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!

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?

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

I Miss You...Here's Where I've Been

Peer pressure is some serious business. We all feel it. Well, maybe you don't anymore...now that you're a grown-up. If you don't feel peer pressure as an adult, I'm jealous. Look, there's more proof that I feel it. I feel pressure to be exempt from pressure.


Several months ago, I read these words across my computer screen:


"You haven't posted anything new in 11 days. 221 people who like your page want to hear from you."


What?


Who did that person think she was telling me to come up with something interesting/endearing/clickworthy to share with my likers?


Well, it wasn't even a person. It was Facebook. A computer generated message, coded to pop up as a reminder for business owners and bloggers to keep their pages active, happening and vibrant. To keep those clickers clicking.


A quiet, inconspicuous nudge. Come on, say something. Anything. Bring someone here...to this page...your page. They want you. We want you. Do it.


I read the words, felt the pressure and caved. I typed. I created something for my likers to like. I did what I felt I was meant to do.


One of my dear friends straight out told me, "That's a lot of pressure from Facebook." I LOL-ed and smiley-face emoji-ed at her brilliant comment. (I don't think those are verbs yet, but I'm typing them anyway. I'm screwing teacher pressure tonight).


Life continued as it had for the previous many months. Eleven days between posts had once been a mighty number, so I squeezed it back to three. However, eventually, that high of eleven became nineteen. Nineteen morphed into thirty-three. This fall, Facebook made sure to warn me that my likers had gone a painstakingly 45 days without seeing anything new from their wise and witty Mama (Who Loves You and Chocolate, Too). What had I done? What was I thinking, not writing and sharing and blogging and posting? Where was I?


Don't I wish that I could tell you that I was living the easy life as all four of my kids were at school?


That I was kicking up my heels (FINALLY) and eating all those bon-bons I have been missing out on all these years?


That the breakfast dishes were cleaned up as soon as the kids hopped on the bus, in time for me to work out before my long, hot bubble bath?


That my husband and I were sneaking away for long lunches every day?


That I planned, shopped for and cooked wholesome and thoughtful meals, which were ready at 5:30 each night?


That the children did their homework without hesitation or fuss?


That they happily went upstairs after family book or game time, eagerly brushing teeth and taking showers, allowing us to relax with Jimmy Fallon and our unhealthy addiction to the new Netflix series Narcos?


Don't I freaking wish? If only that were how life was. For a real look into our lives, go ahead and reread those few sentences, knowing that none of it ever happened. In fact, it was the exact opposite...all the time. Our life was the typical, hectic, back to school mess with four kids, plus several medical disasters thrown into the mix. I was forced to give up running and yoga after a hefty injury to my ankle. Yes, again. My feet suck. I miss it more than I could have ever imagined.


Two of the children were/are being treated for some lasting health issues. For one of them, we met with or consulted with nine physicians and specialists. For the other, we are still not to the bottom of the problem and are seeking a second opinion after months of pain and therapy. One of the boys underwent ear tubes surgery, which had to be postponed once during his first medical crisis. Also, it wouldn't be Halloweentime without the family picking up the icky germs. Each morning, as I struggled to open my puffy eyes from another sleepless night, when I thought nothing more could go wrong for us, something always did.


Usually, I only complain to my closest friends, my mom and Mark. They hear the worst from me, They are my people. They know my scary stuff. Even if it had been physically possible for me to sit at my keyboard without crying or falling asleep, you guys didn't want to hear about all my drama. My stress. My major mama worries.


Or did you?


Lately, people have been asking where I've been. This morning, my friend hesitantly, yet dearly, confessed to me that she missed my blog. She told me that she wanted me to know, but she didn't want me to feel undue pressure to come back. It made me smile inside to know that my words have affected her and the others who expressed similar sentiments. I've wanted to be here for so long...I've missed you all. You know how much I hate to admit I can't do something, but spending part of nearly every day in a medical office Is.Just.So.Darn.Draining.


So, here's what I'm thinking. I'm thinking about peer pressure. The good kind. Did you know there is a good kind? I didn't need Facebook to toss meaningless numbers at me to start me writing again. Facebook pressure has proven to be ineffective on me the past several months. Thank goodness. I'm thinking that I needed to hear from just the right number of people, the exact number of times, that I should come back to my blog. Thank you, Sweet Smiling Sarah, for pressing me.


When I told you in early October that I was cutting back on blogging, I had no idea what was ahead. I was only a mom hoping to figure out her place in a day with no children. I was going to recharge myself to be the best mom ever! I imagined I would take time away from the keys to plan satisfying meals and take steamy baths and meet Mark for relaxing lunches and go on daytime runs and have coffee chats with friends and volunteer at both schools and paint everyone's rooms and magically tidy the whole house using the KonMari Method. If life ever really gets there, I'll be sure to tell you.


For now, I'll tell you that the life of every mom you know is probably overwhelmingly messy. She'll smile and like your pictures and click "maybe" on your invites, hoping that someday her life will calm down enough for her to actually finish that book on her nightstand. Don't give up on her. I won't give up on you either. Send me a note. Post on my page. Let's start talking about what is important to you.


Are you that messy mom feeling pressure? It's okay. I feel it, too, and people call me Supermom. Whatever.

MOUNTAINS. BABIES. PEACE.
 

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

What ARE You Going to Do All Day?

My family is in the midst of a long and lazy summer. I find myself desperately clinging to the carefree nights, more tightly than I've ever clung to them in the past. Every summer before now, I have been ready for the kids to return to school. I've been anxious for their routines to kick in and for them to experience time and space away from one another.

This year is different, because a dramatic change is coming. My main role in this life I have built for the past thirteen years will shift. I will be a stay-at-home-mom, although no children will be staying home with me. When people find out I'm suddenly going to be all alone, every day of the week, they curiously stare at me and probe for answers.


