Straight From the Theme Park Trenches

I guess as a Mom, I often learn the hard way. Such is true from our many theme park adventures and recent Disney Cruise.

Just as the soldiers in the trenches during a gun battle with bullets whizzing by over head, you become quite grateful for the smallest of items that can essentially save you. You also mourn for the items you forgot, simply left behind or hadn’t thought of at all. If you had only known...

I am still a M.I.T (Mom in training) regarding family survival tactics for theme parks, but I have managed to learn a few things on these often harrowing but exciting adventures. They are as follows:

1) It is helpful to dress your kids in the same colors or outfits. You’d be amazed how difficult it becomes to pick your child out from a sea of children similar in age and height-all running in different directions!

2) Purchase kids ID tags or make a laminated one at home with your name and cell phone information and have them wear it on a lanyard.

3) Bring extra plastic bags for trash and any surprises! (Need I say more?)

4) Bring your own extra cups or sippy cups for splitting the gigantic $5 drinks among the kids. And of course-bring Ziploc bags or plastic storage containers to do the same for popcorn and other snacks

5) Most parks allow you to bring in snacks and water! By doing so, you can save your waistlines and your wallet!

6) If you’re going to Disney or on a Disney Cruise, there is a way to get goodies for less! On these trips, I shop the Disney.com outlet and make goodie bags complete with a t-shirt, stuffed animal, etc ahead of time for our daughters! On the first evening of the trip, we present the bags to them! They’re happy-and we save lots of time, money and potential whining!

7) While we are on the subject of Disney…It is brutally hot here in Florida during the summer months! If you want to avoid sun burn and the long lines, try to visit from November through March. Early December is a perfect way to enjoy some amazing weather and to avoid crowds…I have also been told that Super Bowl weekend is a perfect time to visit with no crowds!(And yes, even during these months, use the sunscreen!)

8) While we try to pack some sandwiches and snacks to feed our daughters prior to getting to the parks…I wish someone had suggested that I do the same for the trip home! When your feet are tired, wallet is empty and patience lost-some sandwiches and chips are perfect for empty tummies on the way home! (And pack some pajamas for the kids for the drive home! They will pass out and you surely don’t want to wake them!)


9) I know, I know, I know…this one is an easy one. Bring a change of clothes for the kids and yourself! I have been soaked by water, dropped drinks, mischievous mustard, ketchup and by dirty hands!

10) Bring your own First Aid kits with lots of band-aids! You will need them!

Hopefully, a few of these tips will spare you some bullets in the trenches! And maybe, just maybe, you won’t look quite as exhausted or as patience ridden as some of the parents exiting the park that day! (For fun, take note of parent’s facial expressions and body language coming into the park-and exiting. It is quite interesting!)

So, these tips are going into my own survival book---following the chapter on “Doing More with Less…Sleep!

And please, I would appreciate your tips for theme park survival! I need all the help I can get while in the trenches…

The Inside Secret

So, it really is true.

Sometimes, I feel invisible. I reach out and touch myself just to make sure I still exist. I’m the roadie making sure everyone has just what they need. I’m the cab driver just getting them place to place. I’m the camel walking ahead or behind lugging racquets, jackets, back packs, water bottles and crayons. I’m known as someone’s Mom not by my real name or a title.

Sometimes, I feel mundane. No, maybe just too plain. I walk them to school in gym shorts and bright orange crocks. I wear capris so I can gracefully maneuver at the park. I am often wearing a t-shirt with stains from dirty hands. I don’t have time for accessories and my purse is too loaded to change. My comfortable shoes are tattered from keeping up. My make-up is minimal because my time was spent making their lunch and doing their hair. I don’t have the time, energy or money to keep up with the latest fashions.

And then it happened. My oldest insisted that I follow in family tradition of wearing a birthday hat for my celebration at a local restaurant. When I jokingly replied that I should wear my tiara, she whole heartedly agreed. This tiara was the very one that I wore on my wedding day some six years ago. It was sealed in a box at the top of my closet.

My daughters shrieked in delight as we opened the box. And there it was…as beautiful as the December day that I wore it last.

With the tiara in hand, I slipped away. Leaving my very hungry husband to load up the girls, I began to tear through my closet. I changed into a hip black ensemble, switched ear rings, found a perfect necklace, dabbed on some Channel, used my twice a year eye shadow and mascara and managed a quick up do-before securing the tiara on my head. I looked pretty and I felt pretty.

That night, I walked a little more poised. I smiled a bit more. I felt graceful. My husband and daughters kept staring at me. The restaurant patrons probably wandered what the tiara was all about, but it didn’t matter to me. Our youngest played the tambourine with the entertainer and my oldest showered me with home made cards and gifts collected from home. And my husband sat a little closer and held my hand.

Several years ago, a Mother explained to our group that the best remedy for those down, doubt yourself days was a tiara. She kept a tiara handy for those days and moments. She would wear it while cleaning, grocery shopping or at events with the kids. It reminder her that she was a queen-a different type of queen. The shoulders rolled back and the smile came forward. After all, you have to be happy when you are donning a beautiful tiara. The secret of the tiara…is on the inside not the outside.

So, it is really true. And I am keeping my tiara handy.

I Just Didn’t Know

The good-byes are the hardest. We’ve done them with hundreds lingering on the tarmac exchanging letters, hugs, tears and last minute instructions while dreading that final moment. We’ve done them at home where one last children’s toy is repaired before loading the car. We’ve done them standing in the kitchen rinsing the last plate from breakfast when the dreaded knock on the door occurs.

We’ve done them at local airports with cars whizzing by, horns honking at us because they want the space and the traffic patrol urging us to move-on. We’ve done them hurriedly on the phone when the right words just wouldn’t come. We’ve done them standing before a congregation with hands and prayers bestowed upon us-with tears quietly streaming down our cheeks..

And each time, I stare at him trying to remember each and every detail of his face. I memorize his smile, the creases that frame his eyes when he smiles, his laugh and the last departing words. I always watch as he walks away and fades into the crowd.

I stand there alone with tears in my eyes, a lump in my gut and a hole in my soul. I offer a silent prayer for his safety. And then I plead in another for faith to replace my fear. I cry all the way home not knowing when – or if I will see or be with him again.

And then the good-bye is done. It is back to daily living. There is homework to do, school functions to attend, bills to pay, a garage to clean, toys that need new batteries, lunches to pack, household chores, hosting a daughter’s birthday party, weeds to pull, oil changes for the cars, grocery shopping, first aid for many cuts and bruises, and simply trying to keep up with the growing list of to do items usually tackled by two. I become, by definition, a single parent…and often, an overwhelmed one.

And, of course, there is always the car that break down, the home air conditioning or hot water unit that suddenly ceases, the dryer that won’t spin, the washer that leaks, the DVD player that becomes disabled, a relative’s emergency, the family of snakes that have taken up residence under the outside AC unit, an essential document that can’t be found anywhere and a smoke detector hung from twelve feet ceilings that seem to always go into power failure at 2am.

All of this, of course, while your husband is unavailable and thousands of miles away. You become adept at fixing things, asking for help or just learning to live with it until he returns. The chore list grows-and so do the weeds. You run late to outings and you run out of energy.

You try to be both for your children and quickly learn you can’t. You can’t fix things like him. You don’t play like he does. You can’t build magnificent things with a couple of pieces of wood, some nails and an old hammer. You don’t go to the park and play hide and seek and do trail walks. You’re not as good at piggy back rides and puzzles. You can’t ride the ocean waves with his skill and humor. The milk shakes are too thin. You don’t swim underwater and you can’t seem to get the bath games quite right. And you learn that this is okay. There is always a place – a space saved and waiting for him here.

And when their tears flow and their souls are wounded from simply missing their Dad, you know you can’t fix that either. All you can do is hug and hold them while saying, “Me too.” It hurts, really hurts – for all of us.

You see husbands and dads everywhere. You see them playing at parks, splashing at pools, walking hand in hand at school outings, sitting with their families at church, eating together at restaurants, mowing the yard and riding bikes to school. And we long for him…

The garage door doesn’t beep at 6:30 and there is no one for the girls to hug hello at the end of a long day and there is no one to share my thoughts or bed with at night. You go to bed alone with your heart empty and your mind racing. You sigh that you made it through another day and you pray he did too.

Along the way, there are friends that rush to help, friends that just question and friends that are just there – right when you need them. You cherish the words, “How can I help?” even though you rarely take anyone up on the offer. You say a prayer of thanks for the friend that insists on taking your kids for the day because she knows you need the break. You reserve your emotions about the friend who just doesn’t get it and never will. You cry about a kind note from another that came at the most needed moment.

You are politely excluded from couple outings or you go alone. Either way is lonely and not quite the same. You miss him-you need and want him there with you…just like everyone else.

During birthday parties or events with other families, you watch your daughters search for another Dad that may be willing to swing them in the air, toss them into the water or just play-like their Dad does. And when pseudo Dad sweeps her into his arms, you are grateful for this wonderful volunteer and amazing but brief moment of smiles.

There are the questions. The question from a five year old that asks, “If Dad is a soldier, does he kill people?”

Then there are the questions from friends asking about my stance on Bush, the war and the military. The question from someone you have just met asking if you even believe in war and if you think that the number of American casualties and cost are worth it. You’re asked where Bin Laden is and why we can’t catch him. You’re asked, “Why can’t we just leave Iraq and Afghanistan and let them settle it?”

War is so very, very complex…but for you it is simple. You support your husband. You support the missions and tasks he is assigned and his commitment to those. You support his love of God, family and country. You support that his concern for his own life is secondary to his commitment to secure peace and freedom for you, your children, family, and friends and for millions of Americans he doesn’t even know. His service is not about war but one of freedom.

You often hear, “You signed up for this…” but does anyone know what they really signed up for in life?

You didn’t know the absences would be so long or hurt that much. You didn’t know that you would be glued day after day to CNN hoping for something, anything that would offer you some information and insight. You didn’t know that you would shed so many tears for casualties never mentioned by name because you truly hurt for those families…and because it could have been him.

