that I thought I was going to hyperventilate. I had to keep telling myself, and the kids (who were nearly bouncing off the ceiling) to calm down. We underestimated how much time it would take to get there, and we were 15 minutes late meeting the realtor. The house was very easy to find off the highway, and the area was just as she'd promised - a nice, clean, beautiful family neighborhood. She promised we wouldn't be disappointed, and we were not. One misconception I think people have about Arizona in general is that everything is drab and brown, and it's just not. As we drove into the development there was green grass and palm trees, petunias and marigolds, and a whole bunch of gorgeous blooming bushes that I've yet to learn the name of. It was everything we'd hoped for... and if it hadn't been for the occasional crying, the fever, the blown-out tire, and the dead fish, the trip would've been too perfect. We made it safely across the country together, and it's all good.

"Somewhere Out There...."

It got kind of long because she got herself in a loop and kept repeating the same line over and over and over... And the camera started shaking because I was laughing for the same reason.  But in my not at all humble opinion, I think it's pretty darn cute.  A bright spot in what turned out to be a not-too-bright day. 

I'm Sorry

I heard two "I'm sorry"s before 7 A.M. today.  The first was when Mike was saying goodbye to me just after six.  I told him that the terrible headache I'd had for the past three days still hadn't gone away.  He hadn't caused the headache, but he said he was sorry to express his empathy over the fact that I wasn't feeling well.  About half an hour later, Tegan rolled over in bed, and the back of her head collided with my face.  It had of course been an accident, but I instinctively yelped when my tooth met my lip.  Realizing I was hurt, she too said she was sorry.

A couple of nights ago, Paxton was in our room talking with us, and Spencer had thought he'd gone to bed.  Trying to be helpful, he shut down the PS3 (on which Paxton had a game paused),  and turned off the TV.  When Paxton came back out, he realized that the progress that he'd been working on for the past hour and a half had been lost, and was understandably upset.  Spencer felt terribly about the mistake, and sincerely apologized.  

I myself have given dozens of "sorry"s over the past several days... from the small (bumping into Spencer in the kitchen) to the significant (expressing condolences to a high school friend whose husband recently passed from cancer).

I tell my kids I'm sorry when I've been less than patient.  I tell my husband I'm sorry when I've spoken unkindly. 

Yes, "I'm sorry" are two very commonly spoken words in this house, as I imagine they are in most houses.  Kids pick up on them - and their meaning - as well as any other words.    So I honestly wonder:

Why do parents think they need to make their children say they're sorry?  Perhaps more importantly, what exactly do they think that forcing an apology is going to accomplish?  Just like respect, being sorry is a feeling.   You cannot make someone feel something.  You could make your child SAY they are sorry, but if they're not feeling particularly sorry, what have you delivered, beyond insincere words?  I don't want my kids to deliver insincere apologies, and I certainly don't want to be the one coaching them to do so. 

Children learn how to treat people from their parents.  If they have parents that say please and thank you, then they will say please and thank you.  If they have parents who say sorry, then they will say sorry.  They will learn social intricacies like they learn everything else, as they experience them.    If they are around people who care about them, and care about others, they will learn.   No coercion necessary.  They are human.  They will screw up, they will make mistakes, they will unintentionally hurt someone's feelings.... and when they do, they will know, without even having to stop to think about it, that they should apologize.  It's what human beings do.  And what if they say or do something in anger, and just don't really feel sorry yet?

Let's be honest for a minute.

Adults do this all the time.  We'll have words with someone, or a confrontation, or a conflict.  Maybe someone has done something really hurtful, and maybe we responded in a way that we're not particularly proud of.  Deep down, we know that "I'm sorry" would be an appropriate way to follow up, but we're just not ready to say it.  Or maybe we're so angry or hurt that we don't even feel it.   So we take a day, or twelve days, or a month, until we're able to honestly say, "You know what?  I didn't handle that well, and I'm really sorry."   The difference is, as adults, we don't generally have someone standing over us saying, "Jennifer!  You go apologize to her right now!"

I don't make my kids apologize.  They're in charge of their own apologies.  And if I'm at a playground, and one of them does something that hurts or offends another child, and for whatever reason they don't apologize, then I will say that I'm sorry  that whoever-it-was did whatever-they-did.  Because I'll mean it.  But to be completely honest, I can't remember the last time I've had to do it.  Ninety nine times out of a hundred if an apology is warranted, then they will give it of their own accord.   And just like Tegan when she realized she'd given me a fat lip, they'll mean it.