Naturally, first comes, "So, are you going to back work?"


When I tell them that I'm not going to work yet, they fire back with, "Well, then what are you going to do all day?"


While a minor identity crisis may be looming for me, I'm not going to focus on it quite yet. I do have plans. Plans I'm going to take my time in navigating. Plans for all of the tasks around our house which have been placed on hold while forty sticky fingers and eight growing feet have been making this place their home.


Projects I should try to complete once the children go back to school:


Paint. All of the kids chose new colors for their rooms, which we had planned to do over summer break. It didn't happen. I've been wanting to paint our bathroom and bedroom since we moved in 5 years ago. The family room is due, as is our dining room and entry way. Okay, I'm just going to say paint...a lot.


Hang up pictures: I'll start in the kitchen, since we removed them in April 2014 to paint that room, and they are still sitting next to the washing machine, waiting.


Organize the linen closet: I need to develop a better lay-out so that balled-up fitted sheets don't jump out at us every time we open the door.


Purge my personal junk drawer: If I move all of the old high school photos to a box in the basement,
I'll be able to create a functional jewelry drawer. My current jewelry system is a disgrace.


Clean closets: Every mom could spend a lifetime making closets more efficient or pleasing to the eye. However, my side of our shared husband/wife closet is admittedly the worst in the house. I end up wearing the same five items, because I don't want to disturb my piles.


Restructure the toys: When we remodeled our basement a few months ago, we needed to move all of the toys into a storage area. The only toys we kept out were the air hockey table and the kids' Legos. Everything else has been crammed, shoved and smashed into a room, which, thankfully has a door. Many of you would say, "If you haven't used them in so many months, the kids don't miss or need them, so just let the items go." I, too, believe in this theory, but first, we must make our way through the walls of toys before we can donate any of them. Fun!


Plan meals: Now that I'm going to be child-free for grocery shopping and meal prep, I should have hot and variety-filled dinners on the table by 5:30 every night of the week. Maybe I'll finally figure out Pinterest without being so overwhelmed that I close the screen and run. I'll discover new Crock-pot recipes, meaning my kitchen will stay clean all afternoon as I tackle those monsters in my closet.


Now, let's be real. Those plans might take me all year to complete, or I may be writing next fall about how I still haven't hung up my pictures in the kitchen. Life happens. Kids stay home with illness. Opportunities arise. I'm never going to stay at home every day, all day, cooking, cleaning and organizing. I wish those were my strengths. The truth is, I have no idea what life is going to be like in my future, because I have never experienced this stage. I have always had babies and kids in tow.


Ways I hope to spend my time, once the children go back to school:


Enjoying hot coffee: Alone, or with dear friends, I will drink my coffee, while it's hot, for the first time in my life.


Strolling TJ Maxx: With all of my painting ambitions will come a need for some new home décor items. I'm hoping to call some other newly empty-home moms to join me for leisurely browsing.


Volunteering at both schools: Until now, our chances to attend field trips and be in the classroom have been limited to when Grandma could come into town to help with little siblings or if Mark could take some time off work. We still chaperoned at least one every year, and I dragged the youngest kids along to most PTA events, but now, the freedom to go everywhere and do everything is boundless.


Reading, writing, watching my own shows and talking on the phone in peace: These dreams are universal for all parents. 


Meeting Mark for lunch dates: Probably what I'm looking forward to the most, and what will help me when I'm missing the four small extensions of myself, is being able to see my husband in the middle of the day. We won't need to pay for a baby-sitter in order to have a quiet meal together. What?? Am I really talking about our life?


I was driving our oldest son to a middle school orientation night, and I asked him a question about the eighth graders. Mid-sentence, I remembered he is an eighth grader. How is that possible, when it was just yesterday that I was 23, sitting next to Mark in our first house, anxiously waiting for those two blue lines to appear?


We've all heard the saying, "The days are long, but the years are short."


I have a feeling that once all the kids are in school, both the years and days will feel shockingly short.


Moms: What do you think your day is going to look like this year? Do people have expectations of what your life should be like because you have more kids at home or less kids at home, or because you're working now or home now?


Let's make this year your year! You have worked hard to be where you are and to have brought your children to whatever stage they are in right now. Wanna meet for coffee?

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

Crossing the Finish Line

Training.


I had never officially trained for anything in all my 36 years. In the past, I had been able to complete most tasks without check-ins and schedules. Then, on the brink of summer, I declared I was going to be a runner. I knew I could not do it on my own, so I joined a training group led by my friends.


Much like the four times I anticipated childbirth, the preparation for my very first 5K race was wrought with pure uncertainty. The training session carried on for eight weeks...two-thirds of our summer. The procrastinator and denier in me refused to calculate how many miles were actually in five kilometers until our third week running.


5K = 3.1 miles


Wow!


Now you know, too.


For experienced runners, training for a 5K race may seem so minute. Experienced runners breeze through 5K every time they step out their front door for a morning work-out. For a newbie runner like myself, my journey was anything but breezy. During every single run, my brain and body battled through so much.


Nerves.


Fear.


Breathlessness.


Pain.


Tears.


Doubt.


Exhilaration.


Relief.


Anticipation.


I was the most beginner of beginners, and I was often the slowest runner. Even after eight weeks, the longest I had run was 20 minutes. Leading up to the race, which was the culmination of our training, I still remained unsure how I would manage. I hoped that the adrenaline and excitement of the crowds would keep me moving, even if my legs and lungs would try to quit. New friendships were formed and old ones had been strengthened, so I leaned on them as well.