You didn’t know that not hearing from him for three days would keep you up at night just wondering if he is okay. You didn’t know that managing a household could be so overwhelming. You didn’t know that being without him could be so empty-so lonely. You didn’t know that your children could miss the simple things with him so much.

And you also didn’t know that you could love that deeply or unconditionally. You didn’t know that you could fix a faucet or a loose wheel on a bike. You didn’t know that you could manage the finances, handle family emergencies and attend parties and events alone.

You didn’t know that you would meet so many wonderful friends along the way. You didn’t know that you would have spiritual mentors that guided you back to your faith. You didn’t know that families would adopt yours at the holidays. You didn’t know that a stranger over hearing that your husband was deployed would pay for your meal and thank you for his service. You didn’t know that the many prayers and notes from others could offer such peace.

You didn’t know that your daughter’s teacher would take the extra time to listen and offer hugs in the moments of her sadness. You didn’t know that a friend would come get your daughters when you were sick and had no one to take over. You didn’t know that your daughters reciting the pledge of allegiance and parading a flag about your den could mean so much. You didn’t know that the Star Bangled Banner would make you cry, really cry.

You didn’t know that when you married this wonderful man that you and your family would be a part of his sacrifice as well. You didn’t know that this military life could be so painful, so joyful, so difficult and yet so meaningful. You just didn’t know.

I Missed It

I knew. I knew by the way his shoulders slumped and the contorted expression on his face. It said everything that he couldn’t.

As we neared on the sidewalk, he glanced at a neighbor leaving for work and said in a whisper, “Have a good day at the office.” She didn’t hear him and soon the car door slammed and she was off for work.

As he approached, I looked at him and with tears in my eyes, and said, “I am so sorry.”

His wife of some 26 years, took her last breath the evening before. It was her third battle with cancer and he said even in the end she fought bravely. She loved life and he loved her. He said he had cried so much that he simply had no tears left. His daughter was worried about him, but he assured her that he and his dog would be okay.

I hugged him several times with tears streaming down my face. I cried for his loss and mine. I apologized to him for my mistake.

You see, we have been neighbors for three years. They live across the street about five houses down. I would see him and his wife riding bikes and walking the dog and always politely wave-but I never even knew their names. Somehow the busyness of life just got in the way. I never knew them. I never took the time to know them. That changed some four weeks ago.

Hearing she was sick, I stopped and introduced myself to him, gave him all of our contact information and urged him to please call if we could help in any way. The girls and I made several surprise trips with her favorite ice creams, flowers or hand made cards. And he surprised us with some vegetables from the local farmer’s market on a Sunday.

I talked to her once several weeks ago. She was gracious, courageous and downright funny even in the middle of a fight for her life. Sadly, in all of the three years we were neighbors that would be our very first and very last conversation.

So- I was sorry. I was deeply saddened for him, his daughter, their family and friends. But…as I explained to him, I was sad for me. I missed it. I missed getting to know a gem that lived right here-so near and I missed it.

God Surely Smiled and So Did I

Following gymnastics and a quick dinner out, we were heading home. The girls and I were chatting about everything, anything and nothing at all. The clamor consisted of littering, the guy that was running too fast, the lady not wearing a bike helmet, something about turtles and the meaning of the yellow stoplight.

As we made the turn for the home stretch, I saw it. It was the most brilliant sunset I have seen in years. Backed against the Florida sky, were gray blue skies delicately trimmed in orange with rays of golden sunlight stretched between the clouds as if they were mountains. Today, God was surely smiling.

As I pointed it out to my daughters, the youngest remarked that a pair of fluffy clouds in this amazing display of artistry looked just like bears and sure enough – they really did.

The oldest remarked that we must hurry home. I sped up just a little- all while the car fell suddenly silent. Minutes later, we pulled into the drive way. My oldest jumped out of the car and raced to the door. As we made our way in, she quickly disappeared and then reappeared – with paper, markers and an easel in hand.

“I must draw it.” she informed me. “And-we must all sit together and watch it.” she added.

So, there we sat-the three of us at the end of our drive way just watching. My oldest asked, “How do I draw this?”

I replied softly, “Just draw what your heart and eyes see.”

So our oldest began drawing-examining the sky and making absolutely sure she captured the shape and colors of the delicate clouds with just the right marker. Even our cat, George, joined in as he positioned himself in the middle of the quiet crowd.

Ten minutes later, the sun was absent from the horizon and the once bold colors were silenced. I gathered up the supplies and glanced at the beautiful drawing done by a five year old.

As the two were chasing George about the grass, I smiled. Simple things, like a glorious sunset shared with two young daughters, are the most treasured moments. I long, I need more moments just like this one…

And sometimes, as a Mom, in the midst of hectic schedules, endless chatter and the race to maintain a routine, I may see them with my eyes- but often fail to see them, really see them with my heart.

And I am grateful that my oldest didn’t let this one- yet simple- but amazing- moment pass us by.

The Meat Loaf

It was a beautiful day and we headed on over for a play date. My friend answered the door with a baby perched on her hip, the other hand frantically waving at the dog to stay back- all the while attempting to keep her knee in front of the other two—as my daughters and I slid our way into their lovely home.

Shrieks of delight were exchanged between the five children and soon the older ones scurried off to play and slowly destroy her once neat and tidy home-room by room. We both sighed. The destruction and impeding voice volumes are well worth it when you simply carve that one on one friend time – also known as adult interaction.

So there we were. It was she and I and the baby in the bouncer. Life was good.

She showed me around her wonderfully warm home and introduced me to her lovable and very social dog. After refereeing several minor disagreements between the other
four, we sat at the kitchen table to talk and catch up.

Twenty minutes later, the baby decided our time was up. Just like a baby pro, he managed to completely consume the next 30 with the usual-feeding, changing, playing and crying. I wasn’t irritated –just simply sympathetic. It wasn’t that long ago that mine were baby pros too.

Just as the baby settled down and the kids were playing quietly in the play room, my friend decided it was time to get started on lunch. She took the meat out of the refrigerator and the potatoes from the pantry.

I assumed we would have the usual-chicken nuggets, PB&J or pizza with some fruit or fries on the side. I really didn’t want her going to any trouble feeding me and my toddlers.

Seeing my startled look, she said, “I hope you don’t mind. We are having home made meat loaf and mashed potatoes for lunch today.”

“Sounds great to me. Please, what can I do to help you?” I asked.

“You just sit and enjoy yourself. I have it.”

So, I began to watch this wonderful Mother of three began to make the meat loaf and peel potatoes. The baby would cry and she would stop to console him and then resume making the feast. The children would yell and she would rush to help and to intervene. I offered assistance and she kept refusing…although she finally did let me hold and console the little one.

She frantically worked on this magnificent lunch for some 45 minutes. We talked when we could –in between all the activities and the joyful chaos.

Finally, the delicious lunch was served. I am embarrassed to say that my two ate very little of the delicious home made meat loaf and mashed potatoes. However, they were excited to devour the home made cookies that followed.

By the time we cleared the table, cleaned the kitchen and we returned the rooms to a pre-visit status, it was time to go.

As my girls were chasing her kids, I hugged her and said, “I really wish you hadn’t of gone to all that trouble. Next time, it is pizza on me.”

As we backed out of the drive way, we waved to all of them and I noticed she had the baby perched once again on her hip-and she looked exhausted. Our visit there had simply created more work, more stress and more exhaustion for her. She needed conversation and support-not more work.

While I appreciated her kind gesture of the meal, I too was seeking the same that day. I left with my belly full but my heart and soul still longing for simple conversation, funny stories and the laughter of “You too?”

I wished we had made yet another PB&J for us and for them –and used our time to laugh, cry, smile and simply ponder Motherhood. Time was the food that our souls needed the most that day…and we both left the table hungry.

As a Mom, I have often let the meat loaf get in my way too. Somewhere along the way, I became convinced that points are tallied by visiting friends and family for the cleanliness of our floors, glimmering toilets, sparkling counter tops, hidden dust bunnies, perfectly organized pantries and clutter free family rooms. I just knew extra points were given for home cooked meals, freshly baked cookies, fresh flowers and a perfectly planned activity schedule-with something for everyone.

The work, the planning and the details left me exhausted, frustrated and seeing these visits as somewhat of a chore…at least for me.

And then something changed. During a visit with my husband’s parents, my Mother-in-law explained that she wanted to spend more time with us-not in the kitchen-during our visit. She cooked a wonderful meal or two, but we fetched take-out BBQ, made sandwiches for lunch and dined on “just fine” cereal for breakfast. We all received the best gift…time with each other.

Since then, I have learned to relax a little. My husband no longer hides during my pre-visit cleaning frenzies- he actually joins right in. The house will be tidy but there be some run away dust bunnies, loads of laundry that still need to be folded and toys scattered about. My home will not be perfect-and neither will we…but I can bet you will feel welcomed!

I do plan and cook some meals but I also plan take-out, pizza or fun restaurant visits. Fun things and adventures are planned-but so is down time for everyone-even me.

And I can say, that in the last few years, the last minute cook-outs with ten friends, the last minute pizza dinner here with a friend and her kids, the last minute stay here by my husband’s friend –they were the best! Forget the cleaning, forget the planning-there was no time! I just went with it…come as you are and take me as I am! No grand gestures offered…just the gift of time and having fun together!

So before you work yourself into another cleaning frenzy, plan that third gourmet meal or dust the top of your refrigerator…your friends and family won’t remember your polished floor, the breaded tilapia parked on the perfect mound of rice, the unique hand towel in the guest bath or your clutter free closets…they will remember you and how you made them feel. And they will relish that they never left your table hungry.

True story. Really, it is.

As usual this morning, we began our journey to the elementary school just across the street. I wish it were that simple. You must first cross a dewy ands grassy knoll- all while pulling a wagon occupied by a three year old in pajamas eating a toaster stick. So while holding my oldest daughters hand and using the other to lug 33 pounds of toddler plus the wagon – we did just that.

We made it safely down the grassy hill to the intersection where we crossed the main road-still holding hands and pulling the wagon. Crossing the intersection, I sighed in relief as we made it to the sidewalk that leads right to the school.

