It's the Little Things

This winter's first snow waited to fall until December, a small reason to celebrate in our house. As moms, we tend to find delight in what others might consider menial. For example, I was able to avoid taking any of our four children shopping for new snow boots. At the exact moment when they told me all of the boots in the house were going to fit, I began to sing. Yes, sing. I made up some silly verses about boots and growing kids and swayed throughout our home while snow fell upon our yard. I had been dragging these children shopping for new boots for well over a decade, and this year, for the first time ever, I was off the hook...a small feat!

As the three younger ones piled on their snow clothes to gleefully charge onto the pristine blanket of white, I laughed at myself for how happy I was at this humble moment in my life. I began to think about other times parents feel joy and success at what seems minute on the surface. I don't always burst out in song, but I do tend to internally reflect. Sometimes, I let the kids know my heart is being tugged, but they don't usually understand my sentimentality. Other times, I'm quiet and hope I'll remember the fuzzy feelings.

Looking back on the days when our little guy's boots and the snow were as high as his knees. 

We have one son who is still interested in reading aloud to us. He's growing up quickly, so his willingness will end soon, I'm sure. When he lets us into that world, it is important. When my older ones talk to us about music or history, I try not to act too excited to turn them off from the conversation, but inside, I'm hugely honored to be included.


My brother and his wife have five children of their own who live two hours from us. When the cousins are able to spend time together, they never want it to end. For so many years, my sister-in-law and I were nursing, changing diapers and chasing babies. We were exhausted for what seemed like an eternity. This Thanksgiving, we realized we had finally reached a point when the kids could be out of sight and out of mind. 

No more toddlers. 

No more spills. 

No more fear of what might happen if we turned our backs. 

So, she and I let them all hang out in the basement while we cooked together and enjoyed adult conversation. The kids made memories and we relaxed. Success!

Relishing little moments does not have to involve silly songs or quiet reflections. One of my favorite ways to celebrate anything is with this delectable winter champagne. Try it for your next cocktail party or brunch. It's so simple, you'll never have another party without it.

Festive Cranberry Champagne Punch

1 or 2 bottles of champagne
1 bottle of lemon-lime pop (2 liters)
1 can of frozen cranberry juice concentrate, thawed
frozen cranberries, for garnish

Mix all of these ingredients in a punch bowl or glass beverage dispenser just before serving. 

Cheers for a sweet and successful 2017!

Heading Back to School is Bittersweet

Summer vacation means twelve consecutive, unpredictable weeks at home with our children. For many parents, September promises routine and a cleaner, quieter home. Some moms gleefully push those kids out the door come the first day of school. However, for others, the back to school bell can ring a bittersweet sound.

Although a mom appreciates the extra perks of having her children in someone else's care, spending so many hours alone can cause a previously occupied mother's mind to wander. Add morning routines, homework, extracurriculars and bedtimes, and new stresses are created for both parents and children.

With our charming Michigan summer coming to a close, and the first day of school looming, I find myself clinging to small moments with my four children. I hug them longer, pay closer attention to what they say and stare more intently at their faces. They are growing and changing faster than any parent can comprehend. These moments I know are fleeting, and somehow, I don't always find time for them during the hustle and bustle of the school year. My favorites are the long evenings, when the sun doesn't seem to want to settle behind the clouds. With the extended light, our little rascals become night owls, and they harbor themselves in our basement for an indoor sibling camp-out.

"Mom, will you make us some popcorn?" 


At 9:30 on a school night, they already would be in their bedrooms, but during summer, most anything goes. I take two bags of hot and steamy freshly popped corn downstairs to my giggling goofballs. They are watching Cake Wars or America's Got Talent together, with blankets, pillows and stuffed animals taking up every inch of carpet and couch. I'm not claiming we don't hear any arguing. (Obviously, it happens, which is why we love that our basement has a door.) On the nights when they keep their spats to a minimum, the four eventually fall asleep with their legs intertwined with one another, their growing arms sprawled across someone else's face.

When September comes, we only allow basement slumber parties on occasional weekends. Something about the freedom of summer makes me so much more relaxed. While I am looking forward to many aspects of this school year, I am aware of the blessings I'll miss when they are not in my home throughout the day:

The sounds of their yawns

My teenager asking me about a word in a book he's reading

Baking buddies in the kitchen

All of us meeting their dad for his lunch break

Always having somebody to play a game with me

When the youngest says, "Mom, can you cover me with a blanket?"