Alice's Handmade Crafts Giveaway

For my first giveaway, I have an adorable offering from my friend - and fellow unschooler - Alice, who runs Alice's Handmade Crafts.

My business started mostly as an excuse to make things for little girls. I have 3 boys, and it wasn't long before I ran out of nieces and friends with girls to give away tutus and crocheted flower hats to. So I started an etsy shop almost a year ago, and really love having it. I've always felt a need to create things, and this is the perfect outlet for me. My biggest seller is definitely the hat with flowers on top, with tutus as a close second. My newest item is the flower accessory and I'm hoping they'll be popular as well. But my favorite projects, and the ones I'm most proud of, are my embroidered products. They are my most intricate items, and the ones I feel like I can really put myself into through design and color. They are also the only things I make specifically for adults, which may be part of the reason I love to make them. You may notice there's nothing of that description for sale in my shop right now...because they are also the most time-consuming! Between unschooling my 3 boys (6, 4, and 1) and expecting twin girls this spring, there's not a lot of free time around here. But I do take custom orders for all of my products, including embroidery, so be sure to check out my "Sold Items" section to get an idea of what I've embroidered in the past. Become a fan of my Facebook page; my shop's one year anniversary is next month and I'll be putting a coupon code on my Facebook page to celebrate!

Today's giveaway item is one of Alice's new, hand-crocheted flowers, in ivory. It's value is $8, and it is perfect for tying on a baby girl's head for a newborn photoshoot, tying around a ponytail on an older child, tying on a wrist like a bracelet, decorating a purse or a package... anything you'd like to decorate!

Want to win it?  Just comment on this post... any old comment will do.  (If you've come from Facebook, make sure you comment here, not on Facebook)  If you'd like to enter twice, just post the link to this giveaway on Facebook or Twitter, then come back and comment again to tell me you've done it.  :)   I'll keep this open for one week, and announce the winner (chosen randomly) on Monday, February 21.

Check out Alice's Etsy Store to see some of her other popular items, like her best-selling hats:

tutus:

and custom embroidery:

Thank you to Alice and Alice's Handmade Crafts.  And good luck!

Giveaways!

Forty three days into my blog-a-day challenge to myself, and a funny thing has happened. Blogging has become less about pontificating for the sake of pontificating (though I do love my pontificating) and more about interacting. I've realized the past several weeks how much I truly love the give and take, and the feedback, and the sharing that a blog allows. I don't think I've really appreciated that aspect of it until very recently. Starting the Facebook page has surely helped in that regard, as have those of you who've passed my link onto others.

And as I've spent more time on my own blog, I've also been spending time perusing others... seeing what I like, seeing what I don't like, seeing what works, and seeing what doesn't.

My own personal favorite blogs are the blogs that make visiting fun, whether it's just through a light writing style, a sense of humor, or lots of pictures.

Oh yeah, and the giveaways.

Giveaways are an awesome way to interact, and a chance to learn about great products and small mom-owned businesses that you might not otherwise have heard of.  And they're FUN!  So, doing a giveaway seemed like the next logical step in creating this little corner of the blogosphere.   I had to do a giveaway.   I'm going to do a giveaway of my own making at some point (homemade vegan lip balm anyone??)  but thanks to two beautiful volunteers, I get to start with something even better.

My very first giveaway will be tomorrow, in honor of my I-don't-celebrate-Valentine's-Day celebration, and I have another in the works for next week.  I am so excited! 

If you're a mom who has a unique product or business, and would like to donate something for a giveaway and get some more exposure for your site, drop me a message.  And make sure you come back tomorrow for giveaway number one!

Best Friends

When I was six years old, my best friend was Heather Weant. I haven't seen Heather for about 29 years, but if I close my eyes I can still see her face, and I can still hear her laugh, and I can still remember what her house looked like. I moved away the summer before second grade, and while we exchanged a couple of letters in the beginning, I have absolutely no idea what ended up happening to her. Still, it's with fondness that I remember this childhood friend. Almost like a first love (who I also remember with fondness), I think there's always a special place for that first real best friend.

This picture - quickly shot in a dark restaurant on a cell phone - is Everett and his own Heather Weant. I don't know where their lives are going to take them, and though I'd sincerely hope they'll always be friends, I know that there could come a time that they'll go their separate ways.