So far, everything had gone smoothly. George, our cat, did not try and follow us to school. The smallest had not cried yet. The oldest had both her lunch bag and back pack in tow with an extra dollar for the snack cart. And well, I wasn’t covered in sweat – yet.

Yes, it seemed to be a perfect morning. I just should have known it was too good to be true.

As I have learned, there are the rules of the “road” when walking, biking or scootering to school. It is a narrow sidewalk bordered by a fence with heavy greenery protruding from it, so it doesn’t permit two lanes of pedestrian traffic. From what I have gathered, those heading to school seem to have the right of way... or so I thought.

So, we have the crossing guard in sight and then it happened. As we were making our way there, he approached. I saw an older man of a not so slight build walking alone in the middle of the one way sidewalk.

Assuming that he would step aside for the Mom in gym shorts, bright orange Crocks lugging a toddler in a wagon holing the hand of a Kindegartener, I continued on the sidewalk. As we got closer, I realized he was trying to make a point and was certainly not intending to step aside to let us continue on. So, the Mother duck and pure stubbornness in me-and abiding by the rules of the road, I decided to take the challenge. We too continued straight.

So, we kept walking towards each other. Our bellies almost collided as stood in front of us and yelled “EXCUSE MEEEEEEEEEE…” He abruptly stepped aside muttering some things under his breath that I prayed my children didn’t hear. I politely said, “How rude.”

I simply shook my head in disbelief. A father passed us shaking his too saying how sorry he was that someone acted like that.

I could only assume that grizzly man either didn’t understand the rules of the road, was born with no manners or was simply just temporarily or permanently miserable. Either way, I was grateful to be living my life and not his.

I can say that when we reached Bob, the beloved older gentleman that is our crossing guard, he more than made up for Grizzly. His smile and kind words simply cancelled the tyranny that had occurred minutes before. We made it safely to school and then after dropping the oldest off at her class, turned around to head home.

Life sure is like that too. It seems to me that the negative aspects of our journey are there to teach us –to challenge us-to make us stronger than we knew we could be. And the positive- to teach us appreciation for all the wonderful people, places and opportunities that surprise and surround us on this great, big and amazing journey.

Make It

As Moms, we make beds, make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, make dinner, make beds, make love with our husbands, make life better for friends, family and even strangers, make chocolate birthday cakes, make cards and notes to lift someone’s spirits, make eggs and pancakes, make a celebration out of children’s milestones, make floors and toilets shine, make medical and dental appointments to keep our families healthy, make the pick-up lines after school, make yet another school or sporting event, and make sure everyone else’s life is running smoothly and that they have exactly what they need to be successful, to feel loved and appreciated.

But… what about ourselves?

Do we make the time to stop, breath and just be? Do we make the time to plan and dream? Do we make the time to consider our own passions, purpose and dreams? Do we make the time to decide who and what we want to be?

Do we make the time to carve out the niche just for us? Do we make the time to feed and love ourselves and our own souls? Do we make the time to push aside the fear, the guilt and to do a little something on the sidelines that is for us-about us-screams us?

Do we? Do you?

Make something new in your life that is about and for you. Make your heart sing and your soul smile. Make the journey to finding that part of you that you have hidden, forgotten or haven’t talked to in awhile. Make the time to rediscover and love you.

Start today and make a difference and change in your own life. Make yourself happy and make your life a fulfilling and balanced one. Make a decision to just do it.

Make this life your life too.

What Did You Do Today?

My husband has learned not to ask, “What did you do today?”

First, it implies that I might have done nothing.

And of course, you can’t build a great story around five loads of laundry, the spilled milk, finding the matching mate for two pairs of shoes, packing another peanut butter and jelly sandwich, chasing the snake from the patio, a search and rescue for the mysterious stench coming from the pantry, pick-up lines, another glorious trip to the grocery store, scooping the litter box, calling sitters for Saturday and all the rest of it!

He knows not to ask, because heck I cannot even answer that question. I have often wondered where my time and day actually goes. So I started thinking…where is my time spent?

So, I decided to look at just a few categories for this oh-so scientific study of mine. Let’s see, the way I figured it…Yearly, I spend an average of 182.5 hours on laundry, 121.6 hours on search and recovery, 608.3 hours cooking and preparing meals, 365 hours on sparkling toilets, 182.5 reliving my schooling via homework and educational activities, 152 hours on children’s crafts and 456.25 hours driving the family cab.

Let’s not forget the 121.66 hours herding and yelling “Hurry up!”, 255.5 hours on my cell phone planning, coordinating and venting, 48.6 hours for appointments, 158.6 hours observing children’s sports activities, 85.1 hours on “Please wear something else…” and the 139 hours of torture buying expensive groceries, praying for a sale at Target for birthday presents, searching for cards for less than the cost of a meal and miscellaneous items.

It continues at 24.3 hours twiddling my thumb at children’s birthday parties, 12.1 hours in attending classroom celebrations, 30.4 hours wiping a tear or mending a broken heart and 73 hours refereeing another fight between the girls. (And I calculated when the girls were in diapers, I spent another 486.6 hours a year just on one!)

So, according to my paltry math, my basic work day averaged about 8.26 hours! If you have children in diapers or are in the midst of potty-training feel free to add in 80minutes per day per child for your own statistical analysis!

My husband is a smart man. He instead asks, “How was your day?” It makes my life seem so much more entertaining and worthwhile to humorously describe the funny adventures related to these often mundane tasks.

But, if he ever dares to ask, “What DID you do today?” I finally have the list, the answer and my reply. Then, I will sadly reassure him that my fantasy of consuming an entire bag of Dove chocolates while lounging in bed the entire day watching Lifetime television uninterrupted- simply cannot and will not happen any time soon!

Just Borrow Mine

Yet another research study. Study after study, research project after research project, hundreds of subjects, pages of notes, boundless research dollars and thousands of cat naps later-it is revealed. A 15-20 minute nap during the day increases your energy and productivity. In our every day world, it simply means that you are re-energized.

I, and many millions of Mothers just like me, didn’t need another fancy, detailed and very expensive research study to tell us that. We know because we have kids.

When our children were infants, my husband and I resorted to some humorous tactics to prevent them from falling asleep while close to home and even closer to their official nap time! Let’s see, we would roll down all the car windows, blare the radio and even make miscellaneous loud noises to keep them awake…because we knew their secret of the little nap.

Just today, our youngest and her best friend were doing their best to empty out or entertain (My friend and I laughingly debated over which they were trying to accomplish…) our section at Chilli’s with their antics.

A mere ten minutes later on the way to the school pick up line, I looked back to find her slumped over in her car seat snoring like a grizzly. Yes, I knew what the latter part of the afternoon would have in store for me thanks to that dear little nap. I gulped a caffeinated soda and a Nutri-Grain bar to prepare myself for the energy I would need later- just to keep up!

I have seen my two awake from a brief nap and run Nascar speed laps around a restaurant, touch every other product down a grocery aisle, produce noise levels comparable to a gym basketball game and turn a clean and organized house unto something unrecognizable in a mere thirty minutes.

I severely underestimated the power of that little nap. What I could have done, what I could have been –if I would have known the value of that little nap in my pre-Mom years.

So, researchers, save your money! You can just borrow my three year old for your study for as many days as you need her or can stand it—throw in a Happy Meal and an on-site sitter at your place and we will call it even!

Just Slam on the Brakes

You sure can learn a lot from a five year old. As I was scurrying about the house trying to clean, find homes for lost items, pay some bills, write some belated notes and placing the second movie in the DVD player, I announced with a sigh that I was finally going to the office to write my article.

My five year old looked me square in the eye and asked, “What would happen if you didn’t do that-if you didn’t write the article? Watch the movie with me…”

I paused. It is a great question with an easy answer.

The masses would remain silent. There would be no protestors or curious inquiries. The world would continue. Simply put, no one would really notice or care but me.

So, I answered her important, simple and thought provoking question. “Absolutely nothing.” I replied.

She reminded me that is essential and so important to sometimes just slam on the brakes, stop and enjoy what is really important in a Mother‘s life…time together.

So, I am being lead out of my office by the hand of one of my greatest treasure’s…my daughter. And I am chunking the article for some uninterrupted time together just snuggling on the couch together in the middle of a sunny afternoon.

Angry Eggs

It was just one of those mornings. I just had nothing left on a bright and early Saturday. It had been a long summer-with my husband being away and with an extra two twin 7 year old boys in addition to my own two to love, entertain and well…serve.

School had just begun that very week and we were all dragging from the new dawn schedule and mad morning rush routine. And it was Saturday…. Even the cats were sleeping in. And then it happened…He asked, no begged, for a hot meal!

Now, usually my darling husband cooks breakfast on the weekends, but since I had somehow melted the base of our griddle during the summer (and somehow avoided a house fire), it was out of commission and so was he and his infamous pancakes!

“A hot breakfast? You’re kidding right?” I asked.

“Please!” he replied.

Stumbling out of bed, I slowly headed for the kitchen. Amused, I thought about his small and simple request. He is a great husband and really doesn’t ask for much.

I retrieved the eggs from the refrigerator and managed to find some remaining end pieces of bread (minus the mold) for toast. I plucked a bowl from the cabinet and cracked the eggs. I began stirring and then it happened.

Somehow, I just became angry. I looked around the house and noticed I was the only one up. It was quiet. I was tired. And now-I was mad. Selfishly, I wanted someone to just take care of me. I wanted to sit at the table and quietly read the paper while slowly enjoying a breakfast that was prepared by someone else and served- to me!

I whisked those eggs fast and furious. I over greased the pan and in they went. I didn’t even realize that I had set the burner on high.

“Eggs? I will give you eggs…” I thought. I threw the toast in the toaster and randomly turned the dial.


I began making the coffee and fed the cats, now slowly sauntering in, their second choice of canned food since I refused to reach into the back of the cabinet for the other! During this egg-stravaganza, I lost count of the coffee scoops as I shoved the filter back in. I turned the timer on for 20 as I passed the dryer not checking if they were actually dry and not wanting to have to take them out either. I ignored the dishwasher’s green light indicating the dishes were clean and needed to be put away.

Oh, so back to the eggs. Well, they were now a bit dry in the overly hot pan. You know, with the little plastic edges around them that you somehow mesh back into the fold. Smelling something burning, I glance over to see that the toast is well done. I grab some mismatched plates and scoop the plastic eggs and well done toast onto the plate.

About that time, my handsome husband walks in and says, “What’s for breakfast?”

He gets his coffee and we make it to the table right at the same moment.

“Here’s your breakfast…” I say.

He looks at the breakfast, looks at me and sits right down. He ate every last bite of his breakfast out of appreciation, but mainly from fear.

As the girls and I were enjoying our usual bowl of oatmeal and English muffins, I asked, not even looking up, “How were your eggs?”

“My angry eggs were just fine.” he replied.

Later, we laughed about it. He has had angry eggs before and probably will again! Meanwhile, he will be heading to Walmart this week to replace the griddle. He will enthusiastically prepare breakfast for me next weekend and I will tenderly pack his lunch this week.

In marriage and life, it really is all about the simple things. Simple things can lift you up or take you down. They are small actions with large messages-and you often don’t have to look far or hard to see or understand them. So often, they are right there in front of you speaking volumes…just like the angry eggs.

Sinners and Beginners

Yes, we were screening calls that day. As we finished our lunch, we could faintly hear the message that was being left on our voicemail. “Who’s the sinner?”, our youngest asked as a recorded message from our local Congressman Senator Bob Graham was being played. (No offense, Senator Graham…) Of course, this was worth a chuckle considering some recent and high profile scandals involving several politicians that seemed to be competing with more important and worldly matters. (And you should know, I happen to like politicians-especially since my Dad is one!)

Yes, this little one of ours always seems to know when we need a laugh! As we were leaving a birthday party this summer, I was trying to herd four children ages 3-7 through several yards and to the car…all the while trying to describe the urgency in doing so as a fierce thunderstorm was brewing. As we dashed towards the car, the little one bringing up the rear exclaimed, “Hurry, we might get striped!” My twin nephews, making up half of the described herd, bellowed in laughter as we settled in the car. Of course, we all knew what she meant, but the imagery of striped sure went well with being toasted by the voracious Tampa lightening!

We have gotten quite a bit a mileage out of her toddler takes! Looking for some quick Mexican, she pointed proudly and said, “Tired Bell”! I am sure they are tired with the late hours they keep at that restaurant! (Do you really make money during those hours?)

And then- there is the the crashstand for garbage –which makes sense if you have seen my two trying to throw anything larger than a napkin. And well, the neighborhood for a hood-that has carried so many small items and figurines in it that it could qualify for a full fledged community.

The older one is great for some humor as well! Just the other night, we were preparing for her very first day of Kindegarten. During the back to school night, her teacher had been kind enough to send some “Jitter Glitter” to be sprinkled upon her sweet head to help her sleep! Well, she wanted to make sure that I didn’t forget this task and kept following me around the house inquiring about the __itter glitter! (Now, I will leave it up to your imagination to fill in the blanks – but there are blanks for a reason!) My husband and I were doubled over in laughter as we went over and over the correct pronunciation with her again…and sure that she would announce to her brand new teacher how much she liked it-using the incorrect pronunciation! First impressions-right?

Where there is love, there just has to be humor…at least in this house! We just wouldn’t laugh-or survive without it!

The Dinner is Done and So Am I

Recently, my husband returned home from a long day at work in the evening to find three place settings at the table instead of the usual four, two screaming children, one severely burned pan, a home that looked like a natural disaster site and a frazzled wife.

Instead of being met with the customary hug and kiss, I informed him dinner was done and so was I. Without even looking up, I grabbed the car keys and announced I was going out-somewhere, anywhere but here! As I made my way through the laundry room, I heard him exclaim, “Take your time-for the sake of the rest of us!”

As I backed out of the driveway, I knew just the place to go. I headed to Friday’s with a stack of old magazines that I never seem to have time to read, my reading glasses, a craving for a turkey burger and Mojito and someone to wait on me!

When I arrived, I explained that I was a runaway “Mom” and that I needed a quiet booth away from the crowd. So, alone in my solitary booth I savored every bite of my burger, every sip of my drink and learned all about important and not so important issues going on outside my homestead! It was a great dinner…

On the way home, I called my Mother to vent with tears streaming down my cheeks. After a few dozen more,, “You’ll be okay…” reassurances from my Mother while parked in the driveway, I walked back in…My husband, a smart and kind man, took my hand and led me into our bathroom where he had a warm bath and candles waiting. The frustration seemed to melt away as I soaked and soaked. Someone in my house did something for me – and I felt loved and appreciated. It was just what I needed.

Motherhood is so joyful, so exciting but also so very demanding. As a Mom, you are on 24/7, 365 days a year with no sick leave or vacation! It is all about giving and placing your family and others first –with often no time or energy left for you. And when the “giving” tank reaches empty, there is absolutely nothing left. So, how do I fill my tank?


Once a year, I frequent a local hotel/spa for a 24 hour get away! Armed with books and magazines, my favorite bath oils, chocolate and a desire for “all about me” time, I go –alone. I indulge in a massage, lots of sleeping time and am happy to frequent the restaurant that is right there! My husband often says that this is a wise investment because I return so rested, relaxed and much happier and more giving when I return!

I must say too that I really enjoy eating an occasional breakfast, lunch or dinner alone! During my career travels, I became accustomed to dining alone and learned to treasure those uninterrupted moments of peace. So, now in the midst of Motherhood, I enjoy having a meal without looking for lost shoes or children under the table, those endless trips to the restrooms and refereeing yet another argument. During these meals, I love to read, observe others and just to have a moment to think, plan or dream.

One of my other favorites is to relax, nap or read by the YMCA pool-all while the girls are in childcare! My friends know where to find me after a workout!

I love my family. I love my friends. And I have learned that to be the loving, caring, kind, humorous, committed and loyal wife, Mother and friend that I need to be-I have to love me. And sometimes that means filling my tank by simply just being alone.

So, make an effort to fill your own tank this month! Push aside the chaos, chatter and clutter – and take time to recharge, regroup and revive your own soul…quietly. You and your own family will be glad you did!

A Time-Out For Mom

Today amongst Ker Plunk, building a Lincoln Log community and some crafts, my daughters decided to make me a part of their magic show. They weren’t having much luck making their latest Bratz dolls disappear and they needed an easier challenge-me!

So, they covered me with various blankets and pillows from head to toes and explained they were going to make me magically disappear. They asked me where I would like to go. I laughingly replied, “To a remote island with lots of sun, few people and a cabanna boy that can fetch me drinks, food and magazines.” My oldest, trying to take it in, said, “Mom, what’s a cabanna boy?” I smiled and said, “You’ll understand that one when you are a Mom.”

So, with their magic wands, also known as pencils, waving they said their magic words and presto. I was still there-much to their dismay and mine.

With a husband that is often gone, a three and five year old, two cats and a goldfish named John, I often long for the days when I could call in sick. Those were the days-just wearing my fat pants, warm socks while just laying on the couch watching Lifetime uninterrupted except for food and bathroom breaks-for an entire day.

While I treasure being a wife and Mother, I often find myself longing for some peace. Peace from the noise, chaos, demands, chores, errands, request and endless questions that accompany Motherhood. While it is a joy being called “Mom”, it is also exhausting both emotionally, mentally and physically. Every so often, when the stress meter is on high and the energy level is on low, I attempt a time out-for me.

My hair stylist, Mandy, thinks it is quiet funny that when my husband is out of town or working late, that I am actually excited about heading to Friday’s with a stack of magazines to eat and have a drink-alone. Other friends at the Y know that if they can’t find me in the fitness area at the Y – that I am most likely reading the paper in the “decompression chamber” also known as the pool! I also have an hour of daily quiet time at our home. Our daughters may individually read, draw, play quietly or nap –and I do the same.

And during my once a year-self imposed and husband encouraged retreat, my friends inquire if I will be lonely on my 24 hour retreat. I reply with a smile, “No, but I will be alone.”

I love going to this special local inn with a spa, sauntering back to my room with a large stack of magazines, a spa tub and room service---and the quiet room with the comfy bed. (If you haven’t done this, save up and do it! You deserve and need it!)


As they tell you on that airplane, place your own oxygen mask on before doing so for your children. And sometimes, just sometimes, I try to do the same in daily life. I need to take care of me once in awhile, so that I can do my best in taking care of them.

Enthusiasm Over Excuses

Simply put, our five year old daughter just loves a party. So, I should have known that the small thought and discussion of having several friends over for a play date would morph into something much larger. (After all, her Mother once invited the whole college football team to her apartment for a spaghetti dinner when she couldn’t even cook! The room mates were thrilled…So it must be genetic!)

About six weeks ago, she came bounding out of her room with a stack of papers and a huge smile. She informed me that these were the invitations to the “party” and that we had to deliver them to the neighbors that very day. I called several friends in our cul-de-sac and prepared them for her arrival!

While I waited at the end of the drive way, she would eagerly hurry to the next house and the next. Each neighbor would take the pretend invitation, exchange a few words with her and look up at me and wave. When she arrived home, she enthusiastically explained that one neighbor agreed to bring the table cloths, another some steaks and that I was to locate some beautiful pink plates and napkins for the party.

I just knew this party phase would pass, but it hasn’t. She watches the cooking show for ideas, selects specific flowers out of the garden for making table arrangements and peruses the isles of the $1.00 Target isles for gift bag ideas.

She makes party and food lists in her little book while grocery shopping—with me spelling the items out loud for her! (So, if you hear someone spelling cucumber or pecan swirls again loudly in the aisle of a grocery store-it is us! Stop and say hello!) While at the bakery section, she asks lots of questions about the cakes, desserts and cookies in the case. She is quite the party planner!

On her own, she enlisted the help of two of my friends to actually play the harp and flute at this party…and has been practicing on her own harp for the proposed trio. One neighbor has agreed to do hair. She has selected a jewelry kit and face painting for additional entertainment for this girl only event. Oh, and I was strictly informed that both kids and adults would be invited.

I have held her off for weeks with a varied list of excuses-the weather, vacation plans, other’s vacation plans, the two birthday parties we just held and paid for, the time needed for planning and more! She overlooks these excuses and simply continues on with her enthusiasm and her plans. And it has worked. Her enthusiasm won out over my excuses and I am delighted to say we will be having a tea party in July—after the harpist returns from vacation!

Enthusiasm over excuses… It is her secret weapon-and it used to be mine. Before Motherhood, I would simply set my mind to something and forge ahead—while others said I shouldn’t or couldn’t. Such obstacles and objections just heightened my enthusiasm and determination for the goal-big or small. Whether it was buying that first house in my early 20’s, choosing Outward Bound as my summer vacation, running my first marathon in Dublin at 30 or walking away from a great job to start a consulting business-I shoved aside the should nots and just did it. My enthusiasm for living life to the fullest was far more important than adhering to my fear.

And then I became a Mom. Two daughters later, I am in the midst of the “Mother Duck” syndrome- keeping my girls close, safe and away from harm. “Stay away from that curb.” “Don’t swim too far…” “Stay close. I have to be able to see you.” “Take a jacket just in case…” “Hold my hand…there are cars out there.” “Look both ways-twice.” “Don’t talk to strangers.” “Stay in the shallow end.” “Don’t pedal too far ahead.” “Walk slowly-don’t run.” “Think about it.” “Test the water before you get in.” “Walk, don’t run.”

And somewhere along the way in teaching them to avoid danger and harm…safety Mom is playing it safe too. All of a sudden, it is me hugging the curb of life, being a little fearful of wading out past my knees in that great ocean and testing the waters oh so carefully before I make the plunge.

Lately, I have a business interest that just keeps tugging at my heart. I shared this dream with my husband and he thought it was a great idea. Then, I launched right into all the reasons I shouldn’t do it. He looked at me and asked, “Why are you so afraid of this? Why all these excuses? When I met you, you weren’t afraid of anything.”

My answer stunned even myself. “It might succeed and I am afraid. “

Afraid of success-that’s a new one! “What I really meant to say was “I have this nice, safe, neat, routine and little undisturbed world –and change would be difficult.” It is easier to play it safe-or is it?

As a Mom, I relish the big and small joys of seeing our daughters grow and learn. And – while, I need the comfort and routine of our daily lives, I find myself needing more. I need just a bit of the old daring and enthusiastic me to return once in while. And I need to pursue my dreams both big and small. After all, as the saying goes, “Everyone needs something to do, someone to love and something to hope for.”

So, I pushed safety Mom aside for a rest and have decided to shake things up a bit in my own life. Enthusiasm over excuses…I have decided to embrace change rather then fearing it. I joined a training group at the Y after a year of thinking about it. And the business idea-it’s in the works and I am excited!

My daughters are watching me. Besides being safety Mom, I am their life guide. It is my role to teach them the difference in clinging to the curb to avoid an accident and stepping away from the curb to pursue a dream. As a Mom and their greatest teacher, I have to live the difference. They will become what they see and will dare to dream-if I do.

The Bag Lady

As Moms, I thought we had to wear many hats- but I have changed that way of thinking. Instead, as Moms we must carry many bags.

My husband always laughs as holiday or birthday gifts arrive from my girl friends. “Is it a picture frame, candle…or another bag?” he will ask.

See, I like- no- love bags! I need bags! As I look about the house, there are many bags. There’s the pool bag stocked with towels, sunscreen and now empty juice boxes. There is the emergency bag with a change of clothes for everyone, paper towels and a hair brush. There’s the activity bag with books, crayons, paper and an Etch and Sketch for doctor visits.

There is my reading bag stuffed with the latest magazines perfect for the school pick up lines and waiting at the girl’s gymnastics. Let’s not forget my gym bag-complete with bottled water, gloves, goggles, hair clips and my Ipod. Oh and the prize bin bag. The famous bag in which all left over holiday, school and birthday candy and prizes are dumped- I mean - placed for future rewards.

Enough bags? Are you kidding! Since these bags represent the many facets of our expanding lives – we are always in need of more! And as I stock them, tote them and lug these things around for me and the girls – it gives a new and more stylish meaning to the term the “bag lady”. A term that I will carry well…

Everyone Needs a Team

Life sure can throw you some curve balls. My brother, battling Aplastic Anemia for some three years, was awaiting word on a bone marrow donor in March when we received some other frightening news. My husband’s Mother called to say she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. They felt they had caught it early but they insisted on removing the lump right away. Her surgery was scheduled for April – the same month my brother was hoping to finally have his donor and transplant---and the same week my husband was leaving for another deployment.

The news took our breath away. We cried, we worried and we wondered how and why. I was full of questions and worry about how I could be there for both, how I could accomplish it logistically with the girls and the many things I wanted to do to insure that both families were loved and supported. Faith over fear – I thought. And-I went into action mode.

My husband’s Mother, with her usual grace and faith, insisted that she face her breast cancer head on with the news out in the open for all to know and understand. She encouraged me to once again call on so many friends and family members that had become such fierce and loyal prayer warriors. She knew it was something I could, would and needed to do.

So, I wrote this amazing group offering yet another update on my brother paired with the news about my Mother-in-law. And as usual, their responses brought me to tears. There were e-mails of prayer, hope and comfort to me, her and my brother. Inspirational notes and cards were mailed to friends that they have never, ever met. These prayer warriors inquired about the specific prayer needs and wishes of both. They heard, they felt and they acted with simple kindness and grace. Such small gestures-that had an enormous impact on all of us.

And the love keeps on coming. Many have joined the bone marrow registry. Others simply keep writing those notes to my brother and his own family that lift their spirits on those cloudy days. Some have sent him crossword puzzles, projects, movies and magazines to pass the time in isolation. Others—simply pray… and often. It’s the simple things…

I stumbled on this great lesson while I was three months pregnant and our oldest was two. My husband deployed for a four month tour in Iraq at the height of the war. I was ridden with fear, anxiety and worry. Slowly I began sending out e-mails with his updates and asking those to pray for his safety. This wonderful group embraced our prayer needs and more. They sent notes, cards and words of inspiration to both of us. They knew just what we needed –a little bit of faith over fear. It helped to see our family through a challenging journey-one I was grateful that I did not have to face alone.

It is comforting to know that through such storms, there are those bright lights of hope and faith. We are never, ever alone on a journey. We weren’t designed to be a one man operation in a crisis or in the midst of joy. We courageously reach out and others compassionately reach back. We all need a team…and I am grateful for this one.

That Little Suit

No, no, no…it can’t be! It’s that time of year already? I am not prepared! It has arrived to soon…I need more time! P-l-e-a-s-e, not yet.

Could it be that my daughters are out of school—looking for the next adventure and asking the endless “What next Mom?” Maybe it’s the extra gray hairs from scrambling to find another camp or vacation bible study for their entertainment and my survival. Maybe it’s the lyrics, “let me entertain you…” as I attempt to comb through various community event schedules to fill our days with some low cost fun. Maybe it is the summer art box that we have already plowed through with the paint and glitter etched on the kitchen table and patio to prove it. Entertain to stay sane…

Maybe it is the family vacations. The vacations that are full of beauty and promise until a child gets sick, the family begins bickering and the wallet and tolerance gauge are on “E”. Travel and unravel…

These are tough, but there is something even more difficult. It is something I dread, avoid, delay and downright dread each summer.

It begins in late spring when the catalogs begin arriving. I begin thumbing through and bending the pages of the ones that I consider a maybe. Wincing, I quickly by-pass the pages of the certainly not and then stare longingly at the ones I label the “I wish”. And finally, I come across a page of the “used to be”.

The “used to be” me was a size 6 or 8 that longed for the hot summer and an even hotter bikini. The body was toned and it was bronzed usually via the local tanning beds. Searching for that little suit was a fun girl’s outing. It was exciting!

And now? I am not that 6 or 8. I don’t tolerate the heat as well and I am seeking something between the look of the juniors and the Sag Harbor department. Some areas are still toned, while others need to be lifted up, held in and miraculously hidden! And bronzing? The areas that are bronzed are the ones that I can easily reach with my self tanner! And of course, I go it alone! After all, I’ll pass on anyone seeing me in the up close mirrors, 2x2 dressing rooms with yellowish overhead lighting-without a tan!

So each and every summer, the hunt begins. The summer that my oldest daughter was one, I went for the 100% Mom bathing suit. (You know the look, so I will let you imagine the bathing suit!) My darling husband with his usual sense of humor laughed and said, “You’re not ready for that yet.” “Maybe you’re not.” I laughingly replied. I wore that suit that summer never feeling quite right in it.

Another summer, I tried the flowered tankini. I liked the flowers and after several yanks and tugs, I decided it offered enough coverage and looked a bit less “Momish”. My oldest caught sight of this one and laughed about the great big flowers on it. During that summer, I wondered if the flowers were a bit too much and I never felt quite right in it either.

Several summers ago, I thought I had found the perfect suit until I saw the pictures of me in it. There’s the bikini top and skirt combo--a good look except I have to tie the top fairly tight around my neck for support! (Who needs to breathe anyway?) And let’s not forget, the loose tankini top with the short skirt in the orange and brown! Oh, the stress from this little suit!
I just never seem to get it right!

And then it happened. Our family was enjoying a bright, fun-filled day at a local beach and I saw it. I saw her. She walked the beach with a sunny smile and bucket of confidence. She left the cover-up behind. She didn’t need it. It was a bold yellow bikini-one that you had to notice. She was tanned and she was beautiful…and she had to be in her upper 60’s. I watched her as she strolled by and as she faded into the crowd as she made her way down the shore line. And then, I began to reflect.

Motherhood has changed my body, my heart, my mind and my soul. When you become a Mom, your heart gets larger to take in more love and joy than you could have ever imagined or believed existed. Your mind expands for all the filing space needed to ensure that every need from big to small is met with great detail, care and concern. And the soul has quadrupled to be able to protect and care for our children, families, friends, people in need, the Earth and environment, animals, schools and other causes-all selflessly.

And, so too, our physical appearances have been altered by Motherhood. This one, by far, being the most difficult to understand and accept. I t is often how we judge ourselves and feel measured by others.

Our physical change represents something even bigger than self perception, age ---or gravity. Maybe, just maybe, our external badge of Motherhood symbolizes the amazing and beautiful changes and growth we have experienced on the inside.

So, the woman in the little yellow suit had it right. It is not what you wear, but how you choose to wear it. All these years, I had it so wrong. It’s not that the suit that wasn’t right, it was really about how I felt about me. I have been so worried about my exterior changes that I haven’t bothered to celebrate the interior ones.

Change is cause for a celebration! So, this year I’ll try out the bikini—maybe even a bold, bright yellow one. And I will wear it proudly with a huge grin and a new confidence...because I treasure who, what and where I am on this journey of Motherhood…battle scars and all! It is the new me on the outside and in…and you can’t have one without the other.

Several years ago, I sat with the Kleenex clutched in my hand tears streaming down my cheeks as a pastor’s wife read aloud a letter she had received from her daughter on Mother’s Day. The daughter, now away at college, expressed that she now understood. She now understood and appreciated the endless rules, boundaries, adventures, questions, spankings, support and the importance of her Mom just being there.

I have long forgotten the exact wording of this letter, but I have never forgotten the emotional impact of the letter on me and the other Moms that day. I dream of receiving a hand written letter like that someday from my daughters on Mother’s Day. The accolades aren’t important. The gratitude is secondary. It is the understanding that I most seek.

So, I started thinking. What would I hope they would say? And so, I decided to write it. I needed to write it to make sure I am living it-a resource, guide and a reminder to me as a Mom. So here it is.

Dear Mom,

I remember how you were teaching me to swim and you kept secretly backing up. The first day of school that you wiped my tears and nudged me into my classroom-and hid around the corner to make sure I was okay (I knew you were there.). There was the day after a break up you insisted that I go to school. I recall the time you steadfastly refused to bring me my lunch after I had forgotten it for the fourth time.

I laugh as I remember the time my bucket full of frogs spilled out in the night and you made me catch every single one. There was the week I wanted to quit track and you insisted that I finish the season. That Spring when I was ready to ditch my dance date for “Mr. It” and you wouldn’t let me. The times I wanted to stay out just as late as some others and you said no. I remember that my rather small clothing budget didn’t allow for $60 t-shirts.

I laugh as I recall the times you placed a stuffed crab in our pants-and your own- when we were grumpy. The times you said “I am sorry” when you lost your temper. I can still see the steps you made us sit on while holding hands and saying, “Sisters forever. Sisters forever. Sisters forever. “after a fight.

You placed the computer in the kitchen, asked all those never ending questions about my friends and insisted on taking down the information of those driving me. Making me leave notes about where I was going, when I would be home and who I was with. Making me invite Suzy over when no one else liked her.

There was the punishment for arriving two minutes after curfew. There were the many thank you notes you insisted that I write. We were constantly reminded of the yes ma’ms and no sirs to adults all while looking them in the eye when speaking. You seemed to know just when I was hesitating to tell the truth and you would assure me that telling the truth is often less painful in the end than telling a lie. Making me apologize to the neighbor for picking all of her flowers and insisting on restitution-raking her entire yard. Making me cut blades of grass in the heat with scissors when you knew I had a hangover.

I remember those “boring” Saturdays where we cleaned other’s yards or delivered meals. There were the holidays you required us to shorten our lists to give bikes to other children. There was the time we bought that extra sandwich for the homeless man outside the restaurant. You insisting that part of our allowance be placed in the offering plate—and another 10% to savings. The relief I felt when you picked me and my friends up late that night with no questions asked.


Bugging me to always take a coat, have some cash on hand and to always travel with water. Dragging me to church and insisting that I go to youth group-no excuses. You encouraged me to speak up and out in family discussions, but that you and Dad had the final say. For not talking to my coach when you knew he was being unfair. For encouraging my friends to always come over to our house. You chaperoned dances and overnights and worked the high school snack stand all so you could know just what was going on in my school.. You would often pause to hear my phone conversations.

There were those fun lunches and shopping trips-where we laughed a lot and you bought very little. The times we sat alone at the table over a piece of cake pondering my heartache. I remember all the cookies we baked and crafts we made-and the laughter in between. You placed notes of inspiration in my backpack. I treasure those many shopping hours for the perfect prom dress. I remember you going with me the time I had trash detail for a punishment.

You were in the front row on awards day and in the bleachers for my sporting events. Sometimes when I asked for your advice, you offered it and sometimes you posed the hard questions back to me. Sometimes you said a great deal and others you remained silent.

For the many times, that while Dad was away, that you played both Mom and Dad. All the “Daddy” notes you helped us write and for the Daddy boxes we filled while he was away. Placing our thumbs together and yelling “team work” as we tackled yard and house work together. For encouraging us to miss him, but to also know, appreciate and understand the importance of what he was doing. For drying our tears and for making us laugh…and for the crazy adventures you dared to lead even when he wasn’t home.

There were your many dates with Dad-when you left us with a sitter. The times we asked which of us you loved the most and you would reply, “Dad comes in first-with the two of you tying for a very close second.” I remember the many notes of yours and ours that you tucked in Dad’s suitcases when he was heading out for a trip. You insisted that we hug and kiss Dad when he left for a trip-even though we didn’t want to. And then you held us while we cried when he left.

Mom, I now know it wasn’t easy. We often weren’t easy! But now I know…I really know.

All these things were for us. It wasn’t just your words. It was your actions. You rarely missed a moment to teach us something-big or small. You were and are the greatest teacher I have ever had.

You insisted we really love our family, friends and even complete strangers. Even when we were at our worst, we felt and knew we were loved-and that you believed in us. And when something great happened-you were the first we wanted to share it with.

You’ve been right there for me through it all. Moms offer a special kind of love like no other…now I understand.

I really love you Mom. Happy Mother’s Day!


Happy Mother’s Day! Take the time to listen to the song titled, A Mother’s Day, by Jim Brickman on his album Simple Things. And have your Kleenex handy….

The Note and The Hug

My oldest daughter is like me. We speak the same love language. She loves words of affirmation and gifts. We can understand each other.

My youngest is like my husband. They speak the same love language of affection. They thrive on hugs, kisses and holding hands. They understand each other.

And here’s where we collide. My oldest and I are always hard at work on notes for the other two. The other two would rather just have huge kisses planted on their cheeks or be embraced by a huge hug. Those two hug us and we then await some great words of affirmation…and there aren’t any.

It can be quite funny. Just the other day, as my husband prepared to leave for a rather lengthy trip, I was feverishly writing one card after another to hide in his luggage. My oldest joined in drawing pictures and asking me and her sister to sign them as well. The youngest was running around hugging her Dad and me the whole time. My husband held my hand on the way to the airport and offered a huge hug and a kiss as he left.

The very next day, my oldest was already preparing some welcome home signs for his return! I finally came up with an idea to have a “Daddy” box that she could fill with notes and drawings as a gift for him when he returned. She began churning out one picture and note after another-and I knew why.

My youngest, now three, spent the day in my lap, being held and holding my hand. There were lots of hugs and kisses exchanged that day between her and me. We were inseparable-and she made sure of that. She was even more affectionate than usual – and I knew why.

During bedtime that evening, my oldest was stumbling as she tried to tell me something. It took her several tries, but out it finally came.

She said, “Mom, she hugs and kisses you too much. She loves you too much.”

I hugged her and assured her that I loved them both the same. As I was leaving, she handed me a special note-just for me…and asked for another hug.

Upon tucking in the little one, she whispered, “Fun day. Good job today, Mom.” Then, those two little hands wrapped around my neck and pulled me in for a heartfelt hug and kiss.

I knew we all missed their Daddy. Our worlds had collided and it sure felt good.

Lunch and the Left-Overs

You know the story. Your child leaves his or her lunch box in the back seat of your car or worse-the garage. You receive this urgent message via cell phone in the middle of your dental visit. The message is that your child is crying hysterically because you forgot their lunch.

I am horrified. I call. The school personnel now thinks that in addition to forgetting coats, picture money, baked goods on a deadline---that I forgot food to nourish my child. I feel the need to explain that it really was in the back of my car or somewhere that she left it–they have heard that before I am sure. Please tell her I am on my way–never mind my half cleaned teeth and the planned vet visit.

I look back and see it is not in the back seat and being far from home-begin considering my options. I laugh as I think of my dear friend that recently experienced the same dilemma. Upon realizing the absence of a lunch box for her daughter, she returned to the parking lot determined. She plundered through her car and came up with several mini-cans and bags of miscellaneous food items. Arms loaded and proud, she returned inside quickly only to be met by a teacher that gratefully explained that the food drive was over last week! She laughed and her daughter had something or some things for lunch.

For fun, I begin going through my own car. Let’s see, I find a heap of old french fries lurking beneath the mats and under the seats. There’s the nicely melted, still in the wrapper candy chocolate heart from the Valentine’s party. Hmmm, there are a couple of cheeseburger tidbits in the wrappers in the trash. I find one item that I deemed miscellaneous because it skeletal remains left few cues as to what it once was! There’s the half eaten bag of Christmas cookies wedged behind the booster. I locate one sippy that I authorized as clear and the other as a biohazard due to its aromatic contents! Much to my dismay, I couldn’t pull it off!

Chick-fi-la here I come…

I flash back to my pre-child days with a clean car interior, the latest CDs all neatly tucked in a case, a skilled system for organizing all items, hanging file folders and a spare bag with all my essential emergency items. It was so clean and it was so nice. A nice little tidy life it was…

As I am driving, I glance around to see scattered art work, pieces of important paper scattered about, several homeless Happy Meal toys, paper with letters drawn in the handwriting of a three and five year old. There is a tote bag overflowing with articles and items to be read. Located in the rear view, another emergency bag stuffed with shirts and.shorts for them-and me…just in case. Kid’s CDs are scattered and loose on the passenger seat.

Water bottles, half full, are everywhere. There are hair accessories on the floor board. The windows are dirtied from little fingers chasing rain drops and drawing smiley faces. There’s my to-do list from last week with one item checked off. Receipts and old shopping lists are stuffed in the drink holders. Jackets of every sort are everywhere. There is a bottle of aspirin and some hand sanitizer rolling about.

In the back, there is a park blanket, sand toys, a large canvas cooler and a first aid kit-all just in case. There’s the one winged kite and an umbrella that droops. The activity bag hovers in the corner for those long waits at the doctor’s office. There are sand remnants from the last park visit. And of course, there is the mini toilet and toilet paper for those potty training emergencies. Yes, it is a “we have been everywhere” and “we are prepared for anything mess”. And a nice little messy life it is…we are busy and they are loved.

As Moms, we feel judged by the neatness of our homes, our clothes and our cars. In this Martha world, appearances and order seem to mean everything. But does it? When I look at all the stuff in my car, it reminds me this is what matters the most-going and growing with my daughters. The mess isn’t pretty, but it sure is fun.

And each weekend as we load the girls up for another family adventure, my adorable husband will continue to sigh as he sifts through the piles of “car-bage”. He doesn’t and never will understand the nature of this mess. And that’s ok…just don’t tell him that when I take his brand new truck for my solo outings, that I savor my dripping bean burrito while listening to Sirius radio and leave a few wrappers and notes behind-just for him!

Now I Get It

As a career woman for a number of years, I remember seeing Moms at lunch, the store, the movies, anywhere and everywhere looking like that. “The look” my friend and I would name it.

We were certain that the “look” was a top five factor in the reason for so many divorces. How could they? Why would they? We would never look like that-or them. To us, it was both tragic and a tragedy.

They seemed oblivious. The pants were too short. The old t-shirt was christened by several stains. The shoes? They had to be at least several years old-the style long gone. And make-up? None, nada, nothing-not even a hint of lip gloss! And the hair? Well, either short or tossed in a pony tail-a five minute do either way.

I would not have left my house looking like they did! I would want to look better for me, my husband and the world I would think to myself.

And then it happened. I became a Mother. I became one of them. I needed no initiation, no pieces of advice, no dress code regulations-it just happened.

A good day became one in which my clothes contained minor wrinkles and a few recent stains. A great day was one of matching socks-for me. If I was wearing make-up, matching socks, unstained and non-wrinkled clothing-I knew I had passed on to the other side…and I don’t mean the street!

Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right now became a motto for me as a Mom (as well as the bladder control medication) because if you didn’t go right then-you couldn’t go at all! Between potty breaks, diaper changes, multiple feedings, bag “packings”, coupon clipping, note writing, burping, clean up shifts, snacks and meals, there is only a small window of opportunity. See, Moms do have a choice sometimes. Look good and stay home or just go right now –as is!

So, it is not about vanity, it is about choices. Shrieks of laughter from your daughter coming down the park slide, lunch and a support session with another Mom at Chick-Fi-La, watching your daughter in her school’s parade with her hat upside down, going to the grocery store to make a special birthday cake for your husband is worth more than lip stick and a coiffed do any day.

So, I became one of them. My clothing is stained, my shirts are almost always stained, my favorite sandals have a whole in them, I can’t find my blush and my hair is almost always up…and I have never been more joyful.

Now, I get it.

Just the Usual

Alarm goes off. One eye opens-one stays closed. “So soon!” I say out loud. Hit snooze. Five more hours needed-get five more minutes courtesy of the snooze setting. Stumble out of bed to shower. Shower interrupted by toddler screaming for chocolate milk. Cat #1 is poised at the entrance of the shower demanding to be fed.

Skip shaving and run half wet to the kitchen to fix bottle #1-met by toddler #2 who has obviously gotten up in the wrong side of the bed screaming she needs to potty and I must watch. Stand there watching-cat pawing at me for food. Return to kitchen to make two bottles. Return to bathroom. Attempting to put clothes on when a shouting match erupts. Run out, still in towel, to break up the fight. Children now moaning that they are starving. Throw cinnamon toaster sticks in the toaster and remember there are wet clothes in the washer.

Place clothes in dryer and decide to start a new load as well. Run to three rooms gathering darks, still in a towel, place those in washer. Screaming for food getting louder-might as well serve them breakfast. Still in a towel, slap the sticks on a plate, round up some fruit and then search for lost milk for five minutes. Find milk, toddler #2 needs her bear and toddler #1 needs her bedroom shoes! Ten minutes later, locate both and all seems well. Turn around to see cat #1 now sitting by the food dish –hear another sound. Seems cat #2 is throwing up a hair ball. Tell cat #1 just another few minutes---clean up the mess with a paper towel.

Still in a towel, phone rings and husband adds a few more things to my to do list for the day. Hang up phone and notice the kitchen area is a mess. Unload the dishwasher, gather up an arm load of items that have been deposited in the kitchen and return them to their site of origin. While heading back to my bathroom, toddler #2 screams that she has messed up her pants. Scoop up her up, go to her room, change her and then attempt to get her dressed. After eleven minutes of battling a two year old about her attire for the day, I throw my hands up. I send toddler #1 in to assist and minutes later toddler# 2 appears smiling with multi-colored shorts, a polka dotted shirt , striped hair bow, socks pulled up to her knees and Hello Kitty shoes on the wrong feet.

Cat #1 is now attacking my feet to protest his hunger and my delay. I head back to my bathroom once more. I am drying my hair when toddler #1 comes in screaming that she has hurt herself. Still in a towel, pick her up and hug her. Hand in hand, we go to her bathroom to doctor the cut and place a band aid on it. Together, we go to her room to pick out her clothes for the day. I leave her with instructions to get dressed and brush her teeth. I head back to my bathroom once more.

My hair is complete and I am putting my make-up on when the phone rings again. It is my husband once more calling to chat because he is stuck in commuter traffic and wants to go over a few things. I explain it is a bit busy and after a short good-bye we hang up both somewhat mad. I finish my make-up and suddenly remember that I need to complete a permission slip for toddler #1 and a note for the teachers of toddler #2---and I really must mail those two bills that we keep forgetting about. I dash out to do so before I forget. I spend 8 minutes looking for those stamps that must have been moved by my husband! Sure enough, I find them in one of his spots! I place all in a neat “to go” pile by the door.

I see some items that should have been placed in the recycling bin last night. I open the garage door and while placing them in the bin, realize the litter boxes are long overdue for scooping. Still in my towel, I scoop the litter boxes. I then open the garage door and eye the paper. Still in my towel, I decide that retrieving the paper at this hour may be a bit risky. I call out to toddler #1 for help. After smelling the Hibiscus, saving an earthworm, petting cat #2, she brings the paper in.

I return to my bedroom, still in a towel, to finally get dressed. I am in my closet and turn around to see toddler #2 wearing my shoes and a pair if my underwear on her head. Toddler #1 comes around the corner with what looks like grease smeared on her face-turns out she had used 3 different tubes of lip gloss. I grab a shirt and some capris-a Mom uniform my husband always tells me. I am dressed! The cat is now holding a sign saying “Will work for food.” I promise him not much longer.

I return to the kitchen. Toddler #1 and #2 have barely touched their breakfast. I place them back in their seats and set a timer promising to whisk their food away when it beeps. I look around and notice the floor is a mess. Thinking of ants, I get the broom and dustpan out and begin sweeping. I then remember I still have a lunch to make. In the middle of all this, I throw an English muffin in the toaster and some oatmeal in the microwave for me. I then go back to making the lunch. Could have sworn I had plenty of cheese but seems two packages were molded. Thankfully, I find one piece to salvage, One remaining juice box had no straw attached-big one should work just fine. Lunch is complete! Beeper goes off and the two had finished their breakfast-finally! I sit down, set a record for eating quickly and scanning the paper. (After all, It is important to be knowledgable about current events!)

I yell for toddler #1 to assist toddler #2 in brushing teeth. Hearing a commotion, I rush in to find that they have had a water fight and that cat #1 had fallen in the toilet trying to get a sip of water. Toddler #2 is unscathed but toddler one has to change clothes. I towel dry the cat.

I return to the kitchen to load up back packs shouting to the toddlers to hurry! (Don’t want to miss the drop off line.) I remember it is show and tell today for toddler #1 and scurry to find something for the letter t. Stashing a tomato and her lunch box in her back pack, I pray all will make it there safely. I load up toddler #2’s backpacks with six pairs of underwear and some change of clothing-she is still potty training.

I glance at the clock. Seven minutes to get to school and it takes four in driving. I march both out the door with back packs in tow. We load the car-I wonder if my neighbor can hear me barking orders? Finally, they are buckled in. I get in the car and loudly exhale. I put the car in reverse, back out and head down the road.(Did I leave skid marks?) I suddenly turn around, come back up the drive way and leave the car running with them in it. I hurry back in and hurry back out. “What did you go in for Mom?” toddler one asks. “The cat needed to be fed.” I shouted as I also placed the bills in the mail box.

I got back in, buckled up and exhaled loudly once more. Placed High School Musical Two in and drove away noting a huge stain located in the middle of my shirt. I was last in the pick-up line. One teacher asked, “How is your morning going?” I replied, “Fine, thanks. Just the usual.”

The Joy "Thieves"

I had just become engaged to my dream man. Two weeks later, I gave up the title, big salary, management, road miles and a pretty nice paycheck for a much quieter, less demanding role in a marketing department of a regional bank. My priorities had shifted and I was delighted. After all these years, my real dreams were finally coming true.

Riding the high, I threw myself into wedding planning and my new job. I was so excited and so exhausted. The excitement remained but so did this overwhelming exhaustion. When my now husband found me sound asleep sitting upright, he made me promise to see my physician right away.

So I did. She took notes as I offered my self diagnosis of stress or perhaps Diabetes since it runs in my family. She ran a couple of tests and appeared minutes later. With a smile and waving the results in her hand, she said, “Congratulations, you are pregnant. That’s your diagnosis.” I turned white, almost fell out of my chair and a nurse had to lead me to the office exit because I was so dazed.

So, here I was. I was unmarried, although engaged, working in a new job at a conservative bank, planning a huge wedding to occur in March with a fiancé trying to decide if he was going to leave the Air National Guard for civilian life…and a very conservative immediate family. And this is where the story really begins…

It’s funny how things change in a moment. My sheer joy turned into sheer anxiety. I was afraid, unsure and baffled as to how to handle this all. I couldn’t even take the first step-but my fiancé (and now husband) did. We embraced and accepted these sudden changes together.

We took it in and then we built enough courage to call both sets of parents. Those were two of the most difficult calls we have ever made. A call that should be so exciting and joyful was, due to timing, a very painful one.

During this time, after many long baths and prayers, I had to forgive myself for somehow causing such chaos and uproar in so many lives. I had to pluck the hurt from my heart and replace it with the joy of a new life-and a new beginning.

And the wedding? Well, I was ready to concede to the suggestions of some friends and family to do something small, quiet and to lay low. This was the easy decision. My now husband disagreed. He said, “We will have a wedding. You deserve that. It should still be your day. No matter what...” This was the harder decision.

We opted for the latter. We moved the wedding to December and decided to have it in Charlotte instead of my hometown. And so, the date was set for December 7th. He and I began the planning for a 150 guest wedding that was now 6 weeks away!

Now, not only is our anniversary associated with D-Day –it is now associated with one of the largest and most destructive ice storms to ever hit the Charlotte area!

The wedding is a story in itself. Several bridesmaids, due to the weather, were unable to make it for the Luncheon. (Miraculously, all made if for the wedding!) Our own church had no power and a tree across the front complete with downed power lines. A group of dear friends located another church in downtown eager to help and host our ceremony. Flowers and decorations for the ceremony would be donated by an anonymous friend.

My fiancé and I battled the icy roads to pick up my wedding dress—and a man hearing our story even offered to drive it to the hotel so my husband wouldn’t see it! I managed to find one nail place open that could do my nails and my hair salon was the only one on the block that still had power!

We had our rehearsal in the hotel lobby (since our church had no power). During such, an unfortunate homeless man had a seizure. We watched as an ambulance arrived and took him away. Thankfully, our dinner went off without a hitch since the restaurant was close and had electricity!

There were family disagreements. There were some not so nice comments offered by others. The majority offered hugs of understanding and support---and pitched in wherever and whenever they could. Even strangers amazed us with their sincere kindness.

There were numerous plan changes that were executed by my husband and with the gracious help of so many friends. Since our house had no electricity, I spent one night in my in-law’s suite and the next night bunked with a friend in her room.

And the day of my wedding? Well, my stylist went for a much too “mod” look for me and after two attempts, I arrived to the church an hour late. Two friends met me in the road, bridesmaids helped me to quickly dress, and I laughingly handed off an extra tiara to a little girl that wanted to see “the bride”.

One bridesmaid asked, “How have you handled this so well? Anyone could’ve and should’ve fallen apart through all of this…” I remarked, “I won’t let anyone or anything steal our joy. I just can’t…I just won’t…I refuse.”

I wasn’t a hero. I just chose to focus on what really mattered. I loved him and he loved me. We just wanted to be married. For me, it was that simple.

The rest was beautiful. We had 135 family and friends that had braved the worst of weather conditions to be there for us. Even though my dress was designed for a spring wedding (sleeveless), it was stunning and I was never, ever cold. The church, while unfamiliar, felt strangely comfortable. At the last minute, we opted to walk with our wedding party through downtown to the reception. We danced, laughed, cried and celebrated.

Our church wedding coordinator and friends remarked it was one of the most beloved and beautiful weddings ever because we handled it with such grace and humor. Most importantly, they said, we had steadfastly refused to enable the many, many challenges to stand in the way of our love and joy.

It was and still is the best day of my life. The ride sure was bumpy, but all my real dreams came true that very joyful day. I had an amazing husband and a healthy baby on the way. I finally had a family of my very own.

Joy doesn’t always arrive in a neatly bundled package on your doorstep on a clear, sunny day at noon. Sometimes, you have to forgive yourself or others, clear the clutter, leap over the obstacles and search far and near-or even wait- before you find it or it finds you.

As Mothers, we are faced with so many “joy” thieves. Maybe it’s the frantic taxi schedule getting your kids from one thing to the next. It could be the demanding and negative friend that depletes your energy and time. Maybe your husband refuses to “co-parent”. You may be exasperated completing those many tasks from all those committees and organizations. Maybe you are trying to meet needs both big and small as a caregiver to someone in your family. It could be that you work outside the home and feel obligated to have the cleanest home on the block. Maybe you spend too much, eat too much or just do too much.

As Mothers, we are wired to take care of others. No where does it say we must take care of everyone and everything, but we try. Our carts become so overloaded with these rocks, that when we get to the top of the hill, we’re exhausted and regret not taking the opportunity to stop along the way, to think and to enjoy the scenery and surprises. .

Mothers, lighten your carts! Sit on your hands (say no) to avoid more “busy-ness”. Decide what’s most important in your personal and family life. Throw out a rock or two! You can continue to be overwhelmed, frustrated, tired and maybe even angry—or you can fall in love with the journey and find real joy!

So often, it is easier to fore go our own joy in lieu of making decisions that may affect others in our lives. I challenge you to make the hard decisions and find the joy in your own journey. So, clear the clutter, bound over the obstacles, look and wait. Stand firm and refuse to let anyone or anything ever, ever steal your joy.

The Simple Things

My husband squirms, shudders and shakes his ahead. “Not again!” he exclaims. As he grabs the remote, I hear him say, “Why do they do that to us? As if we need more pressure…”

I glance over just to see the end of a Jeweler’s ad. You know the one! Pictured is the perfect couple with the husband giving his wife the perfect ring in the perfectly wrapped package at the precisely timed moment—all for Valentine’s Day. She opens the gifts, her eyes sparkle and she smiles. The man is smiling too—out of relief, stress and the knowledge that this gift has earned him BIG points!

And if the husbands miss those ads, there are all the ads for cards, chocolates, flowers and dining specials at every turn! I have often wondered how any breathing man delayed the prompt to buy big and buy ahead with these mega-media reminders and our subtle hints! (And how so many end up at Walgreen’s on February 14th at 5:15pm!)

While they are sweating, we wait and wait. Will he plan a grand evening out or will he be at Walgreen’s buying a last minute card and the left over box of chocolates? Will we be elated, disappointed or just down right mad? After all, this IS the day of love right? This ONE day expresses just how much they care about us-or does it?

Well, here is where you are awaiting my grand story! You can exhale and feel relieved because there isn’t one. My beloved husband has planned some memorable celebrations, given me some beautiful gifts and orchestrated some wonderful evenings out, but for Valentine’s Day he keeps it simple…because he understands me.

You see, my love language is all about time and simple thoughtfulness. Sometimes I think the big gifts are the easy way out. Plan ahead, be creative, give me something different-and from the heart!

In the past, my husband has made me a home made cake, planted a rose bush, cooked dinner, made cards, planned picnics and planned a great evening out two days after Valentine’s Day so we could avoid the crowds!

Since I know you are dying to ask about the most memorable simple gift, I will tell you! Are you ready? It was an installed cat door. Yes, you heard it right- a cat door. We were dating and both living in Charlotte. Since I had two cats and their litter box was located in the garage, I simply left my kitchen door open day and night so they could make it back and forth! He mentioned that doing such wasn’t safe and was adding to my electrical bill.

Returning home that evening, I pulled into the garage to see a whole in this door with a note saying, “Hope you like this…work in progress.” Turns out, he didn’t realize it was a steel door and it was a bit more difficult than he anticipated. After gathering some better tools and about a week later, the cats and I had a much needed and wonderful cat door!

And ok, there have been great gifts along the way, but the funny thing is -I really remember these moments and those simple acts of love - not the big gifts! It is the small things that make me feel really, really appreciated and loved. It is what I need.

So, simple things, time and thoughtfulness are important and essential to me. My value and awareness of these should make me a great and astute Mother at doing such for my own daughters, right?

Well, somewhere between the massive loads of laundry, chores, scheduling, cooking, cleaning and organizing, their emotional needs often get pushed aside. A sort of frenzy takes over as I try to complete the growing list of chores and to do lists. As I become busy and stressed, they increase their whining and begging. Then, out comes the “not now”, “I’m busy” and “maybe later” to their pleas to just play.

They act up and out to get my attention. They have even cupped my face in their hands to get me to hear them. My oldest will even say, “I need you to spend some time with me, Mom.” It breaks my heart because I know and I fully understand this need. They need me. They need my time. They need the simple things.

So, every once in a while I let the laundry loads grow, the return phone calls are delayed again and shove cleaning aside. We take time out to play soccer in the yard. We bake cookies. We draw with chalk in the driveway. We go on Mom and daughter dates. We play a game. We read. We take home made sandwiches to the park in a basket complete with a picnic blanket. We go to the Target $1 bin or to the Dollar Store with a dollar bill each. We take a walk. We watch a movie. We lay in bed and talk. We paint plates at the ceramic store. We raid the craft bin here at home. We ride bikes. We write notes and draw pictures. We make dinner together. (Yes, four year olds can make salads!).

Oh, the simple things. We have such great fun during these times! They have my undivided attention and they open up about all sorts of topics! We giggle, play and even I feel like a child again sometimes. I see the world differently through their eyes. These brief and shared moments make for happy hearts-theirs and mine.

I know my daughters won’t remember the toys they received, all the great adventures we have had, the places we have lived and visited, the friends that have come and gone and all the joys and sorrow that have passed us by, but they will remember the small moments, simple things and how it made them feel.

As Cesare Pavese said, “We do not remember days, we remember moments.” These brief moments together will become the cherished memories of their childhood.



So, as I end this writing, their quiet time is coming to an end. I have quite a list of to-dos not yet done, a load of laundry that needs to be folded, a few remaining follow-up calls and dinner that needs to be started, but we are heading outside to play some soccer on this bright and beautiful day. Why don’t you join us?

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Lisa Black
e3black@aol.com