Rainy days spent in pajamas, having pancakes for lunch

Day trips when I sing the wrong lyrics to current songs and make everyone laugh

When my little one needs me to attach tiny arms on his Lego people

Park dates, beach parties, Froyo, bike riding, water balloon fights and blueberry donuts

Most moms I know switch between feeling blissful and blue on the first day of school. Whether you are jumping for joy or crying in your Cheerios, remember that those stinkers always come back home to their mamas.


This post originally appeared in my featured column, "Perspectives," in the September issues of Lakeside Living and South Shore Neighbors Magazines.

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20 Ways Moms Really Spend their Summers

Expectations, entertainment, envy. Modern moms feel a lot of pressure to create a balanced summer experience for their children. A charming and witty post is circling the web which beautifully mocks what a perfect summer might look like according to the typical Facebook or Instagram user.


My friends have challenged me to create a list of what real moms are really doing during summer vacation.


1. Alternating between feeling guilty for how much time the kids are spending on their devices and appreciating the peace it brings.


2. Waking up early to make coffee and WISHING that everyone else stays asleep so you can enjoy the first few sips alone.


3. Thinking about adopting the enormous spider outside the kitchen window as a pet. He's been there for weeks and has been a part of all family meals. It's easier than going outside to kill him and clean up his massive web.


4. Spending large chunks of time telling the children you will not help them find their goggles one more time, because you have already done your job in purchasing them, and it is not your responsibility to manage their whereabouts. Helping anyway.


5. Offering to take your kids to parks, zoos and beaches, only to have them whine that it's too hot, too cold, or the best yet, "We go to too many parks."


6. Explaining ticks to your six-year-old and answering his numerous questions about the blood-sucking arachnids.


7. Tiptoeing around the topic of school (teachers, supplies, friends) for fear of causing undue stress or anxiety, or subconsciously making summer disappear.


8. Feeling proud for remembering to take the giant umbrella to the beach, but then realizing you forgot its pole in the garage. Bye-bye beach shade.


9. Taking up to a month in advance to plan a gathering with a friend, because nobody's life is simple.


10. Breaking up sibling squabbles. Repeating. Repeating. Repeating.


11. Wondering, How can it be August, but we haven't grilled out once? Smelling a neighbor's sizzling steaks and begrudging your husband for not helping make dinner.


12. Finding a shriveled, shrunken blueberry on the family room floor, which is many rooms away from the kitchen, and where no one is allowed to eat.


13. Nagging your children to go outside to play by saying, "This awesome weather will not last forever. Soon enough, everything will be covered in snow, and you'll be wishing you could run around in the sprinklers. Now get out!"


14. Basking in success when they venture out the door.


15. Sulking in defeat when they return six minutes later.


16. Avoiding the kids' toy room, because it would mean facing the mess they have made when they should have been playing outside.


17. Worrying about sunburns, drowning, kidnappings, bike accidents and allergic reactions, while encouraging your children to be more independent, but to stop growing up...all at the same time.


18. Having plans to attend the free concert in the park for date night, but then realizing time spent on the couch, with a bowl of Cheetos between you, can be even better.


19. Hearing and trying to ignore the snack discussion: "Can I have a snack? When can I have a snack? What can I have for a snack? That's not a real snack. I don't want fruit for a snack. Why? Why? Why?"


20. Driving. Enough said.


I love summer! I wanted it to come. I don't want it to end. It doesn't mean I don't go a little nutso in the thick of it. What I've learned through my almost fourteen years as a mom is that The Summer Bucket List, which we used to create when the kids were younger, became a tool of doom. Now, we wing it, and it works for us.


How does your family handle summer? Structure? Fly by the seat of your pants? Let's share and add some more ways your family really spends your summer!

On top of a sand dune for our anniversary. I needed Dramamine to ride in the giant, old dune buggy. The sand was blazing hot and burning my pale feet. Yet, I'm smiling for the photo. You know the drill. It's a split second in time. Nobody's life is always this beautiful.     

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No Mom is Perfect!

The latest film to send women to the theaters in droves, Bad Moms, will surely bombard the mom-blog world in the next weeks. I won't review or spoil the film, but I will encourage you to take time away from your families to laugh like you haven't laughed in years. Grab some girlfriends, grab some contraband Goobers, and go out for some feisty fun.


