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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"May There Always Be Mama"

Bittersweet. The end of an era. We are gettin' old!
 

 

All words my friends and I have recently used to describe the feelings that come along with experiencing lasts.

 

The last month of elementary school.

 

The last parent helper day at preschool.

 

The last field trip with a treasured teacher.

 

Marshall and I have just returned home from the last Mother's Day Celebration I'll attend at his preschool. Our preschool. The preschool that has nurtured three of our barely potty trained toddlers into full-fledged kindergarteners. We have been driving there a few days a week for five of the six years that we've lived in this city. It has been their cozy home away from home.

 

Marshall's teacher, Mrs. R., is also Mama to four grown children and Nana to seven little ones. She reminds me of my own mom in so many ways, so when she welcomed me into the school family, I decided to cling tightly to her. I listen intently to her advice and adore her ability to laugh at her past. She's lived through so much more than I, so like I do with all mothers, I learn from her.

 

While she teaches my young son to write his letters and practice patience, she also helps guide me through my journey of motherhood. A journey she has passed through herself and one that she witnesses forty times a day. She and I often talk about our last babies. Hearing her recall the life she's led with her family helps me cherish my own moments...our "lasts" as they unfold before my eyes.  

 

The Mother's Day Celebration is an opportunity for the children to showcase their vocal skills while the mamas lovingly gaze upon their little darlings. Cute songs, sentimental songs, a story or two, naturally followed up by cookies and punch. Kleenex is passed around as tears are often shed in that moment of pride and realization that the next step is the big yellow bus and a super hero lunch box.

A couple of weeks before the Mother's Day Celebration, Marshall's teacher shared a touching story with me about the students learning a new song. Mrs. R. described the scene of the morning in this way:

Per the norm for him, Marshall didn't sing any words with the class. The music for one of the new songs is very beautiful, with a lot of flutes and instruments that make people want to sway.

The lyrics to this endearing song are:


"May there always be sunshine...May there always be blue skies...May there always be Mama...May there always be me." 

 

Marshall sat on the carpet among his classmates and listened, as his teacher helped the other children learn the new words. He began to show signs of a quivering lip and tears in his eyes. Eventually, he did open his mouth, but it was not to sing.

He simply stated, "This song makes me feel sad."


My baby boy, who has grown so much, was really listening to that music. To those lyrics. To that melody that was flowing through his body. It was affecting him in a way that many other five-year-olds have probably never experienced, making him think, "What if there wasn't always Mama?" I was so thankful that Mrs. R. was keeping an eye on my guy that morning, and that he felt safe enough to tell her what had happened in his little heart.


I already knew that he wouldn't be singing on performance day. That was a given. I never would have known what goes through his mind during those times he is surrounded by other children who bounce and sing and smile. They stomp and laugh and turn 'round and 'round, while he gazes away from them.


This year, I knew. I knew that he would be feeling the music.


What a gift...to have a teeny peek into his complex mind. Music and teachers are two of my absolute favorite things in this world. They've come together at precisely the right moment on a random spring day to make this particular "last" a little more lasting. I'm sure I'll always remember how it ended.


The Mother's Day Celebration was going well. As usual, excited kids hammed it up on the makeshift stage. With the culmination of the show approaching, Mrs. R. asked my silent performer if he'd like to sit with his mama for the final song. My long-legged, oldest boy in the room nodded and hopped right over to me. He eagerly climbed onto my lap, nuzzling into my embrace. We swayed together to that sappy song, as he quietly wept underneath my chin. Geez, that song is sad! No wonder it makes him cry.




May there always be sweet kids.


May there always be teachers like Mrs. R.


May there always be music.


May there always be double chocolate chunk cookies to pick us up when we stumble. 

My boy is so sensitive. He's quiet. Demure. Reserved. He chooses not to sing or move his hands with the motions during class performances, and we're fine with it. It's who he is. As my mom often reminds me, "Not everyone is the same." (What she probably means to say is, not everyone is a showboat like her daughter). Are you and your kids similar? Do you all love to perform or loathe it, or are you a good mix of both?