Then, there's the whole reason why I began to run at all. There is my family. My four kids watch me walk out the door in my neon shoes and know their mom is a runner. The confidence and pride that have blossomed in the past two months are life-changing. I'm modeling behavior that will have positive effects on my children. Some have even started to run with me. They often leave me in the dust, but seeing me sweat and work and fight through my running sets an example for determination and perseverance.


Every runner has to start somewhere. Every runner has a first race. I captured many of the moments of my first race in my mind as I pounded through those 3.1 miles, but the moment I hope stays with me forever is when I passed my family on the side of the course. Their dad boosted them off their lawn chairs when he saw me coming around the corner, so all four of them jumped up and clapped for me, cheering, hollering and yelling.


They shouted, "Go, Mom!! You can do it! Come on, Mom, you're doing great!"


My kids. Little kids, whom I have been watching and supporting from the sidelines for years and years, were there to cheer for me. It was surreal.


I passed them with a smile and a fist pump in the air and kept on running. As the course wound through more neighborhood streets, I began to grow weary. Tired. Nervous if I could keep going. As I followed my way back out of the street, I knew that I could keep going because I would see my family again. Those three silly boys and my motivational daughter were waiting, once again, for me to emerge from the path.


Aaaannnnd...that's when I lost it!


My official cheerleaders were relentless in their encouragement, as tears of elation streamed down my already red and sweaty cheeks. Mark worried for a second I was hurt, but shouldn't he know better by now that I cry at everything? I waved again, soaked up their love, and kept on running to the end.


So, maybe all of this crazy talk I'm spewing would discourage anyone who's reading from ever wanting to take up running. I hope that it's the absolute opposite.


Please take a look at my face as I crossed the finish line. See the pure joy in my eyes?

Did I just say pure joy from running?


I did, and I meant it.


After our race, we were enjoying fresh blueberries around a picnic table, and my dear friend and coach, Renee, said these words to my children:


"Do you see your mom? Look at what she did and how strong she is!"


Moms are strong. We should want to show our children what our bodies and minds can do when we try. They will learn from us to be confident in themselves, too. Three hours ago, I met a woman new to our group who was running for the very first time...ever. A delicate place in my heart pounced with excitement, as I insisted that she CAN and WILL be a runner.

What will you be? Please take it from me, you can do it.

 

 

My friend, Rachel, snapped these photos of me reaching my goal and heading toward Mark and the kids for the final time. I'll be running another 5K in September. The kids want to do it with me. Mission accomplished!

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

Why We Should Stop Telling Parents to "Enjoy Every Second"

Words I would use to describe myself would be sentimental, gushy and emotionally invested in everyone and everything. My facial expressions do little to hide my feelings, whether they are cheerful or dismal. These aspects of my personality switch between a gift and a curse. A gift for those who reap the benefits of my care and kindness.  A curse for myself, for I experience some moments when I wish I could simply hit a switch. Turn off the tears. Turn a blind eye to the deep connection to every living and breathing human being who crosses my path.


You would probably envision that a person who so easily empathizes, appreciates and harmonizes with the world around her would have been one of those "I have enjoyed every single minute of motherhood, and so should you" type of moms. I probably spent hours longingly gazing into each one of my new baby's eyes: rocking, singing and caressing those chubby and silky soft cheeks.


You would guess that as a new mother, I remembered to cherish our interactions, no matter how tiny. I paid extra attention, because it was going to be over before I could blink. I realized they would be heading off to school soon, then morphing into mouthy teenagers refusing to follow curfew. I was constantly aware that eventually, my teensy newborns would be fully functioning adults with careers and families. They would move too far away to worry about their old mom, who once nursed and rocked and cherished them.


You would figure that I proudly captured every memory. I ignored the telltale exhaustion which new parents experience. I gleefully piled on more pregnancies...more screaming babies...more dirty diapers...more tantrum throwers...more laundry...more sippy cups...more demands on my body...more thoughts about "is this normal?"...more moves as a trailing spouse...more years since my own career...more...more...MORE!


Of course, I didn't do anything of the sort.


Here's the problem. No new mother (or father) can even attempt to notice it all, let alone embrace and enjoy it while it is happening. It is not possible or realistic, because we are beaten so down by it to see any of it. Every single cell in our bodies and our brains: Sapped. Dried up. Depleted. Deleted.


We are outnumbered, outwitted and outdone by the end of each day. We negotiate with toddlers to no avail. We wash bodily fluids out of places we would like to pretend we haven't seen. We wonder why babies have acne and cradle cap and acid reflux, and we want to fix everything. We cannot remember the last time we had a shower, a hot meal or a talk with a friend which wasn't interrupted by "No!! Don't! Sorry...I gotta go!"


Those of us whose children have graduated from the baby stage fondly look back with nostalgia. We do feel grateful to no longer need diaper bags or strollers for a quick trip to the zoo. We are ecstatic when our children are finished with our personal milk jugs and eventually learn to pour their own cereal. We are relieved.


It isn't until we pass a stage in parenting when we can actually see what we previously endured. Do I wish that my super emotive brain had been better equipped to mentally record all of the beautiful moments of my early years of motherhood?


Absolutely.


Will I pretend that I was doing it all along?


Absolutely not, because it would be a disservice to new mothers everywhere.


Facebook and blogs and well-meaning women in the grocery store who continue to insist that moms with new babies should be "enjoying every second" already have clawed their way out of the trenches and magically erased the battle scars they endured along the way. Their children know how to complete basic tasks such as use the toilet, take a shower, make toaster waffles for all the siblings and read! Life changes when children gain independence.


If you're a new mama with little ones at home, please feel free to ignore what you've heard about enjoying every second. If I've said it before, I take it back. (Sometimes, we slip up and exhibit inappropriate sadness about our kids growing older). It is true, they do eventually head off to school and become teenagers, and all of the baby years will be behind you.