I also know that those early friendships are special, and precious, and something to be treasured. I thank God for both the times that they are sharing now, and for the future memories that they will become.

My Ode to Valentine's Day

I sort of hate Valentine's Day. Not with quite the amount of passion that I hate it when people text when they drive, or use apostrophes when they pluralize their family name... but I hate it all the same.

Even as a kid, I remember the anxiety I'd feel over those Valentines parties at school... having to have a perfectly decorated box, and picking the right cards, and comparing and analyzing what the cute boy that both myself and my best friend had a crush on wrote on our valentines. It was nerve-wracking.

And in high school, they always sold carnations on Valentine's Day. People would buy them for their significant others (or their crushes, or their pawns in making other people jealous) Then a big deal would be made about delivering said carnations to students during their classes. A lovely and exciting thing if you were one of the people receiving a carnation. I never was. If I did have a boyfriend, we were broken up by the time February rolled around. My junior year, I actually had a boyfriend in February, and as silly as it was, I was excited to think that I'd get a carnation on Valentine's Day. I would get to be the one to ooh and ahh over my beautiful carnation and my thoughtful boyfriend while the rest of the class waited to see if they too, were going to experience the thrill of that artificially dyed flower and crinkly paper.  My excitement was short-lived however, as he broke up with me ON Valentine's Day.

I will always remember that afternoon in French class, when my teacher was calling on students to ask them what they were doing for their valentine.  And when he called on me, I had the distinct honor of being the only one to have to answer:

Je n'ai pas Valentin.

That was the year that I officially swore off the holiday forever. (Yes, Mike W, you were the one who ruined me for the most romantic holiday of the year. For the rest of my life.) I'm kidding. Kind of. But oh how that high school drama hurt at the time!

The following summer, of course, I would meet my now husband. I have had the same "valentine" now for 20 years. And to his credit, when we were newly together and he was still "wooing" me, he did get me flowers and chocolate and sweet little nothings on Valentine's Day. One year, after we were married but before we had kids, he even booked a special weekend away as a surprise.

But I still hate Valentine's Day. I do. I'm the Valentine's version of Scrooge. Going in to the grocery store right now makes my skin crawl.... all the balloons and pinks and hearts and flowers and cards... It's so commercialized and driven by money and just... icky. My biggest objection though is just the fact that it's a specific day set aside to tell people that we love them, to be sweet and kind and giving because it's Valentine's Day. Shouldn't we be doing those things anyway? Whatever happened to a gift of chocolate on a Tuesday, in the middle of June? Wouldn't it mean so much more then, when it's "just because"? Why not send your loved ones nice notes any random old time that you're thinking of them? Why not get your best friend (or your husband or your child) that present that you know they'll love now, instead of waiting for Valentine's Day, or Christmas, or their birthday? Why not surprise your spouse with a fancy candlelit dinner in the middle of the week, on March 17th, just because you want to?

It should be noted that because I don't want to pass my anti-Valentine bias onto the kids, we don't completely ignore it. They've participated in many a Valentine party, and I never pass up an excuse (any excuse) to try a new cupcake recipe. But I just think there's something odd, and silly at best, to a holiday that's devoted to love and romance, and a sentiment that should be part of our lives year-round.

Or maybe I'm still bitter about those darn carnations.

Either way, I'm greatly looking forward to the 15th.

The Eyes Have It

Spencer and a friend went to a class at the science center today, where they learned about, and dissected, a cow's eyeball. Paxton had opted out, and Everett was home fighting off a cold, but Spencer was very excited to do this particular class. One of his favorite TV shows is Dr G: Medical Examiner, and he relished the chance to play medical examiner himself for awhile.

He came home talking about corneas and irises, blind spots and eye juices. And he's now pretty sure he does not want to go into the field of pathology when he grows up.

Feeling Crafty

By nature, I'm a highly disorganized person. I've blogged about it before, so this is not anything new. I tend to make a mess out of everything I touch. But the fact remains that I will forever be in love with things that make me FEEL like I'm being organized. I walk through Staples and Office Max and just sigh with pleasure.

So I get very excited when I come across do-it-yourself organizational projects, especially quick ones, and even more especially, cheap ones.

