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Sports World

January 23, 2012 by

BRAG ALERT! BRAG ALERT! BRAG ALERT! BRAG ALERT! BRAG ALERT! BRAG ALERT!

My husband is a freakishly good athlete. It’s actually annoying, really, how good he is a sports. He can play pretty much any sport well and when I say well, I mean better than the average population.

In college, one of my favorite past times was rollerblading. Oftentimes, I went out with a bunch of guy friends and I prided myself in being able to at least keep up with them as we buzzed around the Baylor campus, leaping down flights of stairs and doing various tricks without helmets…

So when Lee and I were dating and he told me he had never been on roller blades, I jumped at the chance to take him because I figured finally something I could do better.

Within fifteen minutes on his roller blades he was jumping, turning circles, skating backwards and doing tricks I would never even dare to try.

Punk.

It is with a small ridiculously large amount of glee that I tell you, however, that my husband can’t water ski to save his life. Image Gumby trying to get up on skis and that is about what Lee looks like. It is like a balm to my wounded pride to watch him water ski because I can do that better!

Anyway, the point is, my husband is an amazing athlete. He was a full ride scholarship collegiate basketball player. He was asked to play basketball professionally in Germany just before we got married. And we declined. It is our greatest regret to this day.

So it’s no surprise that I have three kids who are all good little athletes, with the youngest being so much like his Dad it’s a little eery. Landon is a natural with a ball. He always has been. Remember this video?

If you can get past my husband’s glaring hotness you’ll see a then 18 month old Landon dribbling the ball beautifully. Today, he can dribble with both hands while walking. Lee has him dribbling to the beat of music and many days, when he’s decided he’s had enough of the school thing, I can hear the basketball rhythmically bouncing outside…or inside.

And this Saturday, Landon’s four year old dreams came true when he got to start basketball. It was just a YMCA league so we could start slow, but Landon didn’t care. As we headed out Saturday morning, he confidently told us he was headed to the NBA finals.

Tell me, is there anything cuter than a four year old playing basketball?

Defense!

He scored four out of the five baskets his team made.

Landon isn’t the only Stuart child to get their father’s athleticism, though. Sloan is also a pretty amazing little athlete. While he enjoys basketball, the agression of that sport doesn’t match his personality, but baseball and golf are right up his alley.

In fact, we had a pro golf player pull us aside last week and tell us to start getting Sloan lessons and enrolling him in tournaments because he’s a natural with the golf club. “He could be great,” the instructor told us and I believe it. I’ve always known Sloan was gifted in golf, but it was so nice to hear it affirmed by someone else.

I don’t know much about golf, but apparently this is a great swing. I have pictures of him doing this when he was three. The first time we took Sloan to the driving range, he had just turned three. Lee set down a golf and we watched as he hit ball after ball anywhere from 25 to 50 yards.

College ticket?

And of course, Tia loves gymnastics and while she isn’t quite as coordinated with a ball, I could see her being a great soccer player. Mainly because I think she’ll bowl over anyone who tries to take the ball from her. She may have inherited the full brunt of her Daddy’s competitiveness.

Honestly, all three of my kids could grow up to be just average athletes. It doesn’t matter to me whether they’re great at sports or not. I want them to play what they love and love what they play. Sports are secondary. More than anything, though, I love the relationship that is growing between us and the kids as we bond over athletics. It’s fun. We love to go out in the yard as a family and just play.

And this picture is worth far more than any word I’ve typed today. It communicates wholly and fully the love and admiration that my kids have for their Dad and there’s a reason for that.

As good as Lee is as an athlete, he far more excels at being a father.

My children are blessed. (I might be, too).

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Lee, Sports Tagged With: , ,

Pass the Bon Bon’s Please

January 13, 2012 by

I’m writing this with a cup of coffee by my side. My hair is a mess and I have no make up on. I haven’t brushed my teeth yet and so far all I’ve managed to accomplish this morning is putting a few dishes in the sink, dressing my four year old (and doling out a few dozen kisses and hugs) and eating some eggs that my husband made for me.

You heard that, right?

I didn’t even make breakfast for anyone this morning. My oldest fed his sister, my husband fed me and the four year old doesn’t want to eat.

Some would call me lazy. Literally. Watch this clip. Those two women think I’m lazy and that I’m using my family as an excuse to not take care of responsibilities.

I watched this clip last night with a bit of amusement because, really? Are we really still having this debate? Did someone really spend time and money on research to determine that working moms are happier than stay at home moms?

And what qualifies happier? What does that even mean?

If I can get my obviously underused brain charged enough to make a decent argument, I would tell you that I think the panel of women featured on this segment do not speak for the majority of women. I get it. Controversial statements like “stay at home moms are lazy” stir emotion and emotion increases viewership.

Good job Mr. Cooper.

But really? Is anyone else tired of this argument? For every study that says working moms are happier, there is one that says kids are better off with a parent at home. And what does every single one of these arguments do for us moms?

Keeps us locked in guilt.

Working moms feel guilty that they can’t provide the stable environment that “the studies” claim children need and stay at home moms feel guilty for not being “more responsible” and contributing financially to the family. You know what I say?

STOP IT!

Motherhood is hard. It’s the hardest thing any of us will ever do. And if you’re not outright abusing or neglecting your child, then chances are you are doing everything in your power to do the right thing for him. I have friends who work outside the home not because they have to, but because they love it. They love their jobs and working outside the home gives them joy and pleasure.

This makes me happy.

I have friends who work outside the home because they have to. The circumstances of life simply require this of them and though they may not love it, they do it everyday with grateful hearts because in this economy, if you have a job that’s a good thing.

Most of my friends, however, are like me. Staying home by choice. Sure we could all work if we wanted to, but we don’t want to (most days – let’s face it…we all dream of escaping some days) and we are blessed to not have to. And we are okay for it.

We’re all okay. So let’s quit judging one another and start supporting each other instead.

Working women around the world this morning got up, showered, fed their kids and got everyone out the door on time. My hat is off to all of you.

Stay at home moms around the world got up this morning, some showered (well done!), fed their kids and got them out the door on time this morning. I praise you for it.

Home school moms around the world this morning got up, some showered (seriously…I am amazed by you), fed their children and pulled out the books to begin teaching and training their children this morning. Way to go!

All of us, though, got up this morning and straightened our shoulders, ready to face another day as a Mom. Ready to fight the battle as a Mom. We all accomplished something great this morning – we got up and set forth to conquer another day. We all deserve a trophy.

How could we ever classify one another as lazy? I don’t understand this. This argument is as ancient as is the idea that women sit at home in the afternoons eating Bon Bons and watching soaps. Honestly…I would like to see a show of hands. Have a single one of you ever eaten Bon Bons and watched soaps in the middle of the day? EVER?!

I’ve never even seen a Bon Bon. Seriously. I don’t know what they look like.

We’re not lazy, Moms. And we’re all on the same team. Instead of judging and tearing each other down, let’s help each other out. Do you know a working mom who is frazzled and needs a little extra help with the kids or around the house? Help her! Offer to pick the kids up from day care once a week or pick up her groceries for her every once in awhile.

Do you know a stay at home mom who is fraying, at the end of her rope having not had a chance to get away in awhile. Help her out! Offer to take the kids out for ice cream so she can have thirty minutes alone, or ask her to meet you for coffee one evening for grown up conversation.

What if, instead of calling names and slinging labels – she doesn’t care, she’s lazy, she’s irresponsible, she’s selfish – we filled in the gaps for one another? What if we all stopped every once in awhile and ate Bon Bons together.

That’s assuming we can find them, of course. I’ve a sneaking suspicion that Bon Bons are a mythical food conjured up for the sole purpose of adding to this ridiculous argument.

No more judging, Moms and no more debating. Let’s fight the fight together. Who’s with me?!

To watch more of the ridiculousness, click here.

Filed Under: Domesticity, Family, Motherhood Tagged With: , , ,

Good, Kind, Important

January 10, 2012 by

I read The Help this summer as we made our long and exhausting move from St. Louis to Florida. I was emotionally vulnerable and the book was the perfect escape during that first week we were here. I got lost in the story, the rich development of the characters taking me out of my momentary troubles and giving me someone to root for.

I was most struck by the relationship between Aibileen and Mae Mobly, the little girl she watched and loved. Aibileen took it upon herself to make sure that little girl knew and understood her value and her worth.

“You is good. You is kind. You is important,” Aibileen crooned to Mae Mobley over and over in an attempt to undo the emotional harm and pressure the child received from her young, inexperienced and judgemental mother. This relationship was precious and I bawled, both in the book and in the movie, as Aibileen walked away from Mae Mobly after giving her one last reminder.

“You is good. You is kind. You is important.

I’ve thought about this a lot as I’ve parented my children these last few months – particularly as I have schooled them at home. I will be the first to admit my weaknesses as a mother. While I am constantly challenging my children to be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry I myself am not always following that.

I am slow to listen, quick to speak harshly and even quicker to become angry. And in so doing, I tear my children down. I. Hate. That.

Sloan takes the brunt of my quick to become angryness. Mostly because he is equally quick, and perhaps even quicker, to become angry and I react. It’s not that I don’t try to stay calm and patient. I try and I try and I try. And he pushes and he pushes and he pushes.

Round and round we go until one of us snaps. On the precious few days when I manage to not be the one to snap I collapse into bed exhausted and depleted of all sense of myself. Most days, however, I crawl into bed heavy hearted at once again losing control of my own emotions. And I wonder…

Does he know that he is good and kind and important? If I think back on the days events have I given him any reason to believe that I see him as good…and kind…and important?

The thought that perhaps my child is going to sleep unsure of these things can be paralyzing. He knows I love him. He knows this because I tell him all the time. A hundred times a day he hears me say I love him and I sincerely mean it when I say it. I love that child fiercely.

But does he know how good I think he is? Does he know that I think him to be one of the kindest young boys I’ve ever known? Does he know how important he is not only to me, but to so many others? Does he know?

Today found Sloan and me locked in yet another battle of the wills. Each day is new and yet each day is the same. It’s a battle and a war and some days I feel like I am losing. I’m at battle with all three children, of course. You’re at battle with your kids, too, if you think about it. We’re all fighting the war against their sinful natures and desires. We all wake up each morning and walk into the battle zone and it’s a war we must win when they are young and their hearts are pliable and easily molded.

As I felt the frustration bubble up inside of me, I looked into his challenging eyes and saw so much anger. So much confusion. You see, Sloan isn’t the only child needing correction in our home, but he receives it more than the others. This is partly his fault and partly mine. He tries to parent the other two kids and gets in my way and so I have to deal with him before I can deal with them. But many times I deal only with him and forget to correct the other two for pestering and nagging him in the first place. And Sloan feels worn down – I can see it.

So after a particularly grueling hour of back and forth, I stopped and grabbed his hand. I was angry and he could tell, but I was fighting against the anger with every fiber. Looking deep into his baby blues, I spoke softly.

“Do you know that you’re good?” I asked. He blinked, surprised by my reaction.

“Do you know that I think you’re amazing? I think you are kind and gentle and humble. Do you know how good you are?”

Slowly, he nodded his head yes.

“Do you know that I think you’re important? You’re important to me and you’re important to God. Do you know that?”

Again he nodded, his eyes welling up with tears.

“Good,” I said, the anger melting away. “I want you to know that.”

I’d like to say his behavior changed and that he was immediately kinder and gentler with me and his brother and sister. It didn’t exactly work that way, but as the day went on, when he lost control I would look him in the eye and raise my eyebrows and he would stop and nod.

He knows.

He does know. And my prayer tonight is that he would embrace those things and bury them deep. Tomorrow is another day of battle and I feel more prepared now that I’ve added another weapon to my arsenal. We’re going to win this war, he and I. He’s too good and too kind and too important for me to give up on.

Losing is not an option.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Kids, Motherhood, Sloan Tagged With: , , , , ,

I could have danced all night

January 4, 2012 by

As the smells of dinner waft through the house and the sounds of love eminate from my iPad, I have to smile. Because Michael Buble singing “Fever” makes me smile. And melt a little. And sigh a lot.

And day dream.

Seriously sexy voice…

…

I’m sorry – where were we?

I walk to the sink with the intention of cleaning the dishes when he grabs me and spins me around into his arms. “Dance with me,” he whispers and so I do. You don’t say no to six foot two of pure brawn. Am I right?

Sorry.  I just had to take a moment to stop laughing at the pure brawn remark. Sometimes I really crack myself up. It’s terrible…

Seriously, though. I love it when he dances with me after dinner. And secretly, I think the three pairs of little eyes that watch us glide across the tile floor love it, too. I mean, I know they gag and roll their eyes and giggle uncontrollably, but mostly I know that they love to see him sweep me off my feet.

(I am refering to my husband when I say ‘he.’ You know that right? That was clear? Just wanted to make sure.)

“Dip her and kiss her,” the oldest and wisest usually yells and we are always willing to comply as they clap their hands over their eyes and squeal in mock horror.

“Dat’s soooooo gwoss!” the four year likes to yell just before he leaps off his chair and tries to steal me away from the man of my dreams by latching himself to my leg and grovelling for a dance. And what can I say…I agree. I’m a sucker for his freckles.

So I dance with Landon, and he gives me a twirl, then a dip and, if I’m lucky, a kiss.  I catch the eye of my first partner and an unspoken message crosses between us. This is kind of awesome.

Lee then grabs his one and only daughter and sets her on his toes and together they twirl – Cinderella and her Prince. I, being always in high demand (ahem), have a dance request from yet another partner, the dashing eight year old with eyes as blue as the ocean. We spin and dance to the soft music of Harry Connick Jr. crooning through the media, dinner cooling on the plates but joy warming our hearts.

And in a flash, Sloan spins me back in his arms. The arms of the one who swept me off my feet twelve years ago. The one I’ve been dancing with for more than a decade. The one who shares these small people with me. Together we dance as they watch.

They who are our love song.

And I look in his eyes and know that we have a lot of dancing left to do. May it be that we are still dancing fifty years from now, together and with them. And maybe there will be more young eyes watching?

I can’t think of anyone else with whom I’d rather dance through life.

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Lee, Life, Marriage Tagged With: , , ,

Homeschool 101: The Update

January 4, 2012 by

As we head into our second semester of homeschooling, I thought it might be fun to give a little update on how things are going so far. Fun for me, anyway. This has the potential to be wildly boring for you.

I’m kidding!

Please keep reading…

So after four months of homeschooling, we’ve got a few things solidly under our belts. Those things are, in no particular order:

– The kids can all read Latin fluently.

– I churn butter every night before bed.

– Tia knits daily. Yesterday she made me a sweater.

– Landon is reading Socrates.

– Sloan split an atom just before Christmas.

– We survived.

…….

Okay, so maybe only one of the above statements is true. Although Sloan did receive a microscope for Christmas and I’m quite certain he’s on the path to atom splitting. Or, you know, he may just continue to look at boogers under the contraption. Hard to say at this point.

There are many, many aspects of the homeschooling journey that I have really loved, the largest one being freedom. I really, really love the freedom we have to follow our own schedule. I love that we are still on break this week simply because we can be. I love that I can stop lessons for the day at 1:00 in the afternoon and we can just read books the rest of the day. I love that I don’t have to have them all up, dressed and ready to go for the school bus that comes rolling through here at 7:15.

Lawdy that’s early…

On the other side of that coin, the freedom sometimes freaks me out. For example, many times we are through with all our lessons by 1:00-1:30 and I find myself twiddling my thumbs and worrying that maybe I missed something. That leads to a whole train of thought that eventually has me picturing Sloan sorting trash at a local dump someday because he couldn’t get into college because I failed him in the second grade.

It’s a vicious train of thought.

I have to constantly remind myself that I’m not likely going to destroy their education. We are learning every day and we’re doing it at a pace that works for them, so that has to be a good thing, right? Not knowing the standards for what they should be learning is what has given me greatest cause for stress, though. Am I doing too much? Am I doing too little? Sometimes it overwhelms me.

Then my four year old labels all fifty States on a map and names more than half of their capitals and I think, We’re doing just fine.

Or Sloan walks by and, just for fun, speaks to me in alliteration. Then there was the time he reenacted the entire sinking of the Titanic at the lunch table with two apple slices and a piece of bread. He is such a kid after my own heart.

Tia is still not reading fluently, but she gets a little better every day. As I mentioned earlier, though, she’s a bit of a whiz with the evil numbers and is well on her way to needing first grade math curriculum.

The hardest part of homeschooling, for me, has been the lack of alone time. There are so many things that I want to do and not having the children home all day would make accomplishing those things a frillion times easier. There are some days when I daydream about packing it all in and marching them to the local school so I can have two minutes of peace and quiet to think.

But in the end, I still know this is right for us and that it will be worth it. I will not regret this time I have them home. The kids may regret it but I will not.

The jury’s out on whether or not we continue homeschooling. At this point I would like to do it for a couple more years, maybe, but I don’t see this as a long term thing. I don’t know why that is, it’s just a feeling I get. We have joined a homeschool co-op for this semester, which I am excited about so I won’t be going it alone anymore.

I’ve felt like Ma Ingalls quarantined on the prairie these last few months as I’ve journeyed down this path all by myself. And yes, Little House on the Prairie analogies are totally apropos if you’re a homeschooler.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I hear my little budding scientist in the kitchen now turning on the stove and cracking eggs. Um…yikes.

Filed Under: Family, Homeschool, Kids, Motherhood Tagged With: , ,

A Year in Review

December 29, 2011 by

This was a year of change for us. Hard, painful, exciting, beautiful growth. Four seasons have passed, three children have grown and a year’s worth of life was lived. This little corner of the web has been a bit of a refuge for me. Scrolling through old posts last night I realized it got a little depressing around here for a time. As we processed the move, I found myself stuck in the contemplative ponderings of change. And so many of you stuck it out as I processed.

Thank you.

I know I’ve already said that, but I need to say it again. I don’t like to get too serious around here. I don’t know why – I guess my ultimate hope is to make you all smile. Life is fun and there is so much joy to be had.

But sometimes life is also hard. Winter settles in and you have to search a bit more for the beauty in the frosty darkness.  A dear friend told me during this more difficult time of transition that she could always tell when things weren’t quite right. “Your writing takes a completely different tone,” said said. “It’s still beautiful, but I just know that your heart is aching a bit more than usual.”

But inevitably winter must thaw and joy breaks through once more. We’re walking toward spring and it’s balmy and sweet. And funny.

So without further ado, I give you 2011 in review:

In January, I laughed until I cried and I beseeched my male readership to please, for the love of all things holy explain to me the obssession with Star Trek. (Best I could tell, Star Trek is to men what Twilight is to women…)

In Feburary, I threw one heck of a pink princess party and lived to tell the tale.

In March I gave you the first sneak peek into my novel (which I will finish in 2012 – hold me to that, internets!).  Oh, and my dorky husband and I made a movie about how hot minivans actually are.

In April my first grader and I debated Creationism and the Big Bang theory. Later Tia and I discussed whether or not she would be able to do handstands in heaven while Landon swore up one side and down the other he saw a kangaroo on the side of the road. My kids are so delightfully weird.

In May I did NOT feel bad about Bin Laden’s death, and I mercilessly mocked my husband’s shoulder shaking dance moves. Oh yeah…and I lost my cool pants. Or maybe I never had them?

In June I gave you all a cavity with the sweetest pictures of childhood ever published.  I also traveled to Montreal and spent the day on a movie set where I interviewed Christine Baransky, died laughing at my husband’s reasoning for why the kids should not touch a bird’s nest and I dug down deep and got more personal than I’ve ever done before.

In July Jennifer Aniston did my hair, we announced our impending move to Florida and my posts got a bit contemplative.

In August people disrespected my smokin’ hot minivan and it was suggested I add ghost flames down the side. I also announced our intention to homeschool and I went to Hollywood and took a million pictures of myself at a movie premiere.

In September I explained why I would not be raising a bimbo of a daughter, then we all rejoiced as she made the most beautiful decision. We also found ourselves finally settling into a home after three months of living like nomads.

In October we worked with our son on toughening up and learning to play with the big boys. Then I humbled myself and admitted to my tendency toward acting like a true blonde.

In November I cried a freakin’ river for a second time, then my daughter and I were scarred for life when we walked in on a man in an airplane bathroom with his pants around his ankles. And I officially coined the phrase “Air Butt.” I also wrote this post, which is another one of my favorites.

Which brings us to December. I found out my eyes have betrayed me this month, I contemplated the value of a man when Albert Pujols left the Cardinals for the Angels, I admitted my aversion to Math (maybe I’m allergic to numbers…) and I died my hair pink.

It’s been quite a year and I couldn’t be more excited to head into 2012. I have big dreams, several goals and a lot of confidence. I think it’s the hair that’s given me a little boost. I hope you’ll join me as we jump into the new year. Perhaps we could all take a lesson from my youngest and leap with reckless abandon and unabashed joy.

Who’s with me? What are you looking forward to and hoping to accomplish this year?

Filed Under: blast from the past, Blogging, faith, Family, Florida, Holidays, Life, New Years Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Dreams of revenge are just as sweet

December 19, 2011 by

Alternately titled: Payback is a Beast

Imagine this scene: You’re lying on a cloud buried beneathe warm, fluffy blankets made of the finest wool. The dark air around you is cool as the nighttime air slow begins to burn off. The sun hasn’t graced the sky with her rays  just yet and you relish that dreamy moment between sleep and consciousness. It is peaceful. It is comfortable. It is blissful.

Now imagine that a spindly, gangly child jumps on the cloud with you. He burrows beneathe your blankets, bursting through your warm cocoon with his icy feet and shivering body. He tucks his toes underneath your legs causing you to yelp in surprise and yanking you, rather rudely, out of dreamland in one fell swoop.

Then he turns on the lamp and your eyes, still not fully prepared for wakefulness and accustomed only to the serenity of the dark, go blind. The light pierces through the room with such forcefulness that you wonder if perhaps you will ever be able to see again.

After this he turns to you with his eight year old morning breath and begins talking. Not whispering, mind you, but full out gabbing as if he’s in Grand Central Station during rush hour. Your senses are overwhelmed what with the light and the noise and the icy feet underneath.

Imagine he pulls out a photo album that he wants to look at with you and he wants to discuss every photo from seven years ago down to the very detail.

“I was cute wasn’t I?”

“Oh look how small I was!”

“What were we doing here?”

“How much did you love me then?”

And you want to engage, you really do.  But you’re blind…and deaf…and paralyzed.

“Mom, open your eyes and look at this one! Wasn’t that fun? Tell me about it?”

You hear him but you don’t compute. Partly because you’re wondering how on Earth it happened that minutes ago you were sleeping on a cloud and now you’re being attacked before the sun is even lighting the sky an early morning grey. Plus, you’re too busy thinking about other things.

You’re dreaming about the coming day when he’s a teenager and rising before the crack of dawn is no longer exciting. He will long to spend a few extra hours in bed, wrapped in his own cocoon of warmth and then?

Then it’s going to be your turn.

*insert manaical laugh here*

You think of that moment when you can flip on his light and start chattering incessantly about how much you miss him being little and what a sweet baby he was and look at these old pictures, honey!

Maybe you’ll want to stick your icy feet under his covers and watch him gasp and try and get away. Although he’ll probably be bigger than you so that may not be wise, but you could at least yank off the covers and flip on the lamp sitting beside his bed causing light to pierce his eyeballs like hot daggars. You know…just for kicks.

This is all hypothetical, of course.

Or maybe it’s not.

Truthfully, as you envision this blessed payback you know that in reality you will likely never have the opportunity, or the guts, to be so cruel to your child. As the fog of sleep slowly lifts, you change your tactic and instead of dreaming of the day when you can exact sweet revenge, you instead begin praying with an urgency that you haven’t felt or experienced in a long, long time.

Lord, give this boy a child just like him some day.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go have another cup of coffee. After all, I was up before the sun this morning…

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids do the darndest things, Motherhood, Sloan Tagged With: , , ,

Four is More

December 15, 2011 by

Four.

It all just happened really…

Really…

Really…

Reeeeaaallllyyy…

Fast.

No longer a baby.

Loaded with personality.

“Wiggle your nipples, Dad!” he begged last night.

Different day. Different blog. Definately a story that needs to be told.

Part of me longs for one more day with this baby.

Probably the same part of me that wishes I was still in my twenties…

But mostly, I just really adore this amazing little boy.

This boy who turns FOUR today.

Happy Birthday, Landon.

Visual proof of the personality that keeps us in stiches. Man, I love this kid…

 

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Landon Tagged With: , , , ,

What if we all slowed down?

December 7, 2011 by

We wandered through the brush, the bristled fronds scraping against our bare arms.  December 7 and in shorts.  This is the things dreams are made of.

We stopped and peered inside the little windows and I let my mind wander.  Who were they that lived there then?  What sounds filled their homes in a time when the whirring of electronics was not yet realized?  When televisions didn’t dictate every thought and movement?  Did they, too, feel the rushing passage of time – they who had no option of jumping in the car and buzzing to this meeting or that event?

As the quiet moments ticked away the evening hours and their hands, weary from a long day’s labor, sat still in their laps, were they able to drink the moments in?  Or did those mothers, like me, find themselves each night wondering what happened and how did the day blur by in a blink?

One day older.

Did those mothers nestle their babes each night and wish they could freeze time for a brief moment just so they had the opportunity to drink it all in?  Did those same mothers also have some nights when the darkness brought a sense of sweet relief as the bustle and the energy finally stopped and they had a few brief moments of peace before it all started up again?

I imagine the mothers were very much like me in this regard.  Equal parts sad to see the days fly by and anxious for the peace the nighttime brings.  Perhaps even more so as the burden they shouldered was far greater than mine.  Their days were filled with much more labor and with far fewer luxeries.

As we walked into the tiny house, the tour guide met us with twinkling eyes, the lines in his face evidence of a life well lived.  With a gentle smile, he guided us through each room, his aging voice filled with awe, wonder and appreciation.  He understood simpler times and I heard the longing in his words as he pointed out the small tools and toys.  The days of quiet are not far removed from his mind.

I love the quiet, too.  Not setting up cable has been one of the best decisions we’ve ever made.  Evenings are filled with quiet togetherness.  Sitting on the floor, rolling the ball to one another.  Walks around the block.  Ice cream on the lanai.  Together without the noise.  It’s a step toward the simpler times.

What if we all slowed down just a little bit?  What if we all spent a little less time watching the lives of others and living our own? What if we all cut out just a few things so that the precious moments could at least be soaked in a bit before zipping past?  What if we just stopped for awhile?

I confess, the stopping and soaking in is hard for me.  It’s really, really hard.  There is so much to be done and the stopping feels like a halt in progress.  But is it?  When we stop, sit, listen and wait – does this stagnate us or, perhaps, move us forward still but in a deeper and more fulfilled manner?

As we pulled out of the gravel driveway, I turned off the radio and rolled down the windows.  This is a big deal for me.  I’m not a “wind in her hair” kind of gal.  I find it annoying and loud.  But today, instead, I listened to the wind whipping through the car, the echoes of movement passing through.  I breathed deep the salty air and glanced at the ocean just across the street.  I drove the speed limit, not pushing my speed but instead taking the time to enjoy the journey.

And they enjoyed, too.  We talked about the seagulls and the graceful way they danced on the wind.  The discussed what we would do if each of us were a bird.  How would the world look from the sky?

Even the (smokin’ hot) minivan has the potential to slow down.

What if we all just took the time?

What would life look like and how would it be different?

All photos taken during today’s field trip to Heritage Village in Largo, Florida.

Filed Under: Family, Heritage, Homeschool, Kids, Motherhood Tagged With: , , ,

Just me and my thoughts

December 5, 2011 by

The title of this post alone should scare you all.  I am welcoming you into my thoughts?

Frightening.

