Or It Could Always Be Hot Dogs

So, Scud has always been a bit peculiar. He's bright, he's fun, he's hilarious and handsome, but also rather quirky. He has a hard time with empathy, with eye contact, with understanding social norms and acceptable behavior. This started when he was still a toddler and would invariably hit other children on the playground EVERY. TIME. WE. WENT. I always thought it was because I was a crappy mom and couldn't figure out how to teach him not to hit, or give appropriate consequences. When he could finally talk (at about 4) he told me the reason he always hit kids. "Be-duzz I am doh nerbous."

The social anxiety has continued through the years, along with other odd behaviors that make life hard for him. So, we're investigating several avenues.

I met with the school psychologist on Monday and we went over the results from the screeners we took. For the ASDS (that screens specifically for Asperger's Syndrome), he scored in the "possibly" category. There are five categories: very likely, likely, possibly, unlikely and very unlikely. Possibly, as you might have guessed, is right on the fence. Which is exactly where we've always been.

On the second screener, he measured in the "clinically significant" category for traits such as withdrawal, maladaptability, social skills and agression -- all of which are red flags for an autism spectrum disorder. But again, inconclusive.

He also scored high for hyperactivity and attention problems, which is no big surprise because I think nearly ever member of our family (JDub and I included) could probably be diagnosed with some form of ADD or ADHD. I don't mean to pooh-pooh this idea, because I'm sure that if it becomes a problem for him we will want to find resources to help. But high activity, high intensity and distractibility are all what "normal" means in our household.

Giftedness and it's attendant odd behaviors were our first thought (and still haven't been ruled out), but homeschooling him and matching his environment and academics to his needs have not resolved many of the most concerning behaviors. He is a very bright kid and definitely thinks differently that most. Our school's principal suggested that we have him tested and apply for him to go to a satellite school in our district set up specifically for gifted children. I'm researching and thinking about it, but am concerned that it might be too high-pressure for him and that, rather than flourishing, he might just wilt.

The school psychologist was very helpful and suggested that it would be a good idea to take him to someone who could give us a definitive yea or nay on an Asperger's diagnosis and help us with any other problems and needs.

My emotions and thoughts on this are all over the map. I want to know how to help this sweet kid, how to get the resources he needs to learn how to function normally and just be happy. I want what's best for him. But, I also don't want to be quick to jump on the "diagnosis bandwagon" and just try to fit him into a box to make it easier for us. And there's also the guilt that, in my years of making it "all about me" and my feelings of inadequacy to properly parent this child, I have been blinded to the fact that I was doing all I could by myself and he just needed more help than he was getting. I wonder about the future repercussions of pursuing a diagnosis, both positive and negative. But, more than anything, I just want to do what is right for Scud. The hard part is often knowing just what "right" is. We'll be working on it, praying about it, pursuing this further. Wish us luck.

And now for your listening pleasure (and mine because I'm tired of feeling crazy), I give you my happy songs. 10 songs that never fail to make me smile. Happy Wednesday!

Scudenstein

Yep, we're facing school issues again. Yes, once again it's Scud.

Among other things, his teacher feels VERY strongly that he needs to be moved ahead to the next grade. (Didn't we do this last year?) I pretty much agree.

But, I'm also very concerned about some obsessive-compulsive behaviors and extreme anxiety issues he has been showing. He's always had them and I keep thinking he will grow out of them. But they're not getting better. If anything they're getting worse.

He is hating school right now. "Miserable" is the word he used. I hate to hear that from my sweet guy. His anxiety issues are keeping him unhappy at school, at home, pretty much all of the time.

So, we're looking into solutions, trying to figure out where to turn to evaluate things. I want to make decisions based on the whole picture.

Mainly it's questions right now.

Are the obsessive-compulsive behaviors and anxiety stemming from the fact that is mind is terribly under stimulated?

Or do they exist on their own?

Will changing grades mean a reprieve from current symptoms? Short-term? Long-term? Could it possibly make it worse?

Does he have obsessive compulsive disorder or another mental illness? Or is the fact that he is very intelligent and not being stimulated causing his brain to look for other things to do? Or is it both?

I want so very much to take care of this tender little guy. I want what's best for him. And I don't want to go with quick fixes and not look at the whole picture, really figure out what he needs.

We are also looking into a Montessori school, the idea of homeschooling him. There are many possible options and many questions with each option.

Wish us luck.

Can You Say Hematoma?

Or "OUCH!"

We took the kidlets to see "Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium" last night. Don't ask me for a review of the movie. What I saw was quite fun, but I didn't see much.

It was a fiasco from the beginning. Just as the movie was starting, the man behind me tapped me on the shoulder and handed me Mashuga's shoes. Apparently Mashuga had taken them off and dropped them behind his seat. Then, a little later I looked over and he had no pants on. None. What the?!? So, I handed Coco off to JDub and proceeded to look on the floor for his pants. I found them almost behind our seats, because apparently he had gotten stuck between the back of the seat and the front and his pants came off when he wiggled his way free.

Then, Kaitybean was kicking the back of the seats and kicking her legs and being entirely too fidgety.

Then Mashuga started to do the same and when I tried to get him to stop he exclaimed, very loudly "But, I'm playing!"

Then there was the part where Coco wouldn't sit still for more than 2.5 seconds. He was spinning around on my lap and trying to get down and going back and forth from me to JDub. I'd forgotten that little ones reach the age where you can't take them to a movie and expect them to stay still and go to sleep. Coco has officially reached that age, so we will be hiring a babysitter for him next time we go to a movie.

Because Coco was obviously not up for a movie, JDub and I took turns out in the foyer with him, letting him wander around. When it was my turn, I decided to let him walk around a bit in the back of the theater where there were no seats. It worked well for a while, until he decided to make a mad dash for the aisle. I grabbed him, but he was going too fast for me, so I only got his legs. With his momentum, this meant that he fell forward and hit his head on the hard, sticky floor with a loud thump. A few people gasped and I hurriedly scooped him up and went out of the theater.