Someone posted this idea for a free menu planner, and I thought, "You know what I don't have?  A free menu planner."  As much as I like the concept of planning meals in advance....  ah, well, you know the rest.  Nice in theory, but in practice, not so much.  But maybe if I have a fun menu planner, I'll actually use it.  And it's cute.  And it's free!  So after three failed attempts (I have issues printing things at the correct size) I printed it out:

Next was a trip to the Dollar Tree with the two little ones, for a $1 frame. 

I trimmed the heck out of it, 

Put it in my dollar store frame, and grabbed a dry erase marker (Is there anything greater than dry erase markers?!)  And voila.  For a dollar, some ink, and a couple of minutes of time, we now have a nice, reusable, menu planner.  And the illusion of organization.

Regrets, and saying "yes"

I try really hard not to live with regrets.  Regret, like worry, is a wasted feeling.  Nothing productive can come of it, and both make it impossible to live fully, and joyfully in the moment.  But if I could go back to when I was a new mom ... there are things I would have done differently, to be sure.  A couple are big ones that I'm going to have to live with:  I cannot go back and have the homebirth that I'd deep down really wanted from the start, and never had, and I cannot uncircumcise my oldest son.

:(

But, I find it very empowering to 1) admit that I wished I'd done certain things differently, 2) forgive myself for doing the best I could with the information and knowledge I had at the time, and 3) Learn from my mistakes!

One thing that I wish I'd done right from the start was to say "yes" more.  So many little things that could have brought joy to my kids that I just dismissed out of hand, for no good reason.   I was tired, or I didn't feel like it, or it would make a mess, or I didn't want to spend the money, or spend the time.....

I've learned from that mistake.

I say "yes" now, unless I have a darn good reason.  I've been saying "yes" for a long time now, but I still have those fleeting moments of regret, those reminders that it has been a process to get here.  Those reminders that Spencer didn't get at many "yes"s as a toddler as the others. 

Today we went to to Toys R Us so that Spencer could spend some birthday money.  He picked out a game and some accessories for his DS, I got Tegan a Dora coloring book she wanted, and the boys all bought themselves snacks on the way out.  Outside the store was one of those little coin operated merry-go-rounds.  Tegan had pointed it out to me on the way in, so I knew she'd want to ride it on the way out.   She asked as soon as we reached it, and I was ready with my "yes."

She rode it three times, until I ran out of quarters... laughing and singing as she went around and around.   I watched her enjoying it, and enjoyed it with her, but there was that tiny part of me that thought about the fact that 10 years ago I probably would've said "Not this time,"  or "Maybe another day," or "We need to get home."  And why? 

Because the germs kind of gross me out.
Because I'm always tired at the end of any sort of shopping trip.
Because I didn't want to stand around in front of a store.
Because I didn't want to go fishing for quarters.

In other words, for NO GOOD REASON.

I've learned from my mistakes.

It took about 5 minutes of our time, and $1.50 in quarters.... and it created a moment of total joy for a three year old.  What was I going to do with that five minutes and 6 quarters anyway?  Surely nothing as important as making my daughter happy.

Today, I will say yes.  Tomorrow, I will say yes.  If it's at all physically possible, and if it'll make my kids look like this:

I will say YES.

What are we proud of?

Little Johnny made the honor roll again.  Suzy gets 100% on all her spelling tests, and is reading above her grade level.  Bob aced his SATs.  Karen got accepted into Dartmouth.  Steve made the Dean's list.  Henry landed a high-paying job with a big signing bonus.  Ken and Tina bought a new house with the white picket fence when they were still fresh from their honeymoon.

Those are all nice and lovely - if you care about those kinds of things - but...

What does it even mean?  Is this what we're on the earth for?  To participate in some great race to... somewhere... where the prizes are good grades and gold stars, bonuses and promotions?  I see so many people measuring success (both their children's and their own) on the above sort of criteria.  They're so proud of those report cards, so proud of those awards.

I don't know about you, but I want more than that.  I want something that means something.  And to be totally honest, when people gush with pride about their child's grades, while I will smile and nod and make appropriate congratulatory remarks... inside, my true knee-jerk response is something akin to "So what?"  To say that I'm remarkably unimpressed with things like grades is a gross understatement.  They just don't matter to me, and my list of objections to their very presence is lengthy.

But I'll pretend, for the sake of argument, that I do care, that I do think that things like grades are a good measure of success.  And I'll take it a step further, and say that the fancy college is a good measure of success too, as well as the high-paying job and the big sprawling house.  This is how society measures success, and for one (highly uncomfortable) moment, I'll go along with society.  Good grades, fancy colleges, high paying jobs = success.  Fine.  