Because the truth is, I can go from thinking of something super brilliant and kinda deep to thinking up alternate lyrics to popular songs in the same breath.  “So, Kelli.  What ARE your favorite made up alternate lyrics?” I’m so glad you asked!

Sung to the tune of Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson’s “Rock Your Body”

I’m gonna wash your body

Make it clean

Scrub with me

No lie, I sang this to the kids every time I bathed them and they ALL sing it now when they pick up a bar of soap.  It. is. awesome.

So yeah…that’s the kind of stuff that floats through my head.

Okaaaaay, then.  Let’s bring this crazy train on in to the station, shall we?

I’ve been thinking a lot about Christmas these last few weeks.  I’m wrestling through my desire to teach my kids to really, truly embrace the power of this Christmas season without completely turning away from the magic of gift giving and receiving.  There have been a lot of really wonderful blog posts written lately on the topic and I’m awed at how many people have given up gifts altogether on Christmas, choosing instead to focus on the true meaning behind why we celebrate this holiday.

I’ll be honest.  I’m not there and I’m okay with that.

Because I really love the moment my children walk around the corner and see the twinkling lights and the gifts and the excitement leading up to that magical moment.  And I think we can still enjoy that tradition without losing ourselves to the marketing mayhem that Christmas has become.

Truthfully, the last few years we have pulled back significantly on how much “stuff” we give our kids.  Because they don’t need all the stuff.  Last year we gave fewer gifts and tried to make them more meaningful and useful.  And we are pulling back even more drastically this year.

There are other things we plan to do with the kids this year to keep the focus of Christmas outward and not inward.  And I may or may not share what those things are.  I am trying to keep some things private as a way to preserve the traditions, memories and even acts themselves as sacred between us, our children and the God we serve.  It’s a balance.

I can tell you this, though.  As the kids and I discussed the way that Christmas would change a bit this year, I mentioned today that we would be spending less on one another and more on others.  I was immediately met with disappointed stares and protests and for a brief second, my heart sank.  Perhaps we had gone wrong all these years if my children were going to pitch a small fit over receiving fewer toys.  Then Tia spoke.

“But Mom,” she said, her eyes big and round.  “I really, really wanted to get you a special present this year!”

“Yeah, me too,” Sloan said.  “I had a plan for exactly what I wanted to get you.”

*tears*  *hugs*

Then I promised them a pony.

I thanked them for thinking of me and not themselves and told them I would be honored to receive gifts from them, but that I wanted them to spend more time, energy and money on gifts for people who are in need than on me.

IMG_0084

Our nativity scene usually includes Santa, Luke Skywalker, Moses, a Construction Worker and on occasion C-3PO likes to make an appearance.

I won’t tell my children they can’t buy me a gift.  (I think they’re going to buy me Peppermint Mocha Coffee Creamer – Mercy, I am loved).  I will, however, encourage them to think outside the box on how we can give to others.  I loved some of the ideas in this post – particularly the suggestion of giving children a sum of money and allowing them to use it however they want, as long as it’s for someone in need.

I am not opposed to giving gifts at Christmas, personally.  It’s not something that I feel we need to cut out entirely.  I am, however, finding myself more and more drawn to celebrating more simply, with the traditions surrounding the gifts and not the other way around.  I don’t have a problem with my kids believing in Santa because we don’t make him the reason for the season.  I don’t play the Santa card to encite good behavior (mortifying) and I read the story of the real Saint Nicholas every single year so that they know and understand the historical significance of who he was.  Santa gets a bit part in our the Christmas celebrations in our home.  And I don’t mind that.

These are things that I, personally, don’t sweat.  Because I don’t let them get out of hand. I am, however, pondering and thinking and praying over exactly how Christmas will look for us this year – how we will incorporate gift giving and receiving into our holiday in a way that is meaningful and precious.  Rest assured, though, that no matter what, Christmas will still be magical and filled with wonder.  How could it not be so?

The Lord is Come.

Magical, indeed.

How do you keep your focus during the holidays? Any plans to help your kids think outside the box this year? I’d love to hear what others are doing!

Filed Under: Christmas, faith, Family, Holidays, Random Tagged With: , , , ,
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