Suddenly, a marvelous day will come when you will be able to breathe for a bit. You'll be sitting on the beach with another seasoned mom, laughing about how you cannot believe everything you CONQUERED in those early years. You will pat each other on the back, because you were rock stars-even on your most unglamorous days covered in dried up milk and baby puke.

You are rocking it, Mama!

Just check out my last kid carrying his own sand toys down to the water. Independence. A true sign of a mom who is doing her job. You will be there, too!

 

 

 

Tell us about your most unglamorous moments. You'd be surprised to know you are not alone.

 

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

7 Stages of a Kid-Free Vacation

As Mark and I approach fifteen years of marriage, we often forget what our life entailed before we transitioned from two college students aching to spend every day together to two groggy parents who rarely find two consecutive nights uninterrupted by the hum-drum details of managing a family of six. Living this life, working through the highs and lows of parenting, tends to take a toll on the people who created it. Like everyone else experiencing this stage, our previous life is a distant blur.


So goes the life of a married couple with kids. We love them; we love each other. We crave family time; we crave couple time. Our emotions oscillate as we walk this delicate balance of seeking enough minutes in the day for everyone. Most days, it's a struggle. Most days, we long for more. Some months, we may only squeeze in a couple of short hours out of the house together. Otherwise, we settle for coffee and squirrel-gazing on the deck while the kids play Minecraft inside, or wine and Netflix on the couch when they're finally asleep. We manage, because it's all we can do at this point in time. It's being a parent. We want it. We love it, even though it's difficult. We know it will not be like this forever.


However...


You can imagine that when an opportunity came up for us to spend a week focusing only on ourselves, we pounced on it before the grandparents had a second to change their minds.


They offered at least five, maybe seven days for us to be...alone. Alone, alone.

Because the decision was pretty last minute, and we already had commitments for a couple of the days, we weren't able to sneak off for a Caribbean vacay (my first choice). Instead, we enjoyed three staycation nights and two nights in a cabin on a lake a few hours from home. Mark worked some, and I fulfilled my obligations that had been set a month ago. As we navigated this new territory of kid-free vacation time, I realized that we did not experience an easy shift from parents to a couple on a romantic getaway. Our vacation moved through stages.


Seven stages to be exact.


Seven stages I did not expect to encounter during our eagerly anticipated break from parenthood. If you are ever going to enjoy some time away from your children, you may want to be prepared for this range of emotions that may show up out of nowhere. They came as a shocker for me, for sure.


Stage 1-Elation


We left the four children in our hometown (with both sets of grandparents) after spending the July 4th holiday weekend with everyone. Prepping for their weeklong stay was a lot of work for me, and while I knew I would miss them, I also knew that they were going to have cool adventures. So much excitement and anticipation had been building, so when it officially happened, all we could do was be giddy. I actually clapped and shrieked a little.


Stage 2-Relaxation


Our drive home without them was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that we were able to discuss ourselves. We talked about current events, work, our upcoming plans, whatever we wanted. Free from typical refereeing which usually happens during our family trips, we didn't utter any of these sentences:


Would you please chew with your mouth closed?


Stop poking your sister in the neck.


We'll be home in an hour.


Leave his pillow alone.


Quit kicking my seat.


Who has to go to the bathroom?


No, you cannot have any more snacks.


Yes, we're almost there.


How would you like it if someone poked you in the neck?


You know what I mean. Without anyone behind us, we were so relaxed. Sometimes, we didn't talk at all as we soaked up the lack of sound. Coming home to an empty house meant more quiet, more peace, more freedom to choose our own paths. We controlled the TV, the iPad, the meals, everything! It was surreal. We even walked to a local restaurant for dinner on Monday evening. The only people who walk to that hip spot are the young couples who haven't had any children yet and the empty nesters in our neighborhood. This time, we were one of them. No kid menus for this couple. No whiners about tired feet. Just us. Just awesome.


Stage 3-Regret


Tuesday morning dawned, and after Mark left the house for work, I began to wonder if we had made a mistake.


Did we really need all that time to ourselves? Should I really be sitting in such an empty house, sipping piping hot coffee and checking Facebook, uninterrupted?


I was missing my daily squeezes. Missing the sounds of my family. Missing the rooms filled with bodies, no matter how sassy or stinky or silly they are. I cleaned. I cooked. I laundered. I completed all of my motherly duties, all without a child underfoot. It felt strangely wrong, and I told Mark that I was worried about how slowly the day passed by without anybody home with me. Is this what life will be like when they all go to school next year?


Stage 4-Worry


Wednesday morning was our planned departure date for our mini-vacation. After we talked with each child and tied up loose ends around the house, I averted my future identity crisis. We hit the road, which meant more time in the car together, in the cabin, in restaurants. We turned into a married couple with no kids in sight.


We've been alone for four days now. What if we run out of conversation topics? Is this what it's going to be like when the kids are all grown, and we're alone together every day? Can we handle it?


Stage 5-Guilt


Yes! Handling it well, Mark and I felt young again. We dozed past 9 a.m., kayaked across a serenely tranquil lake, devoured double scoop waffle cones and cracked up at Tommy Boy. Throughout the hours, our children came up in conversation, always in the back of our minds.


Suddenly, by Thursday, the entire night slipped by without us calling to check on them, and I felt like the most rotten mother in the world.


How could I have gone to sleep without hearing from my babies?


I'm not 19 anymore, what was I thinking?


I'm a mom with countless responsibilities, and being an ultra-competitive diva playing Scattergories at a cabin in the boonies isn't one of them.


Or is it?


Stage 6-Reconnection


I drove to see the kids on a Saturday, exactly six days from saying good-bye to them. They seemed older and appeared different. We hugged, and I prodded them for info about their week. Instead of lengthy, juicy play-by-plays, they only provided me with short answers.


"Good. Yeah. I don't know."


The five of us returned all the way home on Sunday, driving with no DVD player and in tight enough quarters that their legs and shoulders actually touched one another. Taking Mark's sporty car so I could drive with an open sun-roof and loud radio on the way there didn't exactly work out so well for the return trip.


I began wondering if separating the family for almost a week made me less tolerable to their usual behaviors or if the kids were angry with each other and me for leaving them for a week. What had I done?


Stage 7-Anticipation


When Monday afternoon rolled around, I felt myself missing Mark like I hadn't missed him in years, even though he was only ten miles away at work. I had grown accustomed to being near him, to our bodies and minds being present with one another all the time. I found myself daydreaming about our future. I began to imagine not only our next date night, but also our next kid-free vacation and even our retirement. I remembered why we fell in love half of my lifetime ago, and I focused on how blessed I was that we have an entire life ahead of us.


Next, I chose to turn an even stronger focus to the kids. Focus on their humor, their needs and their purpose in our home. Being without them for a week did create a longing for more family time. More time connecting with each one. More listening. More summer relaxing. Just more.


Parents have so many responsibilities, and one of them is that we do what we can to recharge and renew ourselves. A kid-free vacation may not be in the cards for everyone, but any amount of time you can devote to yourself as an adult first can only help.


You may be surprised at how much closer it will bring the entire family. Even if there's not time this year, think about it for another time. Kids benefit from happy parents. I hope you will benefit from my experience in knowing it may not be easy, but it will definitely be worth it.


What have you done to renew yourself as a parent? Do you have any advice to share?

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My Parenting "Style" Doesn't Need a Name

Helicopter.


Free Range.


Attached.


Tiger.


Crunchy.


Gag!


The shift that's occurred since I became a first-time-mom in 2002, to the way parents begin today, has been dramatic. In that moment that Reese was brought forth from my body (vacuum delivery and all), I simply became a mom. I felt no pressure to declare what type of mom I was planning to be. Nobody talked about "parenting styles." Moms shared stories, sought advice and found what worked for their families. I struggled with breastfeeding and mastitis for two straight months, but I wasn't compelled to include it in my e-mail signature.

The influx of information wasn't as unrelenting as it is today. Thankfully, I came of age and found my confidence as a mom in the previous decade. Before everyone felt the need to declare a parenting style like it was a college major.


Before Facebook.


Before blogs.


Before we were informed that everything we're doing now is Wrong. Damaging. Detrimental to the success of our children, our marriages, and the future of America.


That's a whole lot of pressure on us all.


I can't begin to keep up with all of the parenting styles that exist in 2015. I googled them, just to begin this post, and dolphin parenting popped up. What? Maybe I'm too old and jaded to bother learning the new lingo.


What I do know is that if I were to poll my circle of friends about their parents, we'd find they were raised by a variety of people who have produced some pretty successful adults.


Maybe their moms acted one way, and their dads, another. Maybe they were from a divorced home. Maybe grandparents raised them. Maybe they had several siblings or zero. Maybe their mom had an organic garden and made everything from scratch. Maybe they were latch key kids and ate TV dinners. Maybe nobody spoke English at home. Maybe they were forced to practice piano for hours every night. Maybe they never left the house for anything but school. Maybe they were surrounded by books and music and the arts.


Maybe...maybe...maybe.


Maybe, if we all just start to be parents to our kids in the way that we feel they need, in the way that is comfortable for us and for them, then they'll turn out to be content and successful, too.


The trends will change. That's guaranteed. You can choose to read all about them and follow them, or you can choose to ignore them.


No parenting expert is more of an expert for your child than you are.


As for my family, we don't aim to practice any parenting styles. I'm not wired that way. What I've learned through twelve and a half years of motherhood is that every year is different...every stage of development is different...every day is different.


Each of our children yearns different types of affection and responds to varying rules.


Every house we've lived in has required that we reevaluate the way we navigate life.


Our family works with a delicate balance, and on many days, we topple. If I forced six people to follow the guidelines that come with only practicing Free Range Parenting or specifically being an Attached Parent, none of us would thrive.


Maybe declaring a parenting style works for some people. Maybe having that style sets the tone for a family in a positive way. I'm happy for those families and their success.


Meanwhile, I'll keep piecing together what works for us as we go along. Someday, when my babies are grown, someone will ask them what it was like to be raised in the age of hyper parenting rules. I hope they'll say this, "My mom just loved us, and she liked to make pancakes for dinner."

For those of you who are struggling to follow a style set forth by a parenting expert on the Internet...why not join me in the ways of our own parents? Do what works for you!

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What Will Moms Do When Our Chuck E. Cheese Closes?

Utter the words Chuck E. Cheese to parents, and you'll be greeted with one of two very different reactions. During my past twelve years as a mom, I've found him to be quite a polarizing character.

I proudly stand in the camp of parents who are thankful for the brilliant entertainment concept that is Chuck E. Cheese.

For over a decade, it's been used as a regular meeting place for my mom friends and me. No matter how old or young our kids have been, we always knew they would be free to romp around without fear of bothering anyone.

That place stood chock full of games for all ages, rides, slides, photo machines, music and all the trinkets and treasures a child could ever dream of accumulating in two short hours.

The noise was so over the top on its own that nobody ever noticed that children actually have voices, too.

Parents didn't feel pressure to ensure kids sit quietly at the table while waiting for food. We set them free with a cup full of tokens (always bought with a coupon) and endless possibilities. They actually wanted to leave the moms alone, only checking back in to beg for more tokens or grab a drink or slice of pizza.

My girlfriends and I sat sipping iced tea and enjoying our crisp salads. Well, and let's be real, we gobbled up pizza, too.

Germies and overloaded senses couldn't keep us from taking advantage of Chuck E. Cheese, which is what people in the other camp often cite as reasons to avoid it.

A few years ago, I decided that we should visit Chuck E. Cheese on my birthday, instead of going to my usual grown-up favorite, which is Olive Garden. Our four kids had a blast, while Mark and I tuned out the chaos and treated it like a date. Our Babysitter? Chuck E. Cheese.

I'm writing this piece on the first day of Spring Break, after one of my best friends and I made plans for lunch with our six collective kids. Where did we choose? Chuck E. Cheese, of course!

Surprisingly, when we arrived, we discovered that our local store is closing in just over a week. The mall that houses it is restructuring and has bought out their lease. This comfortable home, which has served as such a wonderful sanctuary for thousands of children during our brutal winters, will vanish. Yes, I just called Chuck E. Cheese a sanctuary.

For parents who live in frigid and snowy climates, indoor play places are vital. Our children crave the space to run around in a warm environment. Sure, they love to play in the snow, too, but that can only last for so long before their fingers and toes start to freeze. With all the sitting still that they do for school, we need for them to have a huge place to be free.

Before I was a mom, I never would have imagined how much I could rely on Chuck E. Cheese to save my sanity. I will forever be thankful for the opportunities and memories we have in that building. Birthday parties, playgroups, baby time, mom time, couple time. It was all worth it to me. To us.

Thank you, Chuck E. Cheese! You have been part of our family. We will miss you.

How do you feel about Chuck E. Cheese? All I can say is don't judge until you try it.

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How Rough Housing is Saving My Kid

If there's one thing we learn as parents, it's that every child is different. No matter how much we think we can prepare for number two or three based on what worked for our family in the past, the truth is, it's all a crapshoot. We can attempt to use the same methods for potty training, handling tantrums, or teaching our kiddos to read, but we will probably still end up trying something new for everybody. Children have many separate needs: physical, emotional and intellectual, so veteran parents try to react accordingly and keep those differences in mind. We even know that children have varying degrees of sensory needs, which also require a blend of parenting methods.

Last Fall, I composed a three part series on Sensory Processing Disorder. It's an optimal place for you to find ideas, tips and even commiseration if you parent, teach or simply know a child who struggles with sensory processing. Today, I'm here to tell you that through months of observation since writing that piece, I have noticed more positive changes and bounding growth in our son. We've learned to adapt once again, like adding a bowling pin to the mix of balls we've been juggling throughout this circus of parenting.

While I still recommend everything I suggested in Part 3, we have discovered something more. It's not because we are currently spending money on extensive therapy: occupational, behavioral or otherwise. It is not because we have sought out assistance from his school system for services. It is not because we have been diligent about practicing his "heavy work" home therapy. It is not because I have suddenly become an expert SPD mother, creating intricate routines or systems that allow him to thrive.

It's so much simpler than any of that, and it kind of happened by chance.

Plus, here's the big bonus: it's free!

It is because he is being allowed to engage in loud, physical play with his younger brother.

Our kids' age gaps and their personality differences haven't created an ideal environment for rough housing or horse play. Chip's big siblings aren't really those kinds of kids. They enjoy reading and art, board games and puzzles, bike riding and scooters. Physical contact with one another just isn't in their repertoire for fun. While Chip always craved that kind of attention and play, unfortunately, he didn't have anyone to fully engage in it with him. Until recently, his "baby brother" would have been hurt by such roughness.

So, our third child sought out other avenues to calm his senses. A lot of yelling and crying was a result of his confused system. We tried expensive therapies that did help, but during the school year, it was difficult to manage appointments. Outdoor play on a trampoline was fantastic, but since it's freezing here for so many months of the year, it's just wasn't feasible.

Then suddenly, just about the time that Marshall began to catch up to Chip in size and strength, I began to see a difference in his daily moods. Our home was calmer.

Ironic, right?

We had kids bouncing off each other, laying on top of one another, pushing and pulling and tugging and smashing, all while laughing and making noise like crazy, yet our home was calmer. How is that possible?

Our sensitive guy was finally finding the outlets his body needed. He finally had someone to play rough with him. They're not hurting each other (most of the time). Accidents happen, but they're no more common than someone falling from a swing set or flying off the merry-go-round at the park. I'm actually seeing the benefits that this horse play is having on both of our little boys.

If you're parenting a child whose sensory system needs regular tweaking and stimulation, would you think about encouraging some rough play--in the house?

I know it sounds bonkers, but it might just be life changing for you. When winter is long, everyone can be on edge, and permitting this type of nuttiness in our house really did help. Of course, there were times when we wanted to beg our kids to be quiet...stop jumping up and down...leave each other alone.

Those were the times I reminded myself to let the kids be kids and be thankful that we have a playroom...in the basement...with a door.

Do you ever let your kids play rough? If the child doesn't have siblings to engage in the play, do you step up to the plate? We're getting in on the action now, too, but I'm wondering what kind of difference we could have made if we'd thought of it years ago.

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Date Nights with Four Kids-Do They Really Exist?

In honor of Valentine's Day, my friend suggested that I write about parenting and dating. My initial thought was, What do I possibly know about dating? I'm an old married mom. What she really meant was, "How in the world do you find time, with four kids, to nurture your marriage with what we modern parents call date nights?"

Now, we're talking. Let's dish married-with-kids date nights.

Mark and I have been married for over fourteen years, and we've been parents for twelve of them. Long gone are the carefree nights of our early twenties. We try to reminisce about what our life was like before our children were born. The memories are hazy from sleep deprivation, but we are pretty sure that during those early years together, we were able to hang out with our friends without making plans weeks in advance. We could see movies on the very night they were released, and we definitely went out to quiet restaurants at a moment's notice! Do you remember those days, too?