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Mourning My Dear Friend, Fertile Myrtle

I suppose I should start by warning you that this post is about lady business. Dudes who read my page: you could benefit from reading it all, as someday, it may pertain to a woman you love, but feel free to turn away at any point. I promise I won't be offended. What I'm about to share is so deeply rooted in my mom-ness, and simply writing about it for you is healing, so would you please bare with me through this experience?

Now, let's get to it.

I have had a lot of nicknames throughout my life. Some were cute, some were mean, many were the result of little kids unable to say my real name. Elizabeth is a mouthful for children in any language, as we've learned. One nickname that my dear old dad bestowed upon me as I was popping out two babies in one year was Fertile Myrtle. As I announced that second pregnancy, I distinctly remember him saying, "Well, I guess we can just call you Fertile Myrtle, like your mom!" As more years passed and babies kept coming, the silly name lingered. Last Thursday morning, I had to say good-bye to Fertile Myrtle forever. It was so much harder than I imagined.

I had always considered my fertility an abundant blessing. Four pregnancies resulting in four healthy children was pretty incredible. I knew it to be true. I was defying statistics, so I was thrilled to be Fertile Myrtle for most of our married life.

She consciously retired after number four was born, but the possibility of her creeping in for one more April Fool's joke was never far from my mind.

Ever.

So, I went along the past five years, raising our four kiddos with no room or reason to add any more, yet my baby fever never broke.

Ever.

I always wondered, "What if...?"

Always.

Then, within the last year, the possibility of me actually permanently losing my fertility became a reality. I would need to have a surgical procedure for my own health, and the end result would be the end of this life I have always equated with who I am.

Fertile.

Woman.

Mother.

Gone.

As my surgery date grew near, the most unforgiving nag in my mind was not typical anxiety over pain or nausea or anesthesia or the laundry that would pile up during my recovery. It was the conscious steps being taken to strip away this beautiful gift I received upon my own birth. My gift of fertility.

On that early March morning, as my doctor popped into my hospital room to prepare for what would be a routine procedure for her, I suddenly felt the urge to stall. I knew that as soon as she said, "See you in there," it would be the end of an era.

Deliberately removing the lining of a woman's uterus to improve her health would be nothing unusual for my trusted and gifted surgeon. All in a day's work, as the saying goes.

Losing that precious cushion, which was the very first resting place for all four of my babies, would prove to be a grievous moment for this mama.

Knowing, from that day forward, that my body would no longer be a safe haven for any future surprise chocolate fans was difficult for me to swallow.

I grasped at the right words to explain my thoughts.

Women my age are just now starting to have babies.

I know we don't need any more kids, but I would always want more.

I just don't know if I'm ready....if I can do this.

It's so final. It's irreversible.

Witnessing my inner and outer struggles, my doctor graciously asked if we needed to postpone my surgery.

Then, my husband did what he does best. He cracked a joke, "Would you please stop dreaming about having more kids without me?"

And, there it was. Our laughter. The laughter that had guided me through every difficult moment in our eighteen years together. It's what I needed at that very instant. After punching him in the arm, I sighed a few more times, gave the all clear, and the rest is history.

It's been less than a week after having said farewell to my lucrative gig as Fertile Myrtle, so I don't know how long it will take for me to truly accept this next phase of my life. My days of housing and cradling babies in this wonderful womb of mine are officially finished, but I am truly thankful for the many years it served my bouncy babies so well.

Here I am, expecting number four, holding a drawing that my recent preschool graduate had given to me. It says, "I Love You, Mama." When our last baby was born, our other kids were only 7, 5 and 2. Wow, Fertile Myrtle was really busy!  

 

A woman's fertility is such a delicate subject. I wonder if anyone else who has gone through circumstances like mine felt a similar range of emotions before surgery. Even if you had no previous plans to have more children, was the permanence of it all difficult for you to handle? Would you be bold and share your experiences with us? I'd love to hear from you!

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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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Reaching for Little Hands: A Parent's Instinct

It's every mother's instinct: when she's walking with her children, to slide her arm to the side of her body, outstretching and then wiggling her fingers, awaiting the grasp of her small child's hand. Somehow, babies never really need to be told that their mamas' hands are there for the taking. It's so natural, and they all just seem to know what to do.