What the movie is meant to do is promote feelings of empowerment for modern mothers. The kind of empowerment I have been dishing on this blog since day one. Parenting is hard. Being a mom is never the same two years in a row...two days in a row...two minutes in a row. We need a village of other women to support us; to drag us off the couch when we want to give up; to keep us from hiding from our kids, responsibilities and husbands. Every mom feels it. Nobody talks about it.


We all have encounters with other women who seem ready to doubt or judge the quality of our momness. A stranger at a party called me a "...sigh...Supermom" in a snide way recently, which irritated me. However, I was able to blow her off because she was only basing it on the number of children I have. What hurts is when friends do it to each other. Why are women always the worst offenders? Women in my circle often remark on my perfection, while demeaning me for it in the same sentence. My perfect baking. My perfect school involvement. My perfect hospitality. 


Those areas of my life are where I might appear to excel because it's how I can show how deeply I care about somebody. I cook and bake for others because it's my hobby, and I love to see the smiles on their faces when they enjoy my treats. That's all. It's not to prove I'm better. It's not to say I don't buy things from stores. I absolutely do! All.The.Time.


I involve myself in school, community and church because I am an extrovert. I am easily bored sitting at home or on the sidelines. I like to help and lead, and for some reason, others tend to want to join when I'm there. I remember what life was like to be a new mom, or new in town, or unable to speak a language, so I jump in to help when I know those needs exist. My children's ages are spread in such a way that I seem to be everywhere all the time and know a lot. It is because I boldly insert myself and ask a lot of questions (hello, extrovert). I like to be aware. Then, I share what I learned to make the path easier for those after me. I do not seek to prove that I know more or am more important. It is simply because I care and hope other parents will find the information useful. As a teacher at heart, I am highly invested in the well-being of all students of our school district, not merely my own. 


As far as my party planning and hospitality goes: I just like parties, because I like people. I love connections. I love friendships. I love smiling and laughing and food. I love kids playing. I love others coming together because, for some reason, they were meant to be in that exact space at that exact moment.


What others may not see is that I would never want to appear unapproachable or intimidating. Truth time: it hurts my feelings when someone says something snotty about me being perfect. I feel jilted when a person whines that I brought homemade treats...again. I'm crushed when another mom says, "Oh jeez, you're in charge...again?" My life is full of imperfection. Full of failure. Full of reasons I need solid, genuine friends in my life. 


It's likely that most of the so-called Supermoms, Perfect Moms and Pinterest Moms you think you know would really appreciate it if you stopped accusing them of being something they're not. Everyone is doing her best to keep her kids away from the next big catastrophe. I'm happy to share my struggles with you. It makes life more fun and more real. I love it when other women share their battles, too. 



Let's review a few areas of my life where I proudly DO NOT excel:



most forms of housekeeping, planning vacations, apologizing to my husband in a timely fashion, knowing what a teenager wants, knowing what a tween wants, knowing what little boys want, returning library books on time, remembering to dry the laundry before it stinks, cooking Puerto Rican food, maintaining my cool when my kids nag me to leave someplace when I am talking to a friend, packing the car for a trip, packing my suitcase, packing my grocery cart to make sure it doesn't overflow before I finish, walking without tripping or bumping into walls, telling short stories, physics, Pinterest and selfies.

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Does Motherhood Make Time Move Faster?

Once a week, I receive a notice to buy tickets for my twenty-year high school reunion. I blink my eyes and shake my head in disbelief. Was it really twenty springs ago that I fell sick with senioritis while shopping for a prom dress, with no way to know that exactly twelve months later I would meet my future husband?

What were you doing in 1996? Were you an energetic student on the cusp of adulthood? Were you an exhausted new mom, thankful that the grunge trend helped you hide your unwashed hair? Were you valiantly serving our country? Were you a parent, fearful of the future of computers? Were you already a grandparent, so twenty years seems like mere seconds compared to the number of years you have lived?
 

Mothers hear this saying often, "The days are long, but the years are short." It surely is a fitting mantra for the early years of motherhood, when our lives revolve around feedings and diapers and naps on repeat. We ache for a break in the monotony and a confidant who isn't a babbling drool monster. Then suddenly, smack in the middle of the kids hitting elementary school, a drastic shift occurs. Our days become short and the years even shorter.