Fast forward two continents, four kids and a truck load of diapers later to what our life as a couple is now...a couple as Mom and Dad. Our time alone can require an extreme amount of planning. Obviously, he's working during the day, while I'm busy maintaining our bustling home, intricate schedules and ever-changing kids. Nights are spent navigating the needs of the little people who live here, and we all know how quickly the weekend minutes seem to disappear. Even so, no matter what stage our kids have been in, we have developed a few methods to make room for date nights.

When we abandoned the comforts of American life in 2005 and moved our two babies to Japan, we became a fiercely independent family unit. It was during our experience abroad when we learned the importance of in-home date nights. We would read English bedtime stories, rock our kiddos to sleep, and then tip toe downstairs for time together. We would share a glass (or bottle) of wine and a bag of microwave popcorn while watching already outdated American TV through the Internet.

We sat side-by-side, right in front of the computer desk, in two hard kitchen chairs. It wasn't romantic, but it was all we could manage. It wasn't until we were forced to go without the conveniences of American life that we appreciated what made our dates so special…each other.

Now that we have been back on American soil for several years, welcomed two more children into the mix, and we are close enough to our families that they can visit, our date nights are much easier. I'll break down our system for you, and you can piece together what works for you and your own family.

Rule #1: Have Date Nights at Home

We all have reasons why we can't go out of the house to enjoy time away with our loved ones: a brand new baby, finances, childcare, conflicting work schedules. No matter the reason, it doesn't have to become an excuse to avoid spending time together. When our kids were much younger, we needed to wait until they were sleeping to have a date night at home. Now that they're older, we have an awesome new system. We are able to send them to play in the basement on a Saturday morning, as we share a quiet breakfast and actually enjoy our coffee while it's still hot. We tell the kids, "Mom and Dad are on a date," and they know not to bug us unless something major happens-like a pencil is protruding from someone's body. They really do listen, we stay in our jammies, and it's free.

Rule #2: Find a Trustworthy Babysitter

Whether your babysitter is Grandma or your niece or a neighborhood teenager, every family needs at least one person they can call on when a date night at home just won't cut it. If paying a sitter is really difficult, save the nights you do hire someone for when the entertainment is going to be free, like going to a holiday party in someone's home, an outdoor summer concert, or, the old stand-by: gazing out into the sunset. While we do have some fantastic sitters in town, we also use our moms whenever they're visiting. They see (read: spoil) their grandkids, and we see a movie that isn't animated. Everybody wins.

Rule #3: Try Family Date Night

If you just can't seem to leave those precious wee ones, or the sitter is busy, or you really just want to enjoy a meal with no clean-up, then plan a dinner out that's special for the whole family. Obviously, packing a picnic at the park is the most affordable way to go, but oftentimes, we end up at a restaurant that offers special discount nights for kids. Seasoned moms have lists of these places, categorized by days of the week and prices-all you have to do is ask. I sit close to my husband while the kids color in their menus, and we laugh at how drastically our dates have changed over the years.

Rule #4: Put Down Your Phone

That one is self-explanatory.

You have just a few days left to plan for Valentine's Day. Will you be doing anything special? I'm sure we'll be having an in-home date night, as we do every year. We don't even attempt reservations or movies or finding a sitter for that night. We leave that for the young couples.

I'll probably make something special for our family dinner, and then once the kids are snoozing, it'll be time for wine, popcorn and something on the TV. At least these days we can watch American movies and shows from our comfy couch. I'm fine being an old married mom, as long as I have this old married dad here next to me. 



One of our fancier date nights-going to my cousin's wedding!

 

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Why Don't Moms Get Medals?

I have this beautiful mom friend who's always inspiring me with the stories she shares about her own life with four children...all girls. She's one of the first people I met when we moved into this town, and she welcomed me with the most endearing gift of her friendship. She's always the first to offer help for anything, so of course she brought us dinners during my pregnancy bed rest, and later when Baby Marshall was born. No matter how humble she is, or how much she hates it when I tell her that I think she's a rock-star mother, I have to set the scene for you. Her home is incredible; her children are starlets; her smile is dazzling. She cooks and bakes everything from scratch, and she's the epitome of everyone's favorite school mom. Basically, she's amazing!

I guess I kind of idolize her, as she's actually able to pull off that impossible "Supermom" status, a title, which, frankly, nobody really wants. Though it sounds flattering, the second one of the many balls we're juggling drops, somebody...somewhere, will be watching and relishing in our failure. Sadly, you know I'm right. With Cathy and me, our relationship stems from a mutual respect of mamas in the thick of it all. No need to be perfect, no need to prove that we're the best. We're just there to share in the craziness of having so many kids in such a short amount of time.

So, when we met up during our annual holiday cookie party (remember my peaceful December?), she talked to me about what had been an extremely hectic afternoon in her house. That's one of the perks to sharing my business with the world. Women know that I'm the first one willing to be honest and admit defeat. I welcome them, with their ups and downs, into this cozy, comfortable, judgment free-zone with my manta: parenting is hard.

Cathy and I stood side by side in our friend's impeccably decorated kitchen, surrounded by hundreds of the most delectable cookies in every imaginable color, shape and flavor. She was ready to decompress from her stressful day at home, with the allure of butter cream icing, chocolate shavings and confectioners sugar to serve as the best remedies. Cathy had been suffering with an unforgiving headache all afternoon. Then, her four girls came home from school, busting through the door with the same levels of noise, liveliness and desires that they do every day.