He was mad! He screamed and wailed and cried. I took him outside because I was afraid he'd upset everyone in every movie. As soon as we went outside, he calmed down a bit. Then, as I walked back in I looked at his forehead and saw the ginormous bump. Now, I've been a parent for almost ten years now and I've NEVER seen a bump that big on one of my children's heads. Especially one that developed in less than two minutes.

So, I freaked out. I went into the theater and told JDub that I needed him immediately. He came out and was also a little disturbed to see a large golfball sticking out of our son's forehead. He took a couple pictures, then gathered the other kids so that we could take Jack to the doctor.

We called JDub's brother (who is a chiropractor) on the way and he said that it was normal for small children to get large lumps on their heads after a fall and that we should probably just watch him for signs of concussion. I decided that, though he was probably right, I'd prefer to have someone look at him just for my own peace of mind.

Sure enough, by the time we got to the Instacare, the bump had lessened a bit and Coco was walking around and acting normally. They didn't even check us in or charge us a copay. The Dr. just looked at him for a minute, shone a light in his eyes and told us to keep a good eye on him and wake him up every 2 or 3 hours during the night.

"He's either just fine or he'll need a CT Scan," he said, "and we can't do anything for either one here."

So, we drove home and put our sleeping children to bed. Coco is fine this morning. You can barely tell he even had a fall. So, that goes to show that first time parents aren't the only ones who freak out over their children's injuries.

And at least one good thing came of all of it. I'm sure that the people who were sitting near us during the movie were very happy to see our family leave the theater.

Updates

I realized a while ago that I've left a few loose threads hanging out around here. So, I guess it's a good time to wrap them up.

-I'll start with the most recent: Mashuga and the carseat debacle. I don't have a permanent solution, yet. But we're working on it. My sweet friend, Kristin's, comment woke me up to a very important truth. I've been spending so much time talking, cajoling, begging, pleading and yelling at Mashuga about the issue that I've completely forgotten to listen. I haven't been listening to him and to what he needs and wants. I haven't been listening to my own mother-heart and the still small voice that never leads me in the wrong direction.

So, here's what we're doing. For now, Mashuga's carseat is buckled in the passenger seat next to me. This serves many purposes. First of all, it puts him in arms reach so that I can prevent him from unbuckling at inopportune times. It also puts him more firmly into my realm of consciousness, so that I know when he's getting restless or unhappy and I can meet those immediate needs before they progress to the ultimate, desperate attempt at freedom. It also gives us the opportunity to talk, to enjoy one another. He's already given me plenty of ideas on how to help him. He'd love a more comfortable carseat. Actually, he'd like to have a booster seat, but he is still only 33 pounds dripping wet and only barely tall enough for a booster. I feel much safer with him in a carseat right for a bit longer. He'd love to have a little bag with books and toys to play with in the car. He is a wise little teacher and a wonderful boy.

Sometimes I forget what I have learned over and over as a parent. Usually my children's "bad" behaviors are just an expression of an inner need. If I take the time to listen carefully and look more closely, we can usually find the best solutions together.

-Scud's school situation has improved drastically. It's been like night and day and he is LOVING school now. What changed? His former teacher resigned because of family needs. I imagine this may have been part of the problem -- that she was simply stretched too thin. So, though I am compassionate enough to wish her well and hope she has success in her future, I admit that I did a little jig in my kitchen when I learned that Scud would be getting a new teacher.

And she has been EVERYTHING I had hoped for. First of all, she adores Scud and makes him feel so good about himself. And she is one of those teachers who is in it because she loves the children. It is more than just a job for her. Her classroom management skills are fantastic. She is challenging Scud, teaching the curriculum and working with the other 1st grade teachers to divide the children into skill-set groups for math, reading and spelling. To say I am pleased would be putting it mildly. I just want to kiss this woman every time I see her.

Now I am curious about the rest of the first grade classes at our school. Are they improving? Rynell, I'm especially curious about what you're seeing with your son's class. If there's still a problem with the rest of first grade I still want to help.

-Another Scud update, though I'm not sure I've mentioned this here before. When Scud was 2 1/2 he was diagnosed with an articulation disorder. They suspected he might have developmental apraxia of speech, which meant that he knew the words he was trying to say but his brain and mouth were not coordinating well enough for him to make the sounds he needed to make. He was basically unintelligible until he was about 3 1/2 to 4 years old and even then other people had a hard time understanding him. It was an interesting journey. He acquired language rapidly and talked A LOT. We just couldn't understand him most of the time. It was very frustrating for him. People were always asking him to repeat himself and I always had to translate for him (when I actually understood him).

But, after 2 years of speech therapy he tested at an age-appropriate level and we were told he didn't need speech therapy anymore. I walked away with a bit of trepidation, but reminded myself that even my precocious Kaitybean still pronounced her r and sh and th wrong at 4 1/2.

Well, it's been nearly 3 years and he hasn't made much, if any, progress in his speech. He still can't pronounce r, th, sh, ch and mutates a few vowel sounds. Over the last couple of years I've listened to him and his speech just sounded a little off, still. A few weeks ago I finally decided that this wasn't going to resolve on its own and called the special ed director at our school. The speech therapist evaluated him and sure enough, he has moderate articulation delays. He will be attending speech therapy once a week again and I am so, so glad. After a few years of being on the borderline of normal, people have begun asking him to repeat himself again and his speech abilities are again recognizable as delayed. I have always felt strongly that I wanted to do everything possible for him while he is young and other children are more forgiving of differences so that this does not negatively impact his self-image. So, I'm very happy about this. And sometimes it is nice to have my intuition validated by something as official-sounding as the Arizona Articulation Proficiency Scale.