I graduated from my Indiana high school twenty years ago, and now our oldest child is about to become a high school student. It does not seem possible that in five years, our son will be the same age that I was when I fell in love with his dad. It's as if that day was yesterday, except yesterday I was a PTA mom with four kids and a husband in the middle of a bathroom remodel, who still hadn't caught up on Downton Abbey. Recently, I shared this strange feeling with my own mom. She laughed and told me that while she knows she's a grandmother and her children are in their thirties, she still feels like she's only forty.

So much can happen in a life over twenty years. What have you done in twenty years? Are you surprised? Has it all been worth it?

As quickly as time passes, I should purchase my tickets to the reunion before it's too late.

 

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Motherhood with a Teenager Reveals Blessings

Let me know if you've heard these phrases: "Just wait until they start talking back to you. Just wait until all they do is sleep all day. Just wait until they eat everything in sight. Just wait until they're taller than you. Just wait until they're teenagers. Just wait..."


When a fellow mom prefaces advice with those two words, "Just Wait," I want to smack her a little. I hear it quite often, because gobs of people have lived through motherhood longer than I have. The truth is, no matter what stage of motherhood a woman is in, her future shouldn't be discussed with fear and annoyance. Her present is hard enough as it is, so how does it help anybody to dismiss what's happening now and indicate it's only going to be worse someday?


We have all heard horror stories about the teen years. We shouldn't trek blindly or naively without being prepared for the worst, because some of the worst is surely going to happen. Our paths will be tumultuous. The terrain will be rocky. We'll cross wide, gaping holes without bridges. Slippery hills and uneven ground will bring us to a halt at times. We know. Veteran moms don't need to warn us. We were teenagers not so long ago ourselves. Our husbands were boys, and we were girls. If we really tried, we could recall all of our crazy stunts and the poor decisions we made as teens. We can't believe our own parents survived. We are baffled that we were never kidnapped or lost or worse. We know, Just-Wait-Warning moms. We know what's coming.


As we sit around waiting for the worst, we can try to appreciate the best of our teens. These curious creatures are still the same babies who once were merely a dream to a newlywed couple. We can still see the glow in their eyes and dimples in their cheeks reminiscent of the toddler years. Their sense of humor has wittily evolved from that of the second-grader who loved the tired old Knock-Knock Orange and Banana joke.


Bits of the worst may be in our future, but for now, I'd like to share how I learned to appreciate the wonder of my present teen while picking up dirty laundry.


Laundry is an issue for our family...you know this because I've told you how my system moved from highly inefficient to simply okay. Six people create many loads of laundry, so each child has a hamper in his or her room. Our rule for the past year has been that each child should be placing dirty clothing into said hamper. It sounds simple, yet they do not always do it. Many days, I find clothes and pajamas behind the bathroom door, draping down the stairs, next to the basement couch and in every mom's favorite place: on the floor right next to the hamper. Right next to it! Many times I've been infuriated by this practice. I've beckoned for children to run up two flights of stairs, for the sole purpose of reminding them of proper laundry rules and insisting they follow the rules right then and there. I've cursed under my breath for the inconvenience. I've thrown my hands up in the air, wondering, Will they ever do it the right way? My way?


Some days, I am surprised when I find hampers full of clothes and floors cleared of the heaps of socks and undies. I do love and appreciate those days.


It was one typical day when the clothes were lying beside the hamper when I woke up to my teenage blessing. The sun was shining through the windows, which is pretty rare in our town during winter, so I was in an especially inspired mood. Everybody was at school and work. My Broadway Showtunes Pandora station was cranked up to a volume nobody in the house but I could tolerate. Seeing the jumbled mess of clothes next to the hamper, when nobody but I was home to move them, jolted me.


For a split second, I grumpily thought I should leave them on the floor until school was over, then make darn sure the offending child placed them where they belonged. Then, my mama heart softened as I realized that I will not be cleaning up clothes forever. Someday, there will be nothing left on the floor. The kids will be grown and gone, and I'll long for the days when I could pick up after my babies. My kids. My teens.


There will be no toothpaste on the sink. No unmade beds. No Lego pieces. No evidence of children...anywhere.


I started to cry. I began to mourn the years that are slipping away from us as fast as rockets, and I slowly and deliberately picked up each piece of smelly clothing from the floor. As I dropped them into the hamper, I said these words out loud:


"Thank you for sending me these children. Thank you for keeping them healthy. Thank you for everything we have, even the messes. Please keep them safe. Please keep them healthy. Please help them know how much I love being their mom. Please keep them mine."


As we learn to navigate our new roles as moms to teens, I hope we'll be strong in remembering how much these kiddos still need us. They aren't grown up yet. They forget. They are tired. They want to hang out with friends or read or watch their favorite shows. They're kids. They probably loathe laundry as much as we do.

 

One of my best friends gave me a cherished recipe, with these words of words of wisdom taped to the back of the card:

How Our Family Thrived by Being Less Busy

Last fall, I confessed the embarrassing disarray in which the kids and I kept our family car. The self-explanatory term, Junk Bus, confirmed many hurried families also understand our situation. We spend massive chunks of time in our vehicles.

Even if children ride in an actual bus to school, modern parents are transporting their kids by car/van/SUV to what can feel like an endless collection of activities. Night after night. Week after week. Season after season.

Kids pile into the car after school, with zero time for a leisurely chat at the kitchen table over animal crackers and milk. What's the solution? Portable bites for the ride to the latest sport or lesson or class. What's the result? A messy car. Wrappers left in every crevice. Drinks spilled. Extra shoes and jackets tossed to the floor. Homework papers strewn throughout the seats.

By the end of the evening, we're rushing into the house for showers, stories and bed. Who has the extra two seconds it takes to whisk the trash from the car? At least that was my excuse.

What would happen to our cars, and thus our lives, if we stopped all the running?

By happenstance, our family's schedule took a much needed break in 2015. Starting in May, the activities which used to keep us bouncing around town disappeared. At first, the extra time at home felt oddly wrong. All of my friends were at ball fields several nights a week, but for the first time in eight years, we were not. Our spring was so low key, that after a month of having dinner at a reasonable time, I was addicted to our family being home together. As summer approached, I strived to keep up our pattern of peace. I scheduled almost nothing for the kids to do. Swimming lessons and one football camp were the only plans on our calendar. From the mom who normally signs each child up for at least three events every summer, it was a drastic shift toward simplicity.

Spending days and nights without a schedule was liberating…for the children and their chauffeur. The car remained cleaner, while our yard became dotted with the signs of summer: sidewalk chalk, jump ropes, bubble wands and an array of balls, bikes and scooters. Instead of my bossy barks and their tired whines, the sounds of laughing kids filled the steamy Michigan air.

I dreaded the day when our carefree summer would come to a close. School starting would mean more duties, responsibilities and timelines. What would happen to our lazy nights together? Could we handle the chaos again? An injury sidelined our one child who was going to play football, so our fall also became wide open. Here we were, in new territory once again, experiencing our first fall without any sports or classes. Mark had been coaching every year since 2008, but with football over, he was home. The kids were home. We were all home.

While I don't expect this trend to continue indefinitely, because our kids will eventually choose to participate again, I am relishing in it while I can. The frantic lifestyle is so common, that stepping out of it may seem impossible. Until this year, I wouldn't have considered this break necessary, but now I realize how invaluable it was.

Resting on my nightstand is one of the year's hottest best sellers, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. Japanese organizing expert, Marie Kondo, teaches readers to purge their homes of possessions to achieve happiness. Why hold on to a stretched out t-shirt from college that is only taking up space in your pajama drawer? Toss it! It is just as simple to apply her methods to our personal schedules.

We can ask Kondo's famous question of anything we might set our families up to do. 

"Does it spark joy?"

If the answer is no, then we can  and should discard it from our lives. We may be tempted to think that all of these filler events in our days are joyful and continue to do them out of habit or guilt. If we look a bit more closely, we may notice that all of the activities which keep us away from home might be stirring up anything but joy. Are we spending too much money? Keeping the kids out too late? Not enjoying enough family dinners? Putting too many miles on the car? Causing tears, anxiety, stress and burn-out?

The solution is so simple. Erase it. Delete it. Change our life!

My calendar for 2016 is fresh and blank and features photos of cows doing yoga. I'm going to be conscious this year to fill the squares with what matters to my children, my husband and me. What will you do this year that sparks joy?

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