As Cathy was scurrying throughout her kitchen to produce a healthy dinner, she was also busy overseeing that all of those kiddos were set for sports and finishing their homework. While her head was throbbing, she chopped, simmered and sautéed. The dog was barking; kids yelled throughout the house as they searched for their work-out gear; somebody needed help with her math problems. It sounded like a typical night for most parents I know. Pounding headache, needy children, demanding pots and pans. Everything and everyone instantaneously screaming for attention.

How does a parent decide which way to go? What do you think was last on the list to be addressed? We all really know. Moms come last.

Cathy is a master of the multi-task, as many parents are, especially during meal prep time. She handled it like the pro that she is.

As the meal which she had painstakingly prepared was finally ready to be served, she proudly brought it to her family. Just when she laid the food out on the dining room table, she thought to herself, "After everything I just went through to make this dinner come together, I deserve a medal." Even through all of the madness, it turned out to be a delicious dinner, one which adults would enjoy and appreciate. As for the children: well, we know how kids can be with food.

Did anyone present her with a medal? How about a trophy? A ribbon?

Nope, nada.

Maybe a groan about having to eat vegetables. Probably a quick "Thanks, Mom" as they scurried to finish the rest of the night's activities (which also required mom's help). Do you know what mom's prize was? Some dirty dishes, a bunch of half-eaten food and the chance to do it all over again, every day, for the rest of her kids' lives.

Is that enough?

Is she being dramatic for asking why moms don't earn medals? Of course not. She's one of the most extraordinary moms I know, and her children are respectful, intelligent and a delight. She's doing something right. What's awesome about Cathy is that when she told me this story, she was laughing. She knows what she's in for with this motherhood thing, and she's learned ways to stay sane through the repetition of her life as a mom. It's so much fun...and remarkably therapeutic...to talk about what we're going through, especially with others who are in this life, too.

All moms have hard days. We all experience times when we feel nobody appreciates us or values the time and effort we put forth to take care of our family and homes. It doesn't mean we would do it differently. It doesn't mean we aren't grateful for the chance to have these children, or to be with them all the time or that we should be teaching them better manners (all stuff someone might say to tear down a parent who gets real about how hard it is).

It just means that we'd like a little credit. Sometimes.

For now, we have to settle on knowing that we are winning at motherhood, even if we don't actually hear it or have physical hardware hanging around our necks to prove it. Let's ask ourselves these questions:

Are our kids growing? Do they hear our voices as they drift off to sleep? Do they have milk in their tummies and blankets to warm them at night? Do they know what books are? Are they showing up for school with clean clothes and full bellies? Do we tell them to brush their teeth? Do we cook vegetables that they may or may not eat. Are they laughing? Do they hear that we love them? Are they asking for our help? Do we shower them with hugs and kisses? Do we take them to the doctor and dentist? Do we rescue them when someone hurts their feelings? Are they seeking our opinions?

I know you can think of a million other ways you are winning at motherhood. It's all these little tidbits throughout our days, that we meticulously manage without a second thought, that make us champion mothers.

So why don't get moms get medals?

Really, what could we possibly do with one more trinket, let alone with all of the medals we'd be winning for the many years of championship mothering yet to come?

For Cathy, a tiny scoop of validation for her hard work was dished out later that evening, when her tray of homemade goodies won the prize for Prettiest Cookies of the Night. See, I told you she's a rock star!

What are some ways you know you're winning at motherhood? Let's cheer ourselves on right here!

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.

Noisy Kids Make a House a Home

While I sit down to write on this Saturday morning, sipping hot coffee from my new "Super Mom Makes Everything Better" mug, I hear these sounds which typically fill our home:

-behind me is a man with his tablet game, emitting bursts of the most annoying and distracting gunshots. I'm willing to keep quiet about it because I want to have my husband relaxing near me, enjoying weekend coffee from his favorite mug that boasts "Best Dad in the Entire History of the World Ever."

-a seven-year-old boy is uttering noises that really are indescribable with words.

-a five-year-old boy rushes to the potty, so I hear his little feet patter across the floor as he yells, "I'll be right back!"

-a twelve-year-old boy has just woken up to join the family. He shuffles down our stairs, barely able to muster up a "Hi," in response to my cheery, "Good morning, dude!" He's kind of like the melancholy Ross on Friends.

-you'll notice the two females of the family aren't making much noise. My fingers are hitting the keys as I attempt to describe the dynamic of this place. However, my darling eleven-year-old girl has yet to emerge from her bedroom this morning. She's usually one of the earliest risers, even on weekends, but I'm guessing that she's upstairs at this moment, intently working on one of her own artistic creations. We'll leave her to the peace that she deserves. A house full of brothers is a lot for her, although she'll never admit it. I'm excited to find out what it is that she has been developing in her lair.

The noise level in this house shifts within seconds. Isn't that true for anyone with kids or grandkids around? Peaceful to blaring. Sweet to sarcastic.

From two rooms away, I hear this exchange:

"That's not nice!"

"Well, you're not nice!"

Aaannnd, now they're friends again…zooming around with their Lego creations.

So often, we find ourselves wishing for quiet. Just begging them to please stop talking, stop screaming, stop fighting, stop making any kind of noise at all.

How many times have you said this? "Mama has a headache. Would you please be quiet for just five minutes?"

What about playing "The Quiet Game" in the car?  Basically, it means no one is permitted to talk during the road trip, and the first one to open his or her mouth loses. In our car, it usually lasts about thirty seconds. 

What would we do if it suddenly was quiet...for real? It would be eerie, right? We wouldn't know what to do with ourselves. I know, of course it would be amazing for a while. Then, we would miss it. We would miss the laughs, the questions, the sighs, the nonsense. My mom-brain has been trained to function with so many sounds cluttering it up, that if I didn't have the constant blubbering of four voices (and their favorite electronic games) in the background, I might forget how to be the mom I am.

 

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