But there's still a problem.  Even if all those things do truly measure success (and I'm still saying that they do) ...

They still don't measure character
They still don't measure joy
They still don't measure love
They still don't measure peace
They still don't measure kindness
They still don't measure compassion
They still don't measure gentleness

These are the things that make me proud of my kids. 

The rest of it... the grades, the schools, the jobs, the achievements... it's all just extra "stuff."  Strip all of that away, and underneath we are all people.  I'm not nearly as interested in hearing about your pride for your kids in terms of their labels - your son the scholar, your daughter the athlete - as I am in hearing about your child the PERSON.  

What happens when a parent decides ahead of time what it is that's going to make them proud... whether it's scholastic achievement, sports, the arts, a future career... and the child takes an entirely different path?  What happens when that parent has two or more children, and one meets their expectations and the others don't?  I have seen firsthand what it does to a child to grow up with his or her parents subtly and not-so-subtly disappointed in them, not as satisfied with them, not as proud of them as their siblings.   I told myself a long time ago that if I were ever blessed with children that I would not be that parent... that I would let MY KIDS show me who they are, and let MY KIDS teach me what they can be, and do;  and let MY KIDS be the ones to unfold all the different aspects of themselves that make me proud. 

And I am proud, of all four of them... in many different ways, but also in some fundamentally similar ways.  I'm proud of who they are as people, and you just can't measure that with a grade or a test or a job offer.

The older I get the more that I ask myself, "Will this matter at the end of my life?"  Is your grave stone going to be engraved with your SAT scores, or your stock portfolio, or the fact that you made six figures at a thankless job? 

No, it's not.  It's going to say that you were very loved.  The rest of that stuff?  It just doesn't matter.

This quote (often attributed to Emerson) sums it up best:

To laugh often and much;
to win the respect of intelligent people
    and the affection of children;
to earn the appreciation of honest critics
    and endure the betrayal of false friends;
to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others;
to leave the world a bit better,
    whether by a healthy child,
    a garden patch
    or a redeemed social condition;
to know even one life has breathed easier
    because you have lived.
This is to have succeeded.

My kids are succeeding.  And for that, I am proud.

More Than the Super Bowl

Superbowl 2011

Today was the Superbowl, which meant we bought a bunch of food we only have on our special "carpet picnic" occasions, we put a sheet on the floor, and we all gathered in the TV room to watch a bunch of yellow-pantsed people play football.

There was a penalty for "excessive celebrating". There was a half-time show.  Someone won. 

But tonight I'm really not thinking about the Superbowl.  Tonight, especially as I look at the above picture of four healthy children, I am thinking about Hunter Jones, Kate McRae, and Hannah Jenner.

Hunter Jones is a little boy the same age as my Everett, who is battling leukemia.  His sister donated bone marrow, and he had a transplant in November of 2010.  I don't know Hunter, but his mom is a fellow unschooling mom, and I think she's pretty awesome.   Hunter is on my mind often, especially since he's a Lego lover like my boys (and there is always a Lego in my line of sight).  How can you help?  You can pray.  You can like his Facebook page, you can offer his family support on their blog, and you can help support their family business by buying some of their raw, vegan Ridiculous Chocolate.

Kate McRae is local girl here in the valley, who is battling brain cancer.  Her parents have recently received some very discouraging news, and are still continuing to show myself and countless others what it means to truly have faith in even the most difficult circumstances.  Kate is never far from my thoughts either.  You can follow Kate's progress at her CaringBridge site, and more specifically, tomorrow you can join others in a day of fasting and prayer for her healing.  You can visit her father's blog to read his request.

Hannah Jenner was an always unschooled 9 year old who passed away from leukemia 5 years ago this month.   I first heard Hannah's story when her mother spoke at the Live and Learn conference we went to in September, 2006.  Even now, five years later, I often think about lessons she's taught me... lessons about treating my children with kindness, about not taking them for granted, about enjoying the moments we're together.  All the moments.  It was from the Jenners that I heard about celebrating half birthdays, something that we now do every year, for all of us.  And I think about Hannah every time.  This month, I'm thinking about her even more, especially these words from her obituary:

In lieu of flowers, the family requests outpourings of love and tender regard to every child, and gratitude on the part of parents of living children ...everywhere.