One funny story that illustrates my point about Scud's speech beginning to get in his way again. In class a few weeks ago Scud's teacher asked the class what they would take with them on a long car trip. Scud told her he would take a book about sharks, to which she responded "Scud, that is not appropriate for this class." Now it is impossible to fully explain this in type (or in person really) but try to imagine the way Scud says sharks. Because it contains both an sh and an r sound it gets really mixed up and sounds just like the word "sharks" and the word "sex" perfectly morphed together so that it is VERY difficult to tell, out of context, which word he is trying to say. Scud, being the cool kid that he is, simply said "What's so inappropriate about a book about sea animals?" And his teacher said "Oh! Sharks! A book about sharks! Yes, that's a great idea." Scud later deduced that she had thought he'd said "A book about sex." and related the story to me with great glee later that afternoon. He found it very humorous, as did I. But it also clued me in to the fact that I was probably right and it was time to revisit the speech therapy idea.

-One last update -- JDub's work. I have mentioned here several times that JDub is in an interesting work situation. The last few years have been veeeeerrrry interesting. As of two months ago, we were certain that he would need to change careers by the end of this year. He was getting paid far too little for too much work, he was being kept from doing his job properly and was not allowed to hire enough help to keep his end of the business prospering. We were ready to go elsewhere, across the country if necessary. One day he felt prompted to mention this to his employer, that he was looking for work elsewhere. Oh boy! It has been like night and day since then. They bumped his income up considerably, changed him from hourly wages to salary, renegotiated his commission ratios for both websites and gave him the go-ahead to hire two more employees. Yippee! We feel so very blessed. Best of all, he is now being given the respect he deserves at his work. He is consulted on purchasing decisions and now has the authority to make all of the important decisions he needs to make to keep their profits high and their productivity at a decent level. He mentioned to me the other day that he is getting a bit "wigged out" by the lack of complaints he's had to deal with lately. They're getting everything shipped out on time. Orders are being handled in a timely manner and are done correctly. So, he is no longer running around crazy trying to put out fires and has the time to actually improve the websites, add more products, tweak systems to make things run better and sharpen the saw. Very nice. I'd say that's a good kind of "wigged out."

So, all in all, things are going well around here. Hope you don't mind reading through the long list of updates. I did go on, didn't I? Ah, well. It's a curse I have. Just let me know if there's anything else I've forgotten to update you on and I'll be happy to write another novel.

What would you do?

This motherhood business is the hardest job imaginable.

This morning was the third time in a week that Kaitybean has glared at me from outside the van door and yelled "I hate you!" in response to my cheery "Make good choices! Have a great day! I love you!"

Scud has begged to stay home from school at least four times since school started (just over two weeks ago). And twice he has called me from school complaining of a vague stomach ache, saying he just wanted to come home.

This morning he woke up and said that his stomach hurt "Just a little, I think." and that he didn't want to go to school.

I made him go anyway. And I made him stay when he called about his stomach hurting.

Then, there's this nagging feeling that maybe there really is something wrong with his stomach and I should get him to the doctor to get it figured out. But, strangely, his stomach ache (and all memories of it) disappear magically when I pick him up from school. He feels perfectly fine enough to play.

So, this morning was particularly hellish. Scud didn't want to go to school, so refused to get dressed until about 8:15. We have to leave our home at 8:15 at the LATEST in order to make it to school on time.

Kaitybean got right up and did her math homework, got dressed and ate breakfast. Then, when we got to school, she refused to get out of the car. I cajoled and pleaded and threatened. She wouldn't budge. I asked her why she didn't want to go.

"I'm too tired," she said one minute and then, the next, "I just want to be home."

As we talked, she insisted that she LOVES school, especially her school and that she does NOT want to do homeschool again. And yet...

She sat there.

Morning meeting got over and a gaggle of fifth graders and their teachers passed by our car, all staring. Questioning. Kaitybean's best friend walked by and waved and said hello.

Still, she sat there.

Finally, after much begging (and, I'm ashamed to say, guilt-tripping), she got out of the car. I could see her eyes welling up with tears, I knew she was unhappy. I tried to reach out and hug her, caress her cheek. She jerked backward, glaring. That's one funny thing about this age. The times she most obviously needs a hug are the times she most adamantly refuses to be touched.

"Well, I love you, honey," I told her. "Try to make it a great day."

"Hmph!" she grunted. As she rounded the corner, she shouted, "I hate you!"

"Kaitybean," I responded, "if there's something real that you want to talk to me about, come back here. If not, just go to school."

At this point, I realized that not only was she 30 minutes late for school, but we were right outside the principal's office. His blinds were open. I'm not sure how much of this struggle he may have witnessed.

After waiting a few seconds, I turned back to the van, tears in my eyes. No matter how much I try to stay cheerful and loving and patient, it hurts to have my daughter tell me repeatedly how much she hates me. I made sure that Mashuga was safely restrained, then stepped back out, surprised to see Kaitybean standing right by me, tears streaming down her face.

"Kaitybean, what's wrong? What can I do to help you?" I asked her.

"I like going to school," she said. "I just miss you SO MUCH all day long. I hate being away from you. I just wish you could be my teacher. That would be perfect."

You can imagine how puzzled I am at this point. She hates me (okay I know she's probably just trying to distance herself), yet she misses me terribly all day and THAT is why she doesn't want to go to school. Also, um, we used to do homeschool which consisted of spending all day with mom, who was her teacher. Yet, she insists that she DOES NOT want to do homeschool.

I held her and comforted her. I told her I loved her and that I'd try to come up with some solutions and I wanted her to do the same. Then, I walked her into the school and got her checked in.

Then, I drove home crying.

Can I tell you how much I HATE THIS?!?