I have one child who will still reach forward and upward to clasp my hand, linking our fingers together, until we safely reach whatever our destination may be. Whether we're in the parking lot of Target, on our way into the library, on the steps of his preschool, or even strolling across our own driveway, Marshall knows that when my hand reaches out behind me, it's meant for his protection and comfort. He takes it. For those few moments, we're simply held together as mother and son.

My three other kids are long past being willing to hold their mom's hand. No matter how much they've grown, the second we step out of our car, I still find myself doing the typical mama-reach-behind. I suppose that I'm secretly hoping that one day, just one time, they'll forget how old they are, or how cool they're supposed to be, and just reach out to grab it. Wouldn't that be perfect?

For so many years, I often walked with not one, but two babies holding my hands. First Reese and Trixie were flanking me everywhere we went, and then it was Chip and Marshall. These days, with the big three in school full time, it leaves only Marshall and me most of the time. I've become accustomed to our life this way, and I'm diligently striving to cherish the few months we have together before he heads off to Kindergarten.

Just the other night, he and I were walking up the stairs together to choose some bedtime stories. We hardly ever walk side-by-side in the house, but since we were at that moment, my hand naturally reached out for Marshall to hold onto it. In an instant, his warm and crusty five-year-old fingers were touching mine.

He said to me, "Mom, I am holding your hand in the house. Can I hold your hand when we're not in the street?"

I stopped on that very step and squeezed his hand even tighter for a few extra seconds. Then, kneeling down, I explained to Marshall that holding his hand is not only for times when we're walking across busy roads, parking lots and pavement. It's for any time. For every time.

We all know that the day will come when our kids will suddenly stop doing what they've always done. They.Will.Seriously.Just.Stop. Stop calling us Mama. Stop needing our help to take a bath. Stop holding our hands to cross the street.

We cannot keep them from growing up. We can't keep them from changing and learning to be independent. We want all of that for our kids...and more. For those moments when my kids do continue to let Mark and me be there for them, I'm taking it all in...and more.

 

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Should We Provide Yearly Spouse Reviews?

Can I share some advice with you that I learned over the weekend? It came about from quite an unlikely source: a juicy novel about a woman who whacks her head at the gym and forgets everything that has happened to her in the past ten years.

Imagine everything that has occurred during your own life over the last ten years.

Obviously, for many of us, developing amnesia at this point in our lives would erase the memories of our children. Images of carrying, birthing, nursing, raising, and loving those noisy bundles would vanish, thus deleting this all-consuming notion we know as motherhood.

Although forgetting the children was an integral factor of the complex plot in the supermom's saga, it was a quick discussion that occurred between the husband and wife which lingered in my mind, long after I closed the cover of my book.

As this woman with amnesia is trying to piece together her life, she wonders why she fights so much with her husband. Why don't they find value in the same parts of life anymore? What happened to them?

He's often at work, where he's been promoted during the ten years that is lost in her consciousness. At the office, he feels important, making money for the family to have a comfortable home, cars, clothes and entertainment. 

The husband is extremely successful in his career. People throughout his office seek his advice, opinion and knowledge. He is an expert in many areas, topics about which his wife knows very little.

The trouble emerges when he begins to feel no value in his own home. He eventually decides that he would rather spend more time at work, where he's admired and appreciated, than at home where he feels belittled. He finally tells his wife that she makes him feel as though nothing he does around there is good enough. With the house, the kids, the dishes, the laundry, the schedules, the school. He can never do any of it right, according to her.

As I read the couple of pages that address the husband's feelings, I started to wonder about my own marriage. Do I act that way, too? Do you?

This post isn't about women and men and who has it harder or worse, or that we are all equal anyway. It's about the fact that maybe we should take a look at ways we can help our spouses feel valued. I know that mine has joked about me not letting him help me in the kitchen or that I worry he won't ask all the right questions when he takes the kids to the doctor. Why would I care so much? I can't change the oil in the car, and I definitely do not want to be in charge of the leaves in the fall. We all have our gifts and strengths which blend together to make a family function.