Tonight as I pray for these children, I also want to say thank you to all of the above families, for so openly and bravely sharing your stories, and your children, with all of us.  

Everett, anxieties, and midnight math

Everett is 6 1/2 at the time of this writing.  He is energetic, passionate, and affectionate.  He is also one of the happiest kids I know.... except when he isn't.  The past few months have been difficult for him, in a few different ways, and we are slowly and carefully navigating our way through to what we hope will be a calmer year for him. 

One of the areas that has given him trouble lately has been sleeping (an area in which, as most of you know, I can well relate!)  We've had an odd dynamic to our nighttime routine the past several weeks, but I think we are finally settling into a temporary solution that is working for everyone.  I say 'temporary' because if there's one thing I can count on with our young kids and sleeping arrangements, it is their fluidity.  As they grow and change, their needs change too.  We just try to stay flexible enough to keep up with them.

Prior to recently, Everett - along with his brothers - would go to bed as soon as he was tired, and would have no trouble going to sleep.  Lately though, he's really been having issues going to sleep, and doesn't want to be in his bedroom alone (which was creating a problem, given the fact that his 10 year old roommate generally stays up quite a bit later)  I couldn't stay with him, because nine times out of ten I'm laying down with the girl in our bed at the same time.  Mike couldn't stay with him either, because nine times out of ten he's in bed too, being the only one to have to rise at 5 in the morning.  And so..... now our nights look like this:

I usually go to bed with the girl whenever she is ready, and Mike joins us shortly thereafter.  Everett comes into our bed too,  and lays with us (king sized bed = best piece of "children's" furniture we ever invested in).  Spencer generally goes to bed next, and stops in to say goodnight when he's near our room to brush his teeth.  Paxton, an introvert  like his mom who really relishes his nightly time alone, is the last to turn in.  He stops in our room to collect Everett - who is sleeping by then - and the two of them head to their room together.

It works. 

And the bonus is that after Tegan's sleeping, and the room is dark and quiet, it's just another chance for a one-on-one late night connection with me and Everett as he quiets his mind enough to go to sleep.  Last night, just as I was about to drift off myself, we had a conversation that went something like this:

E:  Mommy?
Me:  Yes honey
E:  You know what I just realized?
Me:  What?
E:  Ten plus ten equals twenty.
Me:  You're right.

Pause.

E: Mommy?
Me: Yes
E:  You know how I know?
Me:  How?
E:  I was counting by fives.  Two fives is ten, and four fives is twenty.  You can make twenty with four groups of fives, or with two groups of ten.
Me:  You're right.  That's multiplication.
E:  It is?
Me:  Yep.
E:  Cool.  Goodnight Mommy.

Thirty seconds later, he was out.  And he was happy.

Respect, Part 2

When I wrote my last post about respect, I originally meant to write about respect and the way we interact with our children. But because I'm not much of a linear thinker (I tend to go from A to B to 7 to Z before I find my way back to my point), that particular post became about something else.

The whole thing really stemmed from a rather strong reaction that I got to my Making Peace With The Mess post.  The funny part about it is that I didn't think it was one of my more controversial posts.

But I digress again.

The argument was that my children were learning to be disrespectful, and that I was doing them a grave disservice by not making them respect their things, and by extension respect the people who bought them for them.  To be fair, that was not the first time I've heard that objection.  This post is not about, or aimed towards, that woman.... although I thank her in all sincerity for placing it on my heart to explore the concept further.  It's a good concept, one well worth talking about.

I think that one thing I failed to make clear in that "mess" post was that I do believe in taking responsibility for one's things, and actions, and person.  What I don't believe in is making my children behave in a certain way that fulfills my idea of a "respectful" person.  I don't MAKE them pick up their toys (but they do).  I don't MAKE them say 'please' and 'thank you' (but they do).  I don't MAKE them shake someone's hand when it's extended (but they do).

My philosophy in regards to respect and my children is no more complicated or simple than this:  I treat them the way I'd like to be treated.   I treat my spouse (and my parents and my sister and my friends) the way I'd like to be treated, and how I'd like them to treat others. 

Everyone complains that teens have no respect today, and that parents need to be tougher, need to be more strict, need to MAKE THEM SHOW RESPECT.  I contend that that is not the problem at all.  I think that parents need to be more involved with their kids, of all ages, and they need to show their KIDS the respect that they want to receive.   I think they need to show each other the respect they want to receive.  Don't we all know of a family with parents who belittle each other and name call... which has led to children who've learned to belittle and name call?