I hate driving an hour a day to take my children to a wonderful charter school that I put a lot of work into getting started, only to have them tell me that they don't want to go to school. I HATE forcing my children to go to school, or stay at school when they don't want to be there. I HATE in an inexpressible way (or at least in a way that is impossible to express politely) the politics and the stupidity of compulsory public schooling. Either I completely take my children out of school and homeschool them, or I am required by law to send them to school, whether they like it or not, whether I feel it is best for them or not. Some days (a lot of days, actually) I really feel like my children would be best served by staying home, reading, playing math games, learning at their own pace. Some days I feel like school is the best possible thing for them. It kills me that I can't just choose on a day to day basis what I feel will be best for them in the long run.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Why shouldn't I, as a parent, have that control and authority? I understand the difficulties of planning for a school and that they just couldn't survive if they never knew, from one day to the next, which students would and would not show up. I understand that, if my children weren't in school every day, they might miss out on some of the things learned in school. I understand. I accept that. But, I also know that my children learned just as much, if not more, with much less effort when we were homeschooling than they have in school.

And then there's also that part of me that LOVES having two in school all day and the freedom it gives me to go and do the things I need to do with just my little guys. I hate to give that up.

Oh, and I'm just not sure what to do about Scud's class. He is BORED SILLY. He's in first grade in a school with a fairly advanced curriculum. Yet, if the "homework" his teacher is sending home is any indication, his teacher is not following that curriculum. The math curriculum is what I am particularly concerned about. Part of the reason I signed on to this school is that I LOVE the math curriculum that they have chosen for the early grades. It is logical, smart. It promotes a visual, kinesthetic and deep understanding of the principles of math and the laws that govern it. There is an early understanding of place value, of equations as parts and whole. In short, it is fantastic. Perfectly what I want my children to be learning in their early exposure to math. And yet, Scud's teacher is sending home stupid, cutesy math. Count how many butterflies there are and such. Blech! Not what I signed on for, and not at all in line with the chosen curriculum. Counterproductive to what he's already learned, actually.

I'm not sure whether or not to confront her. Or whether or not to talk to the assistant director in charge of the curriculum. Or maybe, since I have been so closely involved in the curriculum of the school and its implementation, I should volunteer my time as to help the teachers find resources and learn how to better implement the curriculum.

Grrrr...

I intended this to be a thoughtful post about the difficulties of parenting, of choosing what's best for these sweet souls entrusted to my care, of constantly feeling inadequate and often feeling thwarted in trying to do my best for them. It has turned into a rambling complaint session, I'm afraid.

I wish I just knew what was best to do. I'm trying. Oh, how I'm trying.

And oh, how I love these sweet kids. They try my patience one minute and the next minute they are so beautiful, so wonderful that I could cry.

Back to Skoo

Today was the first day of school for my kiddos. Ahhhh....

I think I was a bit more excited about it than maybe I should have been. Surely I'll be missing them in a few weeks. But, despite getting a bit nostalgic as I watched them run into school in their handsome uniforms, I am very glad that school has begun.

I'm excited for them. Kaitybean and Scud both love to learn. They love the activity and social interaction that school provides. So, they are glad to be back.

Mashuga goes to his preschool for testing today. Then he starts in a week. Just two days a week for 2 1/2 hours, but he is ready for it. I'm excited for him.

More than anything, just getting up and getting ready this morning reminded me how much I love the way school adds edges to our days. There is more rhythm and purpose built in to a school day. As you know, we've needed that.

Now...

Can I , um, dispense with the niceties and just complain for a while?

My house is a disaster. I told my SIL yesterday that it is not just messy enough that I'm embarassed to have anyone over. It's such a mess that I'm embarassed to live here.

So, I will be thoroughly gutting my house over the next few weeks. All non-essentials will either be going to charity or they will be put in storage. There is simply too much stuff around here.

Oh, and do you remember the kitchen chairs I was so excited about? The red paint and adorable yellow fabric. Well, the chairs are now officially a nightmare. The three I didn't prime will be okay. But I'm afraid I used the wrong primer for the other three because the paint just isn't looking good. Aaaaaaargh! I'll probably have to sand them down and start all over.

Add to this that Coc gives me enough time each day to finish one coat on one chair. So, approximately five coats off paint on six chairs, plus sanding. I figure I'll finish in time for Thanksgiving. Until then, we will continue eating while sitting on the piano bench, rubbermaid boxes and buckets.

I've decided that I need to have my own home decorating and maintenance show. Only instead of making you feel terrible about what your house looks like, like Martha, you can watch my show and feel muuuuuch better about yourself.

Oh, and I'm in pain. My left side stabs and hurts whenever I move. So i think I will be seeing a doctor today. Lovely.

So, I'm done complaining now.

It will all work out beautifully, as it always does. I just needed to vent. So thank you dearly, my bloggy friends. I hope you still love me.

Oh, I'm still working on my novel and sooooo excited about it. I've been researching Kentucky coal mines in 1958, Kaiser steel, Napa California, botulism. It's coming together in my mind. It will be grand.

I found one very cool little thing in my research. My grandparents used to live at 1012 Darms Lane in Napa, CA. Look at what is there now.

The little cottages that were there in the 1950s are now a lovely little B&B. Pretty cool, eh? I told JDub that we will be staying there soon.

Finding Gravity

JDub likes to use an interesting analogy about life, gravity, consistency.

As he puts it, what would life be like if, every morning when we got out of bed, we had to wonder which direction our feet would go? Will it be up today, or down, or sideways? It would be very hard to accomplish much of anything without the constance of gravity.

And so it is with our lives. If we are ever-wondering what will happen next, it is hard to accomplish much of anything, to move forward, to blossom and become better.

And so, in this stage of my life, I feel myself yearning to find gravity, to find and create some constants that can hold our family to the ground long enough to move forward.

I've never been good at routine, at consistency. Even as a teenager, when my days were pretty much planned for me -- School from 7:30-3:30, Madrigal Choir from 3:30-4:30, Soccer practice from 4:00-5:00, play practice from 5:00-9:00 -- I had no routine. I'd make it to school on time. Sometimes. Sometimes I'd go to a full soccer practice and miss part of choir, sometimes I'd skip soccer practice. Sometimes I'd go to play practice, sometimes I'd just go home and take a nap.

Now, I have learned much since those crazy days about being dependable and showing up when a team or a cast or a class is depending on me. But, I still find it difficult to rein my fickle ambitions and unruly emotions into anything that resembles order.

And if the over-scheduled life of teenage-dom didn't help me learn to pattern and plan my days, the empty canvas of motherhood and family life is certainly not bringing order to my life.

But order is something I really need to find right now. For me, for our children, for my sweet husband.

I've always thought of JDub and I as two parts to a song. He is the rhythm. I am the melody.

But, this isn't working anymore. In our nightly talks, between the time we put our kids to bed and JDub slouches into a sleepy, drooling blob because he's been awake since 4:30, we have determined that the rhythm JDub is marching our children to is a bit too strong.

Also, the relentless, maddening rhythm of his life outside our home is nearly killing him.

So, it falls to me, miss melody, miss fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants, the free spirit of the family to find a better way.

Deep breaths.

So I'm searching and thinking and trying to find and create some laws that govern our family's universe.

Like eating dinner before 8pm and breakfast before 11am.

But, I also want it to be more than a marching order. I want ritual, beauty, joy and peace to fill our days.

Is this too tall an order?

So, I'm dying to know, for those of you who are so much better at this organization and routine stuff than I am, how do you do it? Any suggestions?

And for those of you who, like me, are a bit on the erratic side, have you learned any ways to channel yourself? Your family?

Please share your ideas.

How do you weave a sense of gravity, of ritual and things to depend on into your family's daily life?

Life Outside the Box

Things are less than magical at our house lately.

Life has been closing in on us rather rapidly as of late. We are all feeling the pressure.

JDub is stressed to the breaking point. Maybe past it.

Our children are languishing. They are fed, loved, taken care of. But still, so much is missing. I see it in their eyes and feel it in the way they talk, the way they interact with one another.

And me. Oh. I feel like I spend more time reading about your lives than I do living my own. I keep seeking some refuge, some friendship, something more in this vast network of souls from around the world. It has served me well -- guiding me to amazing, wonderful people, returning me to old and cherished friends. But, my real life has been calling.

And I have been feeling so lost for quite some time. Confused, discouraged, disappointed that the road I had been treading has come to a fork and I have been unsure which way to turn.

I have been paused at the crossroads for quite some time, trusting that my heart would find a way, trusting that I don't have to DO anything to make it better. I have simply to be, to trust, to listen and live for this moment.

And it turns out that this is also my answer for the road ahead. Not plunging headlong into new territory or seeking for help or answers.

My heroes journey lies close to my home, close to my heart. And my task for now is not more, not bravery or speed or motion. My call right now is less. It is quiet. It is nurturing and building the space around me, remembering how to be "just" a mom again, remembering how to love it.

I keep thinking of this period of my life as prelude to my actual, real life. I've been waiting for the time when I get to do all the things I want to do for myself -- things motherhood and wifehood and housekeeping hold me back from.

Tonight I realize that this IS my life, this IS what I want to be doing more than anything else in the world. And if I live right now with open arms and really dive into my life, I won't care whether or not I ever do anything else. Truly, if I knew that, in giving up everything, I could have my family whole and well and happy, I would give up the world and everything in it.

I keep wanting to be big, to do something great. Why not this? Why not be great at life, at now, at building the only things that last, that will never be lost to me -- my marriage, my family, my home, my heart.

I will never hug these children again. Never. They always keep growing. My four year old Mashuga will not be here to play with me in ten years when I finally "have time". I must, must, must play with him NOW. NOW is all I have any guarantee of.

So, I may return to some of my extracurricular activities. These things I "love". Birthing From Within. Doula Work. Blogging. Yahoo groups. Poetry.

But I feel that it is time to step away with an attitude of never looking back. If I never mentor another class or write another blog post or attend another birth or read another email or write another poem and I have saved my family, loved them thoroughly, I will be joyous beyond words. I will not have missed the things that really do matter.

It's funny, if I knew that by giving my life, I could save one of my children, I would do it. Without pause. Without question.

I could do anything to save my child. Why not this? Why not life? Why not living with them again, being their mother -- truly, deeply.

This is what my soul is calling out for me to do. And it feels so foreign, this deep desire, thirst for less. To do nothing extra.

I could undertake an epic journey if called to do so.

But, to sit, to live my life -- moment to moment -- this is a challenge for me.

I'm ready to take it.

Itty Bitty Reunion Report

It was a good weekend. I was very surprised by just how much I enjoyed our family reunion. I realized that I actually really like this motley crew I call my family. Granted, some of them look like the type of people I wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley, but they all love me and each other and when it comes down to it, are good people. I was surprised by how warmly I felt toward everyone and how genuinely glad I was to be around this crazy family of mine.

I was especially glad to see some of my family that I haven't seen for over a decade.

Then there was my cousin, C, who is witty, warm and welcoming. One of my favorite people and its been forever since I saw him. A couple of my favorite quote from him:

Speaking (very lovingly) of one of our other cousins:
"Well, you know, that gray matter isn't magically going to come to life with age."

and

Speaking (perhaps less lovingly) of one of our cousins with whom he hasn't always gotten along:
"Are you kidding, I haven't seen him for 16, 17, 18 years. I had to come. Couldn't miss it. It's like a trip to the zoo."

My Dad's cousin J.R. and his family I especially haven't seen for a long time and it was wonderful to see them. He has a son, F, who is my age and has just always been uber-cool to me. Still is. He now works for Policy Today and will be taking a break from his job soon to take a long biking trip through Italy and Croatia with his girlfriend and her parents. Yeah, an interesting glimpse at the road not taken.

I'd be tempted to regret my life choices and wonder at "what ifs," but I've got these cool kids.

Coco was passed around and around, of course, as babies always are at family functions. Everyone oohed and ahhed over how pretty he is.

Kaitybean got to spend some time with J, one of my cousin's daughters who was born just a month after Kaitybean. They had a ball. They made a dam with JDub, rode bikes, climbed trees, got dirty and sang Hillary Duff and Britney Spears songs for all of us.

Scud was his usual blend of kookiness and timidity. He contorted his face for the camera, rode scooters all over and was just his wonderful, ever-present self. Watching and enjoying it all. Just taking it all in. Sure love him.

Mashuga was, of course, the star of the party. He tends to do that. Things just kind of turn into the Mashuga show. This was no exception. Just after dinner, they started karaoke. Well, Mashuga got up on the stage with the microphone and talked and welcomed everyone. Then, he sang a rousing rendition of "A Young Man Prepared". Nothing like a good church song to start off a night of inebriated karaoke.

But then, oh then, he got up and danced while someone else was singing.

It was hilarious, I tell you. Hil.ar.i.ous. This kid can move. And then, he turned around and did his little bum shake. Nobody expected it and we all laughed like crazy.

Videos and pictures are forthcoming. They just happen to be on JDub's computer, which is at work with him.

Don't worry, bloggy friends. I will not deprive you. You MUST see this.

And as we were leaving, my cousin C gave me one of the best compliments he ever could have given.

"I love your kids," he told me.

Then, at my shocked look he insisted, "Really. You have really great kids. They're normal kids, of course, but compared to a lot they are really well-behaved. And they're so much fun and so friendly and comfortable with people."

Ahhhhhh.......

Just hearing that made the whole trip worthwhile.

Bring Out the Raincoats and Let the Bleach Flow Like Water

Ahhhhhhh.....

It has been a long week. I woke up Tuesday and had to keep reminding myself that it wasn't Thursday. It's been long.

On Monday we went to Hannah Paige's Memorial Service. It was a beautiful service. Her parents are very loved. Kaitybean and I had the honor of singing along with another sister-in-law. Then, we had a luncheon.

Oh, but let me back up.

Before this, the night before actually, Mashuga started in with vomiting and diarrhea. We were up most of the night with him. Then, when we woke up he acted like he felt just fine. So, we got everyone dressed and went to the service. My Mom and I in one car with the kids, JDub in another car so he could go to work afterward. We live about five minutes at most from the cemetary. The service was about to start and JDub wasn't there. So I called and found out that he was on his way to the cemetary in the community north of us, whic is about 30 minutes away from our house. Oh boy.

The rest of that day was lovely, with a luncheon afterward. Then, my sister, her fiance and my mom came to my house to visit and play with us. My mom re-taught me how to play rummy and we played a few rounds.

Then, the next day came. I woke up to the sound of Scud heaving into the toilet. Yuck. Sure enough, he'd caught the stomach bug that Mashuga had. Well, we've had swimming lessons at 10:30 every morning for the last two weeks. They'd already missed a lesson when we went to Hannah's service. So, I thought I'd better take at least Kaitybean and Mashuga to their lessons. I talked to Scud about it and he agreed that he'd be able to come and sit in the balcony during their lessons. No sooner than we'd gotten situated in the balcony than he began throwing up. Oh, dear. I'll spare you all the details, but I did manage to get him to the car and get the other kids from lessons and go home.

Well, that was small potatoes. Yesterday Coco started throwing up. I tell you, there's not much worse than a vomiting baby. He was so miserable and has continued to be. I thought he was all done throwing up. He started at 8am yesterday and continued pretty steadily until 4:30am this morning. Then, he woke up at 7am, ate A LOT and slept for a few hours. He's been good. Then, about 30 minutes ago he threw up all over me again. He and I have showered a lot in the last couple of days.

Oh, and I forgot to tell you. Scud tripped and fell right on his nose. I think it may be broken. We're waiting for the swelling to go down so that we can see if it's really broken and what they can do for it.

So, I'm about to call the doctor to see what I can do for Coco and whether or not I need to bring him in. I'm worried about him getting dehydrated and vomiting for over 24 hours seems a bit dangerous in a 5 month old. Maybe it'll be a good time to take Scud in and we can just do a two-fer.

Through all this, I'm just laughing inside. Laughing and laughing. What else can you do? I just keep pausing and thinking how humorous it is that THIS is my life.

Oh, and I'm trying to ignore the flat of strawberries on my counter that are growing into little gray fuzzballs. I bought them on Saturday with the intent to make jam. I thought that the only things I'd have to do this week were Hannah's service and then swimming lessons.

Someone has a sense of humor and I'm just doing my best to try to get the joke.

I can't wait for all of this to slow down so that I can douse my entire home in bleach.

Numbers Game

I am the mother of four.

I am learning that the more children you have, the more the numbers in your life grow.

Because I am the mother of four, every time we go anywhere I am responsible for clothing five total people. Sometimes I even have to make sure JDub is dressed appropriately before we head out the door.

This means ten socks. Ten shoes. Seldom are they where they should be.

Now, this part HAS gotten easier as my children have become more independent. But any mother knows that just because a child is at the age where he can dress himself doesn't mean that he really always dresses himself. Cries of "Mom, where is my...?" and "Mom, I can't find...!" abound.

This means that I have five mouths to feed on a daily basis. Three meals a day plus snacks in between -- a minimum of 21 meals a day. Oh and there's JDub. I prepare food for him at least once a day.

And buying the food is no picnic either, especially since gas prices put the grocery guys out of business. On Monday, Mashuga, Coco and I went to Target. There we purchased a heaping cart full of food for one week. When we got to the checkout line we found that all of our groceries would not fit back into one cart. So, I managed to get two small children and two full carts out to our car. Then, I loaded approximately 40 bags and other assorted items from the car to the house. I won't even estimate how many individual items I then put away. I'm guessing it is about one hundred.

Having four children means about 12 loads of laundry each week. Or more.

It means that I am responsible for the cleaning and trimming of 100 fingernails and toenails on a weekly basis.

I am the one must try to make sure that approximately 100 teeth get cleaned twice a day. More when Coco actually gets teeth.

That means a minimum of ten dentists appointments per year.

An average of twelve doctor's visits per year.

At least six rolls of toilet paper, seven pull-ups and 30 diapers per week.

It means about 300 minutes spent in the car each week driving to and from a charter school for which I've put in approximately 200 hours of volunteer time in the past year.

But that's not all.

I get and give at least 25 kisses and ten hugs every single day.

I hear "I love you." at least 10 times a day. And I get to say it even more.

I get to see dozens of smiles, kiss countless owies, heal broken hearts every day.

I get to read close to 21 bedtime stories and sing nearly 30 lullabies every week.

It also means that if each of my current children has only two children of their own, I'll have at least 8 grandchildren. And I hear they are worth all the effort.

So, it's not about the numbers, though the numbers are staggering when I think about it.

And I am certainly not complaining about numbers now. I know that, in 20 years, the numbers I'll be measuring are miles between me and each of my children, days I go without kissing them, years since they left home.

So with all of my counting today, I'm trying to mindfully count the most important thingss -- my blessings.

Happy Mother's Day to Real Moms

The media seems to think there is such a thing as, "mommy wars". So many entities try to get us disagreeing and arguing with one another about who is a "real mom", who is doing it right. But, the truth is, we're all doing our very best, so we're all doing it right.

So, here's a tribute to real moms. The funny thing is, no matter how disparate any of these sentiments are, I actually relate to most of them and have done things so very differently from year to year of this parenting adventure.

My love to all of you wonderful mothers.

----

Real moms breastfeed their children. Real moms spend an hour each day pumping breastmilk for the babysitter to give their children during the day. Real moms struggle to breastfeed and, for whatever reason, end up lovingly bottle feeding their children. Real moms never even consider breastfeeding and are happy to bottle feed their children, because that's what works best for them.

Real moms carry their children around in a sling all day. Real moms give their children plenty of alone time in their crib. Real moms feed on demand. Real moms try to get their babies on a schedule. Real moms struggle enough with the chaos of their own minds and lives and have no hope of ever getting their children into a routine. Real moms watch supernanny religiously, read parenting books and magazines and work very hard to do everything just right. Real moms laugh cynically each time they see an episode of supernanny, burn most parenting magazines and talk back (LOUDLY) to anyone that tells them that they know better than they do about raising their kids.

Real moms use cloth diapers because they are less expensive, better for the planet and more comfortable for babies. Real moms use disposable diapers because they are more convenient, more effective and just plain easier. Some feel guilty about the effect on the planet, some don't give it a second thought.

Real moms speak in soft voices, always try to get behind their children's eyes and help fulfill their needs. Real moms lose it and scream at their children at the top of their lungs.

Real moms proudly co-sleep with their babies and revel in their closeness and the ability to respond so quickly to them. Real moms put their babies to sleep in a crib, right on schedule and sing to them as they drift to sleep. Real moms let their babies cry it out, hoping to help them learn to sleep on their own and cry themselves to sleep in the next room.

Real moms kiss their kids as they go to their rooms for sleep, then wake up with many children of assorted ages and sizes in her bed.

Real moms stay at home with their children because they can't imagine missing a single moment. Real moms stay home with their children because they would feel guilty about going to work. Real moms run businesses and work at home. Real moms go to work because their families survival depends on their income. Real moms work because they need an identity outside of "mommy" and time away from their children. Real moms feel that making themselves better as individuals makes them better mothers. Real moms work three part-time jobs and go to school full-time, just trying to get by.

Real moms volunteer in their children's classrooms three times a week and know all the names of their children's classmates. Real moms help their kids with their homework, but often forget the name of their children's teachers. Real moms trust that their children's teachers are doing a good job and are glad to send them to school to get a good education. Real moms can't help their children with their homework, because they don't understand it.

Real moms homeschool their children. Real moms kiss their children just before they climb onto the bus to go to public school. Real moms drive for hours each day to send their children to an excellent charter school. Real moms scrimp and save to send their children to private school.

Real moms are always glad to see their children and are happy to always be able to see them. Real moms race to day care because they are so excited to see their children after a hard day's work. Real moms sit in their car outside the day care doors taking deep breaths and building up the courage to go through another night alone. Real moms shudder at the thought of picking their children up from school, knowing they are going to fight the WHOLE WAY HOME.

Real moms LOVE playing with their children, making crafts with their children and filling their children's lives with magic. Real moms sometimes like to do that stuff, and sometimes would rather just send them out to jump on the trampoline.

Real moms are organized, consistent and truly "on top of" things. Real moms spend all day, every day in crisis-management-mode, flying by the seat of their pants and hoping it all works out.

Real moms love thier children fiercely, devotedly, desperately and would do ANYTHING for them, even if sometimes they would like to lock them in a closet.

Real moms do the very best they can.

Real moms know that real moms come in many different shapes and sizes. And we cheer each other on as each mom does the very best she can.

Embrace the Chaos

I've been repeating these words to myself over and over lately -- like a mantra.

Wow, life is busy. And nuts. I'm not sure which part of my brain is still holding on to the idea that having a big family can be serene and peaceful. Um, no. It's nuts. If you've ever watched Cheaper By the Dozen, yeah, our family is starting to look a bit like that.

Embrace the chaos, embrace the chaos, embrace the chaos...

Big Fat YES To Vouchers

I don't think I've made a big secret of my utter contempt for public school politics and the "one-size-fits-all," "us or them" attitude toward education in our society. My attitudes toward education tend toward the radical and reformist.

So, I think the idea of educational vouchers is a TEENSY, TINY and very rational step in the right direction toward improving the state of education in our country.

So, you can probably imagine my pulse rising and my cheeks turning a deep crimson when I heard about the recent efforts of an evil labor union (the UEA).

Let me catch you up.

The Utah State Legislature, a body elected by Utah citizens, recently passed a bill that would reimburse parents for a portion of the money they spend in private schools if they decide that a private education would better suit the needs of their children.

The UEA, through what I feel are deceptive and less-than-appropriate means (read: manipulation, lies, lies and propaganda), have gathered enough signatures to put the voucher law on the ballot. That is, it will go to a public vote. If the public votes "no," then there will be no educational vouchers in Utah.

But, to me, the whole point of a voucher law is that one parent can do something to help his or her one student get an appropriate education regardless of whether or not all the other parents think that public education is "good enough."

And you want to know something? The legislature was cool enough to make it so that the state will pay almost nothing extra to support the voucher program. And guess what's even better? A student who leaves the public school system can take only a maximum of 50% of their per-student funding with them in voucher spending. If that student belongs to a high-income family they will take even less.

I went to public elementary school, a pretty good one I think, and I believe I have a good grasp on basic arithmetic.

$6,000 per-student funding minus $3,000 maximum per-student voucher spending equals $3,000. Right?

And one minus one equals zero. I'm sure of that math. I can do it on my fingers.

So, $3,000 left-over and no student to spend it on means $3,000 EXTRA for the public school system.

Tell me, because I just can't get it. How is this bad for education?

Child gets the education he deserves. Parent gets help paying for that education. The public school system has one less student to educate and $3,000 more to help improve the education of other students. In the end, the state government pays less than half a percent more on education. Sounds like win, win, win all around.

But the bureaucrats at the UEA would have teachers and others believe that vouchers are a bad thing. This leaves me with only a few conclusions. Their math and logic skills are lacking. Or they haven't actually read the legislation. Or they don't thoroughly understand the idea. Or they are lying.

I've been wanting to write something about the specific merits and logic of educational vouchers (or really any experiment in improving the quality of education for individual children). But I am highly opinionated on the matter and (as you can see from the above) my ravings on the subject are far from impartial.

I'm afraid I couldn't do it justice.

So, this morning I read an editorial (it's a bit old) on the whole deal. I think it's spot on. And I think they've said it better (and much more rationally) than I could have.

So, I'll pull a Lavar Burton here and treat you to an editorial from the staff at the Daily Herald. You don't have to take my word for it.

Take it away, Daily Herald folks.

The moral case for vouchers

Daily Herald

Opponents of the recently passed school voucher system now say they've got enough signatures to place the measure on a ballot. A vote, they hope, will override the Legislature and kill vouchers in Utah.

Their overreaction is surprising. What are they afraid of? Why would a modest experiment in Utah education engender such weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth?

The answer is, sadly, an old one: Voucher opponents consist primarily of members of a major labor union (teachers) and a corps of professional school administrators, both with a vested interest in the outcome. They fear a loss of power.

This may not surprise anyone, but it's still wrong.

In truth, Utah's voucher experiment should be welcomed. It offers a practical answer to some entrenched problems in the public schools, and it doesn't cost any more than we're spending already. The ongoing dollar commitment for administration -- $100,000 per year -- is a drop in a massive bucket. Utah's commitment to education is about $3 billion a year.

And yet vouchers get violent opposition. The rhetoric includes a full dose of fear, hyperbole and skewed information. You would think vouchers were somehow hastening Armageddon.

They are not.

Opponents would have you believe that it is wrong for the state to pay to accomplish a valid public purpose -- universal education -- if is not accomplished in the particular way they want. They would have you believe that the public purpose is not to educate every child, but to educate every child exclusively in a public school system.

There is a big difference. And the latter distorts the argument.

Look at it this way: The state long ago endorsed universal education because an educated population is more productive. Education was deemed so important, in fact, that the state even made it compulsory by law. In making education compulsory, the state properly accepted the burden of paying for it -- today at a level roughly $5,000 to $7,500 per student per year.

That money is committed whether the public purpose is accomplished by public or private means. The only thing that should matter to taxpayers is that the purpose is accomplished.

Voucher opponents, though, would have you believe that the state has no obligation to fund anything but a public system. We disagree. There is no case, for example, that private schools have failed to accomplish the public purpose of educating students. If anything, they have proved themselves superior to the public system.

The whole issue turns on a single question:
Whose money is it? Or, put another way, do tax dollars properly adhere to the individual student for whom education is compulsory, or does it "belong" to the public school bureaucracy?

Fairness requires that government money follow a student to any institution that can deliver an education at least as good as what the state provides. The logic is simple: Education is a public purpose, and it is compulsory. The state is committed to a dollar value for every child of student age to accomplish that public purpose. If the public purpose that compels compliance can be accomplished through a legal alternative, then refusing to pay for that alternative is inherently unfair. It constitutes a form of theft.

In short, if the state pays for the education of one student, it must pay for all.

The public schools are supposed to provide for individual needs, which include things like substantial one-on-one attention from teachers. They are supposed to address varying levels of student aptitude. They are not supposed to become a melting pot in which "good enough is good enough," where everyone turns out to be the same gray shade of oatmeal.

While Utah's public schools deserve credit for the good work they do, it remains a painful truth that some of our best and brightest students are slowed by large classes, limited resources and government mandates.

Vouchers to support education in private schools are a philosophically sound answer for them.

Do not be taken in by opponents: Paying a private entity to accomplish a public purpose is not a bad idea. In fact, it is done all the time. Highways, for example, are built by private contractors; trash is collected by others; state-funded mental health services are provided by others. The list could go on. Private concerns often do the job better than the state can.

Such is the case with education -- not always, but enough to justify a state-funded alternative to public schools.

Voucher opponents miss the mark when they claim that private education is the sole financial responsibility of parents. The argument is especially unconvincing because the state is currently paying on a per-student basis to accomplish precisely the same purpose in public schools. The argument might hold water if public education were proved generally superior to private, but that is not the case.

Of course, more is at stake than money. Parents have a moral obligation to see that their children rise to their full potential. The state should help them do it -- at least up to the fraction of actual cost that was enacted by the Legislature ($500 to $3,000, depending on income).

If the current misguided effort succeeds in getting vouchers on the ballot, we urge voters to stand behind parental choice. Stand behind education as a public good. Reject public school politics. Cast your vote for human potential.

This story appeared in The Daily Herald on page A5.

Begin Disclaimer.
Don't get me wrong. I love teachers. I think teachers are great. Well, I think great teachers are great. I think incompetent or apