Posts

On Leaving a Legacy

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Image from Flickr.com This past week, a Christian blogger passed away. I did not really follow her story too closely, nor did I know her, but my social media feeds have exploded with posts during her final weeks, including a post posted after her death to her readers. This woman had an intense impact on many people. Her words were beautiful. Her love for her family was deeply obvious. Two years ago today, a young woman I grew up connected to also died of cancer. She left behind five children and a loving husband. Not a blogger and less a public figure, although married to one, her life and death no less touched many, especially the joy with which she traveled through her final days. Her funeral was livestreamed and attended by hundreds. Sometimes when I hear of the impact and legacies left behind by women like that, I find myself comparing my life to theirs. Would I have rooms full of friends at my death bed? I doubt it. Would I have an audience full of people readi
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On Mommyhood and Teasing

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"Mom, I'm not going to tell you who I played with today." My mommy radar goes up. "Oh really? Was it someone younger than you?" "Nope, it wasn't a girl at all." "Oh, was it a boy then?" "Yeah," Then comes a story of innocent teasing as is common with most children. It's nothing major. But it hurts. As she sits there, shoulders heaving with the effort of unloading, my mind races back. I'm in sixth grade. We're in line for the restroom. He stands a few people behind me in the boys' line. The cool guy. The cute one. "Nicole has a little horse, little horse, little horse. Nicole has a little horse, and oh she loves it so." He sings. Innocent? Maybe, but it was done in jest and it stung. I shrunk a little inside myself to keep from crying. I wanted to hide. The teacher didn't notice. I felt ashamed by my love for horses. "I just don't get it. I mea
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Miss M (Has Been for a While) Is Five!

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Five and a half years ago, God blessed us with this 10 lb. 4 oz bundle of energy. Miss M, one day old Miss M, one year old Miss M, two years old Miss M, three years old. Miss M, four years old Miss M, Age 5 In the midst of moving, first birthday parties and rental house prep, I just realized that I never did Miss M's fifth-birthday post. So here's to you Miss M, my big 5 (and a half) year old. At age 5, Miss M has conquered quite a few fears. She's getting more and more comfortable swimming, has conquered the fear of "real school" and even dealt with her first bully. That was an experience, let me tell you! This year, my sweet M has changed into one of the sweetest, most thoughtful children I know. While she has her moments, as any child does, I can count on her to be thinking in a sensitive way. She tears up when Pluto gets yelled at by Mickey Mouse on the TV, and worries about her family all the time because she loves them. T
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It Gets Better!

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I know there's probably no one left who reads this blog, but I want to say one thing to encourage those parenting a difficult child. It gets better. Shower them with love and be as consistent as you can, and it gets better. If you have been my Facebook friend for a few years, you may know that there was a very difficult period with one of my children when she was in the toddler and early preschool years. There were days I questioned my sanity. There were days I questioned (my mom can attest to this) whether or not I was fit to parent this child. I recall vividly sitting on the floor in the hallway on that nasty blue carpet in our old house crying because I didn't know what to do, while she sat on the other side of the wall screaming and throwing a tantrum I was sure would cause the neighbors to call the cops. I recall far too many times I lost my temper because I just didn't know what else to do. I was even told once that it didn't appear I loved this child
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Happy 7th Birthday Miss N (VERY Late)

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In the last four months, life has been a whirlwind. We found out in January-ish that moving into a larger home was very much a possibility. Thus began a scramble to find a home, move and find renters for our current home. I'm thrilled to say that God caused it all to line up perfectly, but in the midst of that all I realized I failed to do Miss N's seventh birthday post. This year in March my oldest daughter turned seven. She's making the transition from little girl to just "girl." I can't really call her little anymore, even though she is short in stature, and probably will be my shortest as they grow. Turning seven has brought a bit of maturity to my child. It's also caused a spunky, fun-loving side to really come out. She always has something to say, and always thinks her idea is the best. Often, I must admit it is, which is challenging as a parent who wants to teach modesty and the ability to not manipulate but to appreciate others. When
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The Scheduling Dilemma

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I've been thinking about our schedule lately. It's really pretty crazy, and frankly, I am missing my big girl. My typical day is this: get up in the morning, feed the family, make lunches, send them out the door, work for three-ish hours, pick up Miss M, bring her home for an hour and a half, pick up Miss N, go to whatever after school activity we have, come home, homework, dinner, baths (if we are lucky) and bed so we can do it all again the next day. Somewhere in all that I need to find time to go to the grocery store, cook meals and care for a very busy baby, all while juggling my business as well. On days Miss M doesn't have school it's a bit less harried, but that will all change. Next year is kindergarten. I miss the days of preschool a few days a week, playdates and going to the mall just to play. We haven't been to the children's museum in ages. My mantra of late has been "There isn't time." We are over scheduled, but the pr
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Catching my Breath

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Last night, I held baby girl a little tighter, snuggled her a little longer.  Miss C, Nine Months  It was only a brief second. I looked away from her to see her big sisters in the pool. She was carefully confined between me, the well-railed edge of the parent viewing balcony, and a bench behind us. After watching her sister perform a new feat in the water at swim lessons, I looked back down and she was gone. In the two minutes or less I had my eyes off her, she had crawled over the ledge of the bench and to the top of the full flight of cement stairs. By the time I screamed her name, leaped over the bench and got to her, her hand was out to start the tumble down the stairs. I scooped her up in my arms, heart racing at the thought of what almost happened, took her back to our spot and kept not only my eyes, but also my hands, on her the rest of the time. When it was time to leave, I shuddered when I saw the rail next to the stairs. The perfect height for her to try
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