And besides the philosophical objection I have to forcing respect, it's not something that can even be done.  Why?  Because before it's an action, it's a feeling.  And while you may be able to force someone to do a lot of things, you cannot force them to feel something.  Their feelings are their own.  When a child is forced to do something (whether through command, or threat of punishment, or promise of reward), what do you suppose it is they're feeling?  I'm going to venture to say that it's not "Gee, my parents are swell.  I sure do respect them."

So then the argument becomes, "Well they don't appreciate it now, but they'll appreciate it when they're adults."  Okay.  I can't speak for my own children, since they are still children, but I can speak for myself.  I am 37 at the time of this writing, an adult by most anyone's standards.  And I do respect my parents, very much.  I respect them, and I appreciate them, and I am friends with them.  I respect them because they were kind to us, and kind to each other.  I respect them because they played with us, and read to us, and took us to interesting places and introduced us to interesting people.  I respect them because they worked hard to support us, and worked hard at maintaining a loving, cohesive family.  In many ways, they were the kind of parents that I myself am trying to be.  And I was a "good girl" growing up... almost always followed the rules, did what I was told, didn't try to buck the system (ironic, no?).  I very rarely got in trouble.

There is one specific instance though that will forever stand out in my mind;  the one time I got grounded.  I was in junior high school, and a friend and I missed the bus.  We decided that we'd walk to school (several miles away) so we wouldn't miss our play rehearsal after school.  First though, we thought we'd hang out at my house and make rock candy.   (And we did, and it was good!) But the school had called my mom at work, and my mom came home..... and to make a long story short, I was grounded, and forbidden to see or talk to my friend.  And while I'd love to say that I learned my lesson, and was properly repentant and forevermore more respectful towards my parents ... Um.  All it really did was make me sneak around to see my friend behind their back without their knowledge.  But the grounding gave me time to think about what I'd done, right?  In all honesty, I thought the whole thing was funny.  I still think it's funny.   And I say that with no disrespect. It's just that I was a kid, having a momentarily lapse in judgment, like a lot of kids (and adults). I wasn't being a "bad" kid;  I was being a kid who was trying something I'd never tried before.

I share that story to share the fact that it was not the few times that they were "tough" with me that made me respect them..... it was the many, many times that they were not.  It was the times that they spoke to me gently, and patiently, and calmly.  The times when they were first and foremost my friends.

I see so many parents demanding that their children be respectful, but who are not respectful to their children themselves, whether through tone, words, or actions.  A mom was complaining to me once that her son had started talking back, and being disrespectful.  She said when she tried to tell him to do something he'd say, "You just zip your lip!"  I asked her where he'd heard it, and she said "It's something we say to him all the time........ I guess we shouldn't say that anymore, huh."  

We know we can do better.

Shouldn't we at least hold ourselves to the same standards that we hold for other people?   If we'd like our kids to be respectful, wouldn't it only make sense to TREAT THEM with respect?  When I feel like something is "off" with my relationship with the kids, when there are kinks in our family dynamic, I don't think about how to change the kids' attitudes and actions.  I think about how to change mine.   I think about where I've been lacking, and I think about how I can improve.  And every time - every single time - when I make the adjustment in myself, things get better.

We behave as well as we're treated.

And at the end of the day, I can feel good knowing that my kids treat me, and themselves, and others with respect because they want to.    Because they truly feel it, and not because it was something that they were "taught" to do. 

An Important Message From Tegan

The girl and I are usually the first two out of bed in the morning (excluding Mike, who is long gone for work before we even think about getting up) Most mornings, I check my email and Facebook, and she sits in my lap while she wakes up. This morning we were looking through some new pictures posted by a friend, and she was asking questions about the kids she was seeing.

I don't mind answering questions. Not only do I not mind it, but I appreciate it, and I relish it. It's such a huge component of any interaction with a toddler! And it's sweet to sit with her, just the two of us, and look at pictures together.

But,

She asks hard questions. Questions with answers that I just have no way of knowing, at least not with the kind of detail she would like. And so, I would like to request (on behalf of my daughter) that when you caption your children's pictures on Facebook, that you take just a quick second and include the following:

The names and ages of everyone in the picture.

The name and age of the person taking the picture.