If ten years of my life were erased from my memory, I hope that I wouldn't find that I had forgotten to show the love of my life and father of my children how awesome he is. If we were to set up yearly spouse reviews, like employers do, what would we say about the person with whom we choose to share our lives?

So, what's my advice? Let's not ever allow our spouse's boss to be better at praising him or her than we are.

 

Are you guilty of letting someone else praise your spouse more than you? Can you change it?

 

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Why I Washed My Own Hair with Johnson's Baby Shampoo

One of the earliest tips I remember reading when I was expecting our first baby was in reference to introducing the family pet to a new baby. The experts suggested that parents should start using baby products, like shampoo, lotion and detergent, for themselves, well before the baby's arrival. This practice would ensure that a territorial dog (any newlywed couple's actual first baby) would become accustomed to the new and constant fragrance that soon would be filling the home. At our baby shower, I received gift baskets overflowing with all of these signature newborn goodies, so my experiment began. I washed my own clothes in Dreft, bathed in Head to Toe Baby Wash, slathered that pink Johnson's lotion all over my body, and of course, I washed my hair with the world famous Johnson's Tearless Baby Shampoo. I was determined that Abby, our two-year-old golden retriever, would slowly and lovingly welcome the new baby into her home with a friendly nuzzle when the time came.

Did the experiment do its job? Who can really know. We had the most incredibly mothering doggie we could have ever dreamed of, and she would have watched over our babies no matter what. Meanwhile, what the parenting books don't tell you is that babies produce and use a zillion other smells for which there's no way to prepare any dog: diaper fillers, spit-up, cradle cap, ear wax, breast milk, formula, rice cereal, mashed peas, and those are just in the first nine months.

The reason I'm writing about all of this is because I decided to do a much more recent experiment with the olfactory magic present in Johnson's Baby Shampoo. As my youngest son turned five a few months ago, I began to really become aware that he's not a baby and really hasn't been for a long time. After twelve years, we no longer have the need to buy or keep baby products in our home. Nothing that really takes me back to those days of being a young mom of babies.

Nobody misses the stinky smells of babyhood, but what I do miss are the sweet, irresistible, can't-get-enough-of-'em smells. The ones that you only know if you've been a parent. The newly opened package of Pampers baby wipes, the fresh from the dryer Onesies just washed with Dreft, and my very favorite smell of all, the top of a baby's head, just coming out of the tub, gently cleaned with Johnson's Baby Shampoo.

Part of being aware that I don't have anymore babies was when I noticed that I physically do not have to bathe any of my children. They are all fully independent when it comes to bath and shower time. Well, making sure they enter the tub is still all my job, but once they're in there, the washing is up to them. I hadn't even noticed that I wasn't needed in that department until just a couple of weeks ago, when Marshall actually asked me if I would help him. He never wants help in the tub, but for some reason, that one night, he asked me to wash his hair for him.

Trying to be increasingly present in their short and fast-moving lives, I willingly marched up the stairs into the bathroom to help my boy, noticing the floor already soaking wet with bath water. Along with the Axe and Pantene for the older kids, I do still buy Johnson's Head to Toe Baby Wash and Shampoo. It's for the sensitive skin of these kiddos, whenever they feel they need it. Of course, that's the bottle that I was going to use. I didn't want my little guy smelling like a teenager.

The very instant that I squeezed that golden goop into my palm and began to create the lather for Marshall's hair, I was wondrously transported to the countless days of standing over our miniature bathtub, gently washing away the dried milk from the creases of all four of our babies' necks.

It only took a few seconds to wash up Marshall's hair. He wasn't squirming or crying or peeing on me like the days when we counted his age in weeks or months. It was almost too easy. When the bubbles were rinsed from his hair, he asked me to go out of the room so he could keep playing in the now sudsy water. I hated to leave the room, because the smell from the baby shampoo was so enchanting to this sentimental mama.

But...I left.

When Marshall was all dry and warm in his jammies, I made sure that we spent added time reading books that night. His head was just below my nose, in the perfect position for me to sniff his clean and delicious hair for an extra long time.

The next week, I decided to wash my own hair with Johnson's Baby Shampoo. No need to explain, right?

What do you miss most from when your kids were babies? Maybe they still are babies, and you're trying to soak up all the yumminess of them right now! Let's talk about it.

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

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"Mom, I Love You!"

It's a frigidly freezing Tuesday morning. The three biggest children are off to school, and even though it's been an hour since we returned from our drive down to the bus stop (yes, I drive to the bus stop in the winter), I just cannot seem to be warm enough. I've downed my big round mug of coffee, and I'm wearing a baggy old sweatshirt from my little brother's college days, but my toes and fingers are still chilled. Maybe I need some of those fingerless gloves for typing that Ebenezer Scrooge used to wear for counting his money. I can hear the roar of the furnace, and a few scarce birds chirping outside. What are they still doing here? The only other sound that breaks up the silence of this early part of our day is my five-year-old Marshall randomly announcing that he loves me. Forget about my frozen bones, I have that sweet little dude to warm me up.

He's sitting a few chairs away from me, quietly playing Angry Birds, breathing through his mouth and sniffling...and then I hear, "Mom? I love you."

It has been a few weeks since I noticed my youngest son giving me these constant reminders that he loves me. When I'm cooking dinner, brushing my teeth, playing a game with him, cleaning the floor. It's always the same. "Mom? I love you."

I'll admit that even though he has been doing it for quite a long time, I still find myself taken by surprise each time he speaks those sweet words. I'm usually preparing myself for one of the many other questions my preschooler poses each day:

"Mom? Can I have a snack?"

"Mom? Do I have school today?"

"Mom? Will you turn on Jake?"

Or his most frequently occurring request: "Mom? Will you clean my glasses?"

For now, I'm going to take these numb hands of mine from the keyboard and go wrap them around my little son. He needs me. Maybe we'll hibernate with a blanket till everyone else comes home. Then, they will ask us what we did all day. Will it matter?

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

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What Does Christmas Vacation Mean for Mamas?

It's our first weekend of Christmas vacation. How does that make you feel?  I'll begin by stating how excited I am that our family has survived the first half of the school year! If you're reading this post, it means you have, too! Let's pat ourselves on the back, jump for joy or celebrate with a spiked coffee for breakfast. We deserve it. In my house, we have four kids attending three different schools, with four separate start times. Mornings are a little nutty, especially now that mitten/boots/snowpants season is here. We are managing, some days with more stress/tantrums/lost items than others, but managing nonetheless.

What is your crazy school routine? What sets you or your kids over the edge that you are so thrilled to be done with for the next two weeks? Let's rejoice in the notion that we are done with it for a while. Aside from heading out the door in a mad dash every morning, I am pumped that I won't have to pack lunches catered to everybody's specific needs. I know I'm not alone in this one. One kid doesn't eat sandwiches. He likes crackers instead of bread. One likes grape jelly sandwiches or peanut butter sandwiches, but never both together. One likes no crust. Some like salami. One likes ham. Some like hot food in a Thermos. One likes green grapes. One likes red. One likes clementines, already peeled. One can peel her own. One loves strawberries, which I cannot find anywhere now. One likes applesauce squeezers. One likes canned pears. One likes juice boxes. One wants water. One will buy milk at school. Everyone likes Goldfish, but one wants Extra Cheddar, one wants Pizza Flavor, and one is fine with anything. Of course, the fourth kid eats lunch at home, and that throws in a whole other list of demands. At least I don't have to have his ready by 7 a.m. How is it possible that we moms can keep all of this straight? I guess it's just innate, and our kids are so lucky to have moms who care so much about their darling taste buds.

The other obvious positive of the kids being on vacation from school for two weeks is the relaxed vibes that I am going to insist flow throughout our home this year. I can't tell you how much more at ease I have been this month by removing my Christmas card obligation. We also are not traveling out of town...at all. We will be at home, all together, every day...and I'm actually excited about it. Does that make me sound crazy? Do I sound like one of those moms who makes you want to puke when she says she can't wait to spend every waking second with her kids? Believe me, I know we are going to be on each others' nerves. That's why I'm thankful we have more than one floor to our house and doors (that close) for everybody's room.

I'm just more aware that with our lives being so busy every week of the year, we need this break. This time-out from it all. We can stay in our jammies all day and not brush our teeth till noon. That's what we did today-are you judging us? We traveled during Thanksgiving, and one of my kids told me that he wished we didn't have to go anywhere. He just wanted to be home. It really shook me up, and even though we had already made the choice not to travel for Christmas, it made me realize exactly why we didn't need to be anywhere but home. When our kids start to tell us that they need to relax, we really need to listen.

I know I've been a little absent from my usually very regimented Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday blog schedule the past few weeks. Our family has experienced some other obligations that have called for this mama's time and dedication. I'm thankful for your understanding, and although I haven't been posting exactly as planned, I have been thinking of my you, my awesome readers, every day.

This holiday season is busy for all of us. Time home with kids cannot always be planned. So, I would like to take this chance, this weekend before Christmas, to wish you all a wonderful time with your family. Spend it however you like. Bake as much or as little as makes you happy! Travel far or stay close to home. Listen to music, go to the movies, read by the fire, play in the snow. Break out the new toys Santa brings you. Cherish the moments. Cherish the memories. Cherish each other.

I do plan to take a Christmas vacation from blogging, too. I know that I cannot be present with my family if I'm sitting in front of the computer. I challenge all of us to be truly present in this season. Have you decided to join me yet?

"Our Song" Sounds Dated Now

Our song is by Babyface. The ultimate 90's R&B romancer. The king of swoon. The master of love-making melodies. It seemed so perfectly fitting and appropriate for Mark and me, two love-struck-college-kids, to develop a connection with one of his songs. It's called "Every Time I Close my Eyes." Have you heard it? Do you remember it from its chart topping and Grammy nominated rise in 1997?

When Mark and I were dating, it was everywhere. On the radio all the time. Remember the radio? The song became our song because it always seemed to be playing when we were together. Of course the lyrics were powerful and meaningful, too. They were beautiful and sweet and romantic. It resonated everything that's needed to make a great "our song." Naturally, it morphed into being the perfect ballad for our first dance as a married couple.

I'm going to guess that you haven't actually accidentally heard this song in the past decade and a half. At this point, you'd have to own the CD or find it on YouTube to hear it again. Is there a Babyface Pandora station? Now I'm wondering. Some couples' songs are still everywhere. Celine Dion, Whitney Houston, all those country singers who seem to write lyrics just so they'll become wedding songs. Those guys are still relevant. Babyface...not so much. Where did he go? Why didn't his song...our song, become an iconic love song that is played for decades?

I'm sad to say it's because it's a little dated. Okay, a lot dated. The lyrics are still fantastic, but the music itself hasn't managed to stand the test of time.

Just a few weeks ago, Marshall and I were waiting at a booth for my friend to meet us for a coffee date. Obviously, the adults were going to be having coffee. Five-year-old Marshall was having white milk and cinnamon rolls...his favorite out-to-breakfast treat. As we were sitting in the quiet room with sun shining in, those familiar keys rang through my ears.

It was shocking, as I haven't heard it on the radio (or even through Muzak) since any of my kids were born.

Instantly, with that first note, I was transported back in time to all of the trips Mark and I took in his powder blue '84 Cutlass. Fresh in my mind again were the days of  having to wait weeks at a time to see each other, changing my hair color every six months, and seeing Titanic in the theater so many times I lost count. Then the memories of our wedding dance came flooding through me. Dancing as though there weren't six hundred eyes focused directly and solely on us. Slowly gliding through the center of the room, knowing that the day had finally arrived when we could be together, forever.

I listened intently to the music that morning. I explained to Marhsall how special the song that he was hearing was to his dad and me. He's five. He didn't really get it, but I told him anyway. I told him about our wedding dance. I wanted someone to share in the memories with me, because it was such an important piece of music for our early lives together. Then, I did the very 2014 thing of texting my husband to let him know I was thinking of him.

Our song was on the radio! 17 years later, it was coming through speakers in a public place again. I didn't care that it was soooo 90's. It was so "us."

Take a look at the totally cool video for our song. Does it seem dated to you?

"Every Time I Close My Eyes" Video

 

What's your song? When you listen to it now, how does it make you feel?


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