Family | Page 27 | Minivans Are Hot

Drowning

November 3, 2010 by Kelli

First of all, I am very pleased with the way that elections turned out last night. There were a couple of issues that disappointed me and the fact that Harry Reid is still in office annoys me to no end, but more than anything I’m glad that there is a better balance of power in Washington now. Perhaps we can finally have reasonable discourse and work toward the good of the people. For a great analysis of how I feel about all this, visit Nicole’s blog. She essentially said everything I want to say and said it better than I could have.

I’m going to have to bail on a post today. I’m trying to do a better job of not posting bad, rambling posts on the days when I don’t really have anything good to say. Actually, I’ve got a couple of posts rolling around in my head but I just don’t have the time to write them well right now. You see, I’m smack in the middle of a little editing project. My deadline is 13 days away so I need to hunker down and dig in my heels. Let me just tell you – trying to work from home when you have small kids is hard. I have a newfound respect for working moms. And I have a newfound respect for the 5:00am hour. Me and 5:00 are becoming well acquainted.

I don’t like 5:00. AM or PM, come to think of it.

On top of that it’s Holiday season which means there are class parties, birthday parties, Christmas parties and every other kind of party you can imagine to plan and prepare for. And rehearsals for our church’s Christmas Musical (which is going to be amazing – tickets go on sale this Sunday!) And field trips. And big, fat giveaways on 5 Minutes for Mom coming your way – be on the lookout!

There’s also election night coverage to watch, which I know I don’t have to do but it’s so entertaining to listen to husband pants yell at the TV that I can’t pull myself away. There is food to be cooked, lunches to be made and boo boo’s to be kissed. I am speaking on a panel in a couple of weeks at the St. Louis Women in Media’s Fall Networking Event alongside several other amazing women so I need to prepare myself for that, and I need to find a baby sitter and I need to find a babysitter for a date night next week.

Date night! I love date night.

I’m not complaining. Life is full right now. I love it. I go to bed knowing that my day was packed and productive. But life is also tiring right now and I’m learning to say no. It’s hard to say no. But I am doing it. I said no twice today. It hurt because they were big no’s. But for now, no will do.

Oh, I forgot to add that I need to do laundry. I feel like I mention my laundry woes here quite a bit. It’s probably because I’m always waist deep in laundry. How does that happen?

Speaking of laundry – for those of you who are the mother’s of little girls, you must invest in several pairs of socks from Little Miss Matched. It’s the most brilliant idea ever conceived. Sell socks in packs of three, all of which coordinate but don’t match. This way you never have to worry about trying to match socks. There are leg warmers and underwear and shirts and tights and even dresses like this one:

I am going to sign off now because the whole point of this post was to tell you that I’m not going to post today. See? This is exactly the type of rambling, boring post I’m trying to avoid.

Clearly I need to work a little harder on that goal of mine.

Filed Under: Christmas, Family, Holidays, Kids, Life, Motherhood, Random, Thanksgiving Tagged With: Little Miss Matched, Random blog posts, WAHM, Working Mom

The Cutest Little Four Eyes You’ll Ever Meet

November 1, 2010 by Kelli

Neither Lee nor I have ever had problems with our eyes. I wore glasses for about ten minutes in high school. They were supposed to be for reading. I think I wore them as an accessory until I got bored with them and I never saw them again. Other than that, I’ve never even been to an eye doctor and Lee’s only been once.

So imagine my surprise two weeks ago when a letter came in the mail telling us Tia failed her vision screening at preschool. Poor kid. Genetics are definately not on her side. She’s got the wonky ear issues from her father and now she has vision issues that were apparently passed down from a grandparent (ahem…thanks mom).

At first I assumed that perhaps she was just having an off day. For those who know my gregarious daughter, you know that when she wants to do something she usually excels. *When she doesn’t want to do something, however…ahem.*

So out of parental duty I made her an eye exam. They plopped her up in the chair and I learned two very important things:

1.) My child is not seeing well out of her right eye. She has an astigmatism and couldn’t distiguish the pictures one from another. Her left eye is fine and is overcompensating a bit, which puts her at risk for lazy eye. Who knew?!

2.) My child does not know her ABC’s. They originally tried to have her read letters, but it quickly became apparent that that wouldn’t be effective when she simply said the russian sounds of the letters that were familiar and she had no idea what G, V, Q and U were. She did know A, B, C and H, though…except she called them Ah, Veh, Seh and Nuh because those are russian letters.

I hang my head in shame.

She knows her russian alphabet forwards and backwards so, you know, kudos to me for that one. I’m going to get right on familiarizing her with her own alphabet, though.

So out we walked with a glasses order form in hand and the promise that in a few short days she would be seeing much more clearly.

A little frame disclaimer. When we were picking out her glasses, I tried several really trendy, square shaped frames on her. She was like a little Sarah Palin, all sassy and au courant. But she would have nothing to do with the hip styles I picked out. (*see above note). She has definate sensory sensitivities in that if something doesn’t feel exactly right the first time she puts it on, she wants nothing to do with it.

Do you know how complicated that can make life sometimes?

Instead she picked out these purple and green frames. But wait…there’s more! On one side is a purple and green flowered pattern, but you can actually flip that bad boy around to reveal:

Solid green! Yes, the bands on the side are reversible, a feature that she thought was the coolest. thing. ever! She’s decided to wear one side patterend and the other side solid. And I love her for it. 🙂

So I swallowed my mom pride and placed the trendy glasses back in the case. I did manage to talk her out of the first pair she picked out which were a metallic purple and were hideous. They also looked like they would break the first time she came tearing through the house.

But the glasses ladies (what do you call them…technicians?) encouraged me to let her pick out what she liked so that she would be more prone to keeping them on at all times.

And so I did.

When the glasses lady technician fitted them to her face today she told Tia to “make sure and let mommy tell you all about how to take care of glasses.” To which I replied, “Absolutely. And listen right now as Miss Bridgette tells mommy how to take care of glasses.”

Truth be told, it wouldn’t matter what we put on her tiny little face, she’s so dang cute. And the glasses make her look a little bit older, which I’m not sure I like. But most of all she’s proud of them and she’s excited that she has them.

We’ll see how excited she is tomorrow when she realizes that “Wear them all the time,” actually means Wear them all the time!

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Tia Tagged With: Kids and glasses, vision screening in young children

Dear Halloween Fairy

November 1, 2010 by Kelli

*a disclaimer: My husband rightly pointed out in the comments that the Halloween Fairy idea was not ours. We heard it from a friend at church and loved it. Thanks Paul! 🙂 And now…read on.

Dear Halloween Fairy,

It was a beautiful Halloween night. Seriously. As lovely as Halloween nights come ’round these parts.

Some of us even played a little football in our underwear before the festivities began. Naturally.

Of course once dinner was over, we made sure each costume was put on lovingly, with great care and precision.

Anakin, Cheerleader Tia and Woody were all ready to go. See the attention to detail in the costumes?

With great impatience they endured picture time as we waited for the sun to go down so we could stroll the neighborhood demanding candy from all of our neighbors.

We were all thankful to have Boss and Byshka in town for a few days.

But then someone else showed up and nobody knew what to think of him.

Landon in particular was a little leary of the man in the mask. Once we figured out that it was only Boss, though, we all enjoyed trying it on.

Even Monkey got in on the action.

We got a decent family picture for once. It was like a Halloween Miracle!

And we lit our pumpkins, which mommy lovingly carved (read: she mumbled and groaned the entire two hours) and we decorated with a Sharpie when she wasn’t looking.

After meeting up with neighbors and friends, we hit the pavement. It was exciting and fun and filled with laughter. Of course, Landon only made it a quarter of the way before getting tired and needing a ride in his cadillac.

Here’s the thing, though, Halloween Fairy. We ended up with just a little bit more candy than we could ever possibly know what to do with. It’s enough to make sure all three kids need massive dental work for the next eighteen years. Here is an example. This is just one kid’s bag.

So here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to take a little bit of this candy out, and lay the rest on the front porch tonight. We would like you, Halloween Fairy, to come pick up the candy and do with it what you wish. You can dispose of it, you can donate it…just don’t eat it. You don’t need to do that to yourself. And in it’s place would you please leave a special toy for each child?

That would be great. Thanksomuch.

Filed Under: Family, Halloween, Holidays, Kids Tagged With: halloween 2010, Halloween pictures, kids in costume

The day I questioned everything I knew to be true

October 25, 2010 by Kelli

Saturday night found Lee and I in the minivan, kids in tow, heading out to the mattress store to purchase two new mattresses. Never mind that the kids desperately needed them. Never mind that Tia’s mattress was so cheap that is was literally falling apart and becoming a potential hazard. Never mind that both mattresses had been peed on so many times they could be deemed a health code violation. Never mind any of those things. The fact is simply this:

I went out on Saturday evening to buy mattresses and thought it was fun.

Hi, my name is Kelli and I am a bona fide minivan mom.

Ah, but we haven’t even got to the best part of the story. What? Surely you know there would be more to this story than the fact that I had a hoot buying twin mattresses on a Saturday night, right? A hoot!

It was the incident that occurred when we returned home that sent my world aspinnin’. It started simple. We came home so Lee could drop the kids and I off and return to the mattress store to pick up our most exciting purchases. We had to remove the car seats and fold down the back seats and clean up a bit. And it was during this event that I began to question my entire identity.

The title of my blog is Minivans Are Hot. With the operative word being Hot. I know, I know…Minivan and Hot together in a sentence is an oxymoron. And most days I would beg to differ and would launch into a diatribe about how it’s sexy to be a mom and how minivan moms have it goin’ on and I would work my hardest to convince you that I was right. Until Saturday night…

What I found in the back seat of my minivan was anything but Hot. Let’s start with what I found under the seat, shall we? It was sticky…it was brown…it had flecks of leaves and dirt stuck to it. What was that?!

From there I removed the kids car seats to find enough dried, crumbled food to feed a small pack of wild baboons. It was sealed into the lining of the seat fabric and had to be scraped out with my fingernail. *heave* Don’t even get me started on what I found in their seats.

But the piece de resitance came when I crawled into the way back and looked inside the cup holder. It is here that I gasped, looked at my husband and exclaimed, “Gross! This is why minivans are NOT. HOT.” Then I clutched my chest with the gravity of my statement and fell in dramatic Disney Princess fashion onto the seat, the back of my hand against my forehead…

No I didn’t. That last part didn’t happen – mostly because I wouldn’t want to lay on those seats for $100. Maybe for $1000, though.

In the cup holder sat dried, crusted, molded bread. It appears my children are stock piling food in the back seat of our minivan in the event that a giant meteor should come crashing down to earth and we need to seek shelter inside the car for a significant amount of time. It also appears that they have eaten portions of a sandwich and then shoved the remaining portion in the cup holder and have, every day for who knows how long, been looking at this rotting sandwich and ignoring it.

It’s like I’m raising little cave people!

I promptly dug out the rot and marched to the trash can. My husband, sensing my impending melt down went dashing for the Shop Vac in the basement. Being the super hero that he is, he spent the next half hour sucking the muck out of our minivan while I went inside and lectured my children on the importance of throwing away rotten food. I also tried to talk myself out of changing my blog title from Minivans Are Hot to Minivans Are A Place Where Horrors grow Beneathe the Seats and in the Cupholders While You Yourself Obliviously Drive From Here to There Thinking You Are Looking Fine When Really You Are Controlling a Moving Science Experiment.

But in typical Hero fashion, my man came inside just as I was certain that my entire online identity was going to have to be realtered and yelled “Ta-Da!” I walked outside to see the seats clean (hey look! The fabric’s grey…) The cup holders clean…er. They still have a sticky substance that I can only assume will need to be chisled out at some point (probably just before we decide to sell the car). And it smelled much more pleasant too. It was actually quite nice in there.

I smiled at him and jumped into his arms. Small birds flitted about our heads as he spun me around and when we kissed little animated hearts floated up into the dusky sky.

Alright…that last part didn’t happen either. Sometimes I wish I lived in a cartoon.

Despite the cleanliness of my car, however, I couldn’t shake the fact that I had outwardly acknowledged the un-hotness of my minivan. And so I’m here to retrain my mind. And if any of you are having a hard time believeing that Minivans Are Hot like I am, then why don’t you join in with me as we repeat the mantra over and over.

Minivans are hot, minivans are hot, minivans are hot, minivans are not, minivans are not…

NONONONONO!!!!

Let’s try again.

Minivans are hot, minivans are hot, minivans are hot…

Do you believe it?

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Lee, Minivans, Motherhood, Random Tagged With: Cleaning out the minivan, identity crisis, Minivans, Minivans Are Hot

Remember When?

October 19, 2010 by Kelli

Remember when you could wake up slowly and relish the morning?

Yeah…me neither.

Remember when you could look at the clock and smile, then roll over and sleep another half an hour.

Nope. No recollection.

Remember when you were first married (if you are married, of course) and you would look lazily over at your spouse then burrow deeper beneath the covers just because you could?

It’s vague.

Remember when you could slowly eat breakfast and maybe even read a little or watch TV in the morning?

Not so much.

Remember when mornings were relaxing?

Kind of.

Remember when you didn’t have to hit the ground running, making sandwiches, gulping down the breakfast off of the plate of the kid who refused to eat, making beds, brushing teeth, breaking up fights, keeping potty training little ones from peeing on the couch, waiting-for-the-bus-in-the-freezing-cold-without-shoes-or-undergarments-on-and-hoping-the-neighbors-don’t-drive-by?

Remember those days?

They’re long gone now.

It dawned on me this morning that it will probably be 25 years before I have a leaisurely morning again. That’s a little depressing. Not that mornings are horrible. They’re just hectic. I look at the clock each morning and give myself a pep talk:

You can do this. You are in control. You are strong and confident. You will survive. Today’s gonna be a great hair day. You’re good enough, you’re smart enough and doggonit – People like you.

Some mornings it really works. I hop out of bed and I am on.my.game. Like a ballerina I float through the house leaving peace and cleanliness in my wake. (And my hair looks fabulous!) Most mornings, however, I’m more like the proverbial bull in a china shop. I’m stumbling from here to there and by 8:00 it appears that a natural disaster has swept through our walls. I’ll give you one guess as to how this morning has been.

Thank God for caffinated tea (and sometimes coffee)! I couldn’t move without a cup of hot, legalized uppers to get me through the mornings. Can I get an amen?

Top of the mornin’ to you all!

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Life, Motherhood, Random

It’s a Mash Up – Boogie Woogie Woogie

October 17, 2010 by Kelli

*You should be forewarned…this post is as random as they get. It couldn’t be MORE random. I’d like to think of it as a mash up post. You can mash up songs so why can’t you mash up a post. Let’s see how it goes…

This first section will find me fulfilling my mom blogger duty in which I talk about my hair. Every mom blogger is required to talk about her hair in at least two posts every year. It’s in the contract…

Shortly after we got married, I returned home from work one evening to find Lee sitting on the floor in our tiny apartment bedroom. He had our hair dryer in his hands, pieces of it scattered about the floor around him. He had a Q-Tip and was gently swabbing the inside of the hair dryer, his tonge sticking out of his mouth just slightly.

“Um…what are you doing?” I asked.

“This hair dryer is a fire hazard! Have you seen all the crap inside here?” And back he went to picking the dust out of the disassembled hair dryer. It was then that I knew I had married someone slightly OCD. And if you think I’m kidding, you should see the way he tackles projects. I’ve come home to see him in a suit and tie painting a wall because it just needed to be done.

After he finished his hair dryer deep cleanse, he put it back together…and it never really worked properly again. So a few days later I headed out and bought a new and improved (and clean!) hair dryer. And she’s been with us ever since. She’s seen me through a lot of hair tragedies over the past decade, with the worst being this one. And she stood by me, never failing.

Fast forward ten years and you’ll see us in present day still using our trusty old hair dryer. She’s like 842 in hair dryer years now, but she’s still kicking. Of course, she doesn’t have as much punch as she once upon a time did. And she makes a weird clickety click sound when you use her. And it takes roughly 23.7 minutes to dry my hair. But she’s so comfortable. Still…it was time.

I bought a new hair dryer this weekend. I felt like a traitor. But this one has a turbo button. I push it and BAM! My hair’s dry. It’s dry and actually looks good. And when I flip my head, my hair swings to the side in slow motion…

I gingerly laid old faithful in the trash can yesterday. And when I flipped my hair over to dry it with the turbo charged new girl I could swear I saw a tear of resentment trickle down the side of her scratched and beaten nozzle. I tried to tell her it was me and not her…

I don’t think she believed me.

Switching gears. Now I will transition into another mom blogger must – talking about my child’s weird and random rash. Mash up, folks…it’s a mash up.

Last weekend I posted this photo of Landon’s leg on Facebook with the caption: Landon’s had this random rash for a couple of weeks now. Should I be worried?”

Across the board the concensus was that this looked like ringworm, which was what I was already concerned about but I’ve never seen ringworm so I wasn’t sure. So thanks Facebook. Once again you have confirmed that the world needs you to keep on spinnin’.

I went to the doc the day after I posted the picture and he was completely baffled by this bizarre rash. So he brought in another physician who was also baffled. This was a Saturday so it wasn’t our own pediatrician we were seeing. Because the circles resembled ringworm he decided to treat it as such with instructions to call if it didn’t change in a week. I walked unsure for a few reasons.

A.) The doctor couldn’t tell if it was ringworm. This isn’t how ringworm presents itself. Ringworm is usually one circle that spreads larger and larger. All four of these circles appeard over night and none of them got bigger.

And,

B.) Ringworm is apparently contagious but Landon sported these lovely marks for a solid two weeks and no one else was showing odd crop circles on their limbs so it didn’t appear to be spreading. I’m not sure if ringworm spreads like chicken pox, though, where it takes a couple of weeks to show up.

Speaking of chicken pox, I kind of wish I could get my kids exposed to it so they could build up a natural immunity…

This is the part where I remind myself to stay on topic.

So I called our personal pediatrician back on Thursday and wished I would have just waited to see her in the first place because she pretty much diagnosed him over the phone without the co-pay. And that is why I love her. I’ve been putting Tinactin on his leg for a week. No go. It’s still there. Ah…but that’s because he probably has Nummular Eczema, which can present itself in small circles but is really an irritation of the skin.

Hydrocortisone cream has become our new best friend. And it doesn’t sting when I put it on his skin…poor kid.

Insert pithy transition here.

On any given night you can find our family piled up on the couch listening to this cacophony of…I guess we could call it music. It is a family musical mash up and I think it’s the perfect way to end my mash up post.

Sloan is singing a song he made up. He likes to write music. I find it terribly adorable. Tia was fresh from her bath and not yet dressed so she’s wrapped up in a blanket strumming her guitar. Naturally. And Landon is just so adorable you’ll want to cry. I give you: My children.

Boogie Woogie Woogie!

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Landon, Lee, Life, Random Tagged With: Hair Dryers, Kids, Mash Up, So Random

Dream a Little Dream

October 13, 2010 by Kelli

I am a dreamer. A day dreamer, night dreamer, all the time dreamer. A dreamer with an active imagination. With all this dreaminess there is often quite a bit of disappointment. Because dreams don’t always come true. Of course, the fulfillment of dreams all depends on how you view things.

When I was little I dreamed of being a famous actress. This is a common dream for most young girls, I suppose. At least most young girls who like to be on stage…and I did like to be onstage. I learned at a young age, though, that being famous would mean a lot of elbowing around, jockeying for position in a pool filled with talent. I may be a dreamer, but I’m not a big fighter. It only took a few experiences of rejection to scare me away. Maybe I should have tried harder, but the fact is this dream was just that – a dream. It wasn’t a passion. You have to have dreams combined with passion to power through that type of rejection.

As a young adult, I was made aware of a tiny little gift I had with words. That’s nicer than saying I am long winded and just happen to be able to spin my wordiness in a way that’s comprehesible, right? About this time I did my first Beth Moore Bible Study and I determined that I would one day write Bible studies like Beth Moore. I dreamed of holing myself up for hours at a time with nothing but my Bible and computer.

It didn’t take me long to realize that God created only one Beth Moore. That’s not to say I couldn’t write a Bible study or two someday, but trying to match the spunk and verve with which Beth Moore writes is like saying I’m going to go out and be a 7 time Tour de France winner like Lance Armstrong. Just because I can ride a bike doesn’t mean I can win the race, ya know?

As I’ve gotten more mature (notice I didn’t say older) my dreams have evolved a bit. I dream more realistically. I dream about what my children will think of me when they’re grown. I hope it’s good things as a result of happy memories. I dream of seeing my children grow and mature in wisdom and knowledge. I dream about what they will be like/look like/act like as teenagers and adults. (Sometimes I fear this to!) I dream of where life will lead us as a family. I dream about the experiences I want to give my kids – where I want to take them, what I want to expose them to, who I want them to see and meet.

I dream of living in a mansion and having two maids – one to clean my house and the other to do my laundry. I dream of handing my personal shopper a grocery list and having her return an hour later with bags in tow, then handing them to the cook who prepares all our meals for us. I dream of the private jet that will shuttle us to our private island in the Carribbean…

Um…not all of my grown up dreams are realistic.

I do dream of exposing my kids to a world outside their own. I dream of taking mission trips as a family. I dream about serving our local community together as a family. I dream about introducing my children to the concept of missions in a real and tangible way, passing along the heritage that is so rich in our family’s history.

I dream of sleeping through the night.

I dream of having a greater involvement in the Russian culture with my children beyond simply teaching them the language. I dream of having a greater impact through my writing beyond simply sharing the mundane moments of our days. Even when the mundane moments are pretty funny.

For example as we drove in the car yesterday Sloan asked me when our dog, Sadie, would have puppies. I told him she wouldn’t because she was fixed to not have puppies when she was a baby. “Oh,” he said. “Did you fix her because it’s so messy and gross for dogs to have puppies?” “Um…” I answered. “Yeah,” he continued. “When dogs have puppies they shoot ’em out all goopy and black…like a rocket.”

I dream of better monitoring what my children see on TV.

I dream of touring Europe with my husband…. I can check that one off the list! The only problem is now that I’ve done it once I dream of doing it again and again. Gonna have to reign that one in.

I like dreaming. Sometimes it’s all that gets me through the long days. Other times, however, it breeds discontentment so I have to keep the dreaming in check and be as realistic as I can, while still allowing the occasional hope to peek through (like the private maid and personal chef – I’m not letting go of that one too easily). The thing with dreams is that so often you can look back and see God’s hand in them and see how they came true. Sometimes they are realized in a way that’s a bit different than you imagined, but often they’re even better than what you imagined.

Dreams are good. Dreams are scary. Dreams sometimes require action. And that may be the scariest part of all. I can’t sit back and lay out my dreams before God and then wait for Him to make them happen. Sometimes I might have to chase a dream without knowing if I’m supposed to trusting full well that He will make that clear to me in time. This sometimes requires a rather frightening leap of faith.

The best part about trusting God with your dreams is looking back and realizing He gave you far more than you could have asked or imagined. Even in the heartaches of the past, I see how He carefully wove the fabric of my life to bring about the fruition of dreams I didn’t even dare to dream. Perhaps that’s easy for me to say as my life is abundantly blessed. I would be remiss if I didn’t confess that there are hidden heartaches and unrealized dreams that are hard to let go of. But if I’m willing to look beyond those circumstances and really stare into the face of what’s before me I could say this without a single doubt:

My life is a dream come true. And I never even tried to dream this up.

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Life, Motherhood, Random Tagged With: dreams, faith, God, hopes, trusting God with dreams

Pumpkin Patch 2010

October 12, 2010 by Kelli

I’ve been going to Rambach’s Pumpkin Patch since I was a kid and for nine Halloween’s we haven’t missed visiting this patch with our kids. (The first year I was pregnant with Sloan).

So Sunday when the weather was balmy hot we decided to make the trek out there. It feels a little sacreligious to visit the Pumpkin Patch in shorts and T-shirts, but given the fact that I loathe cold weather I wasn’t overly concerned about. And the best part of this year’s visist was the fact that we got in and out of there without spending a dime.

Because we rock.

The trick is to go without money. And leave your ATM card in the car so you’re not tempted to get cash out while there. Then you can honestly tell the kids you don’t have any money. And you know what? They didn’t really care. They were happy to play on the playground, run through the pumpkins and simply enjoy being outdoors. They didn’t need overpriced pony rides and I had already told them we would buy our Pumpkins at Trader Joes because they’re cheaper.

And so I give you…the Pumpkin Patch of 2010. And a lame blog post. Sorry.

Filed Under: Family, Halloween, Holidays, Kids, Life Tagged With: Family Pictures, Halloween, Rambachs Pumpkin Patch

He is Dad

October 11, 2010 by Kelli

I am two or three years old*. I’m on stage at our church singing my first solo – Away in a Manger. My hair is curled and I have on a lacy dress. Is it blue? I can’t remember. I am standing in front of the mic singing and he is below, at the bottom of the steps, with a camera in his hand. He is skinny and has thick brown hair that sits atop his head like a football helmet. He has a mustache that looks like it needs to be combed every day.

He is Daddy.

I am six year old. I am wobbling down our Wisconsin driveway on two wheels. He is running along beside me. “Pedal faster!” “You’re doing great!” “Keep your head up!” “You can do it!” He lets go and I take off, exhilerated at my accomplishment.

He is encourager.

I am seven years old. We are driving in the car and the tape deck is blaring Paul Simon. He is singing loudly, drumming the steering wheel. “I can call you Betty and Betty when you call me, you can caaaallll meee Al. Call me Al.” He laughs and I laugh too. And together we sing.

He is fun.

I am nine years old. It’s Christmas morning and my brother and I are sitting at the top of the steps waiting for our parents to let us come down to open presents. It’s 4:00 am. I hear mom stumbling through the kitchen making coffee. She comments about the ungodly hour of our awaking and I hear him laugh. The he comes around the corner singing “We wish you a Merry Christmas” and we know it’s safe to come down. We tear into the living room to see the tree lit and him dancing around it.

He loves Christmas morning.

I am ten years old and we are at Busch Gardens water park in Tampa. I want to go down the big, plunging water slide but I’m nervous. He tells me that if I do it he will do it. Never one to back down from a challenge, I go down the water slide and he follows suit, shaking his head the whole time. “I didn’t think you’d do it,” he admits sheepishly as he climbs the stairs.

He keeps his promises.

I am eleven. He brings us into the living room and sits us down. He tells us that he got a new job and we’re going to move to a place I’ve never heard of – St. Louis. I cry and react with prepubescent flair. “I don’t care if it’s a neat city. I don’t know anyone there. I don’t waaannnna go.” He is probably hurt by my reaction, but he doesn’t let on.

He is understanding.

I am twelve years old. The neighbor boy is taunting and pushing me so I take a swing at him. He swings back and a full blown fight breaks loose. I land a punch and he takes off running. Later that night his mom calls to inform us that I gave her son a black eye. After I get the obligatory “you can’t get into fist fights” lecture he looks at me and grins, winks and says, “Way to go, slugger.”

He is awesome.

I am twelve years old. My mom received a call in the middle of the night that her sister was in a coma after having a severe reaction to a surgery. I get home from school and he is there, standing in the kitchen – waiting. “Where’s mom?” I ask. “She left on a flight to South Carolina,” he answered softly. “How’s Aunt Joy?” I ask, dread settling in. He pulls me close. “She passed away,” he whispered. This is my first encounter with death. And he holds me.

He is comforting.

I’m in eighth grade. My parents have temporary custody of my three cousins. The house is filled with emotionally confused children. We fight incessantly. He is in the middle of Washington University’s MBA program. Life is hard. I walk into his room one night to see him sitting at the desk staring blankly at the wall. I give him a hug.

He is stressed.

I’m a high school sophomore and I play saxophone for my high school Jazz Band. We are in Columbia for the All State competition. We are playing a difficult piece that I struggled to learn. We win first place. As a former Jazz Bander I know he is excited. I see him clapping his hands raw.

He is proud.

I am sixteen and I’ve had my driver’s license for all of 48 hours when I go to a school football game. While pulling into a parking space I hit another car, denting my car all the way down the side. Let me say that again for effect…I hit a parked car! I call him from a post-game party at a friend’s house after deciding that I shouldn’t let my guy friends try to bang out the dents with a hammer.

He is angry.

I’m a high school junior and I’m sitting on the floor of my room trying for the life of me to figure out the sum of x divded by y multiplied by 4,899. Algebra…the bain of my existence. He comes in and sits beside me. He takes a halting breath and tells me he lost his job. Then he cries and apologizes. He is out of work for several months before getting a pretty interesting and lucrative offer in Seattle. It would be a great career move. But he ultimately declines and accepts a job here in St. Louis that is a 25% pay decrease so he doesn’t have to uproot us.

He is self sacrificing.

It’s the summer before my senior year and he takes me on a trip to Colorado for a week. We challenge each other to climb mountains, we white water raft and we spend a week exploring. He lets me vent and complain about all my teenagery problems. I am angsty and hormonal and not always pleasant, but he pushes forward and we make memories – just the two of us.

He is involved.

I’m a senior in high school and preparing to graduate. Our church has a Sunday morning dedication to graduating seniors and he blubbers in the microphone about how I “better not bring home some snot nosed little Texas boy asking to marry me.”

He is a softie.

I am a sophomore in college performing in my first dinner theater. He stands in the back and video tapes the whole thing. I can hear him whistling and shouting on the tape.

He is supportive.

It’s 1998 and I’m studying in Ukraine for a semester. He calls and says he’ll be in London over Thanksgiving and asks if I’d like to meet him there. He picks me up from the airport on Thanksgiving night and we go to a Pizza Hut in London for dinner.

He is a great date.

I’m a junior in college and the family comes for a long weekend. I introduce them to a “friend” named Lee who spends an odd amount of time talking with them. Later when they drive home he tells mom that “that boy was awfully interested for someone who is just a friend.”

He is discerning.

I am twenty two and we are preparing to walk down the aisle. I have tears in my eyes as I look at him. He looks back with tear filled eyes. I am grateful for him and I know our relationship is going to change….I didn’t know it would change for the better. In that moment I was so flooded with love for him that I turned into a weepy, blubbery mess.

He is Father of the Bride.

I’m twenty five, lying in a hospital bed, and I hand him a squirming little bundle. He picks up his first grandchild and smiles gently. Even though I know that hospitals make him uncomfortable and he’s worried about how I’m doing, I see his face light up.

He is Grandpa Boss.

I am thirty *ahem* and I need business advice. I call him and he spends time he doesn’t have talking with me, giving me guidance, editing contracts and developing my professionalism. I call, email, text him multiple times and despite the fact that he is wicked busy, he takes the time to help me out.

He is advisor.

He is wise, discerning, strong, tender-hearted and giving. He loses his temper easily but is even quicker to ask for forgiveness. He is humble and I can almost guarantee he’ll tell me I’m giving him much more credit than he deserves. He is gracious and funny and has a wicked sense of humor. He works hard (too hard) but also knows how to relax.

He is Dad.

And who am I? I am that proud and grateful daughter who kind of adores him.

Happy Birthday (a day late), Dad. I love you!

*There is a great likelihood that I did not get all of the details of the early memories exactly right. They often appear to me as small snippets, like a technicolor film (never black and white…I’m not that old). I did the best I could to list accurate details. 🙂

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Life, Random Tagged With: 10-10-10, Father's, Happy Birthday, Honoring Dad

Potty Training 103

October 8, 2010 by Kelli

I’m not one to talk about all things potty on my blog. It isn’t my schtick. So you will not be getting all the gory details of Landon’s potty training, as diappointing as I’m sure that is to all of you.

Actually, things have been going as well as they could be around here. We’ve had plenty of accidents and when I say plenty I mean I’ve got six pairs of soiled underwear sitting in the basement waiting to be washed today. But we’re also having plenty of successes too.

The issue with child number three is the mobility of our lives. When I was enduring this conquering this with Sloan, we stayed home for a week. We did not leave the house. It was like house arrest…with leaking bodily waste. But we got the job done and after seven days it was over.

The second time around proved a bit more challenging thanks to an active four years old and a newborn in the house. There were many more accidents, but ultimately, we survived.

The third time around is almost feeling like an impossibility. He is having to be trained in Pull Ups most of the time, which is not overly effective in my opinion. But he really doesn’t like the picture on the front to disappear so that works in our advantage quite a bit. So far we’ve only had one major accident in public and that was yesterday at Walmart. Thankfully we made it out of the store before the dam broke.

He told me he had to go, then changed his mind and said he didn’t have to go. And I believed him. Sheesh. It’s like I’ve never done this before. Mom fail.

Otherwise we’re doing alright in public. And at home. Thankfully we are planning on getting new carpet soon so I’m not overly concerned when accidents happen on the floor. In fact, I’m kind of glad because I figure it will speed up the much needed process.

And speak of the devil, he just said he needs to go potty. Excuse me while I go fulfill my motherly duty and get up close and personal with my child. No one ever said motherhood was boring, right?

Filed Under: Family, Gross, Kids, Landon, Motherhood Tagged With: Landon, Motherhood, Potty Training