If the person taking the picture is a parent, whether or not the children in the picture have another parent, and where that parent is at the time of the picture taking. Especially whether or not they are in the bathroom (and if they're in the bathroom, whether they are going #1 or #2. Or are in the shower. Or the bath.)

Whether or not the children in the picture have a dog or a fish or chickens.

Why they're wearing the clothes they're wearing, and where they got them, and whether or not someone helped them get dressed.

Who combed their hair, and did they have tangles.

Whether or not their shirts have buttons in the back.

If it's taken outside, how long the trees have been there.

If their legs aren't showing, whether or not they do in fact have some, and whether or not they can walk.

And finally... a brief description of why you took the picture, why you put it on Facebook, and what you did when you were done.

Thank you.

Wednesday Wisdom

One of the questions - which isn't really a question, but a request - that unschoolers get alot is "Describe a typical day."

I think a "typical" day is a really subjective thing, and depends on a whole bunch of factors.  But my favorite days, which are just as typical as any other - are the days when I can go to bed thinking, "Dang, we learned/talked about/did/saw some cool things today."

Here's a little sample of what we learned and talked about today:

What the expressions "Another country heard from," "Opening a can of worms", and "The early bird catches the worm" mean

The role that yeast plays in baking

The fact that if you pour orange juice into milk, that you can't "turn into back into milk" no matter how much you want to.

What the word "sous" means

When the first dishwasher was invented, and when it became commonplace for the average American to have one.

The difference between a debit card and a credit card

What elephant pee smells like (it does not, as Zoey 101 would have you believe, smell like licorice)

Ways to preserve a laptop battery

How to fill out a check

And finally, when the 3 year old says, "I just love baking powder SO MUCH!" it means she's eating powdered sugar, straight from the bag, and that there will more than likely be a mess involved.

I can't wait for our next typical day.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

"Find out what it means to me!"
Now that I've put the song in your head....

My dad likes to joke, "You're entitled to your own opinion, even if you're wrong."  But he's only half joking.  He generally says it when he's talking about something that he has very strong opinions about.  And I think it's good to have strong opinions.  It's good to own your beliefs, and your convictions, and your ideals. 

And while being open-minded is a good, and admirable thing, shouldn't we all be so sure of our inner truth, and where we stand on an issue, that we feel we're "right"?  And I don't mean that in a confrontational "my way or the highway" fashion.  Not at all.  In fact, I think when we're really sure of something, deep down in our hearts, we don't feel the need to argue the point at all.   Why would anyone want to argue when they're truly at peace?  When what they think, feel, and say are in alignment?

I've been thinking a lot about the word 'respect' lately, and how loosely we use it in regards to other people's opinions.

With all due respect...
I respectfully disagree...
While I respect your opinion...

What does it even mean?   I feel like it's just become something we say, something we feel we're supposed to say, without stopping to think about whether we even mean it.  I get insincerely "respected" a lot, especially lately.  People will tell me that they respect people who unschool, but.... and then will proceed to tell me all the reasons why they don't, in fact, respect it at all. 

And that's ok.  They don't have to respect it. 

Here are a couple of definitions for respect, per dictionary.com:

1. A feeling of appreciative, often deferential regard; esteem.

2. The state of being regarded with honor or esteem.

3. Willingness to show consideration or appreciation.

If we fundamentally disagree with something, are we really going to feel appreciative about it?  Or regard it with honor or esteem or deferential regard?  

We should love one another, yes.
We should treat one another kindly, yes.
We should act in a respectful manner, yes.

But if we're being honest... truly being honest... I don't think we really feel as many respects as we throw around.  I think in many cases, it's just become a word, another thing we're supposed to say to be politically correct.   

I think it's entirely possible to disagree and still respect someone's opinion, but I don't think it's a given.  And I cannot say it if I don't feel it.  I can't. 

These are easy for me to say, because I feel them:

I choose to stay home with my kids, but I respect moms who choose to work outside the home.
I have a strong faith in God, but I respect other religions.
I am happily married to a man, but I respect same-sex relationships.

But there are other issues, particularly dealing with some of the choices people make as parents, that I just can't respect.  I can't.  I can't respect them, and I respect myself enough not to say that I do when I don't.  I was going to list them, but you know what they are.  If you know me, or read my blog, you know.  And you may make think that makes me judgmental or intolerant (and I respect that.  ha.) , but I think it just makes me honest. 

You can feel free to disagree.  You're entitled to your opinion.  Even if you're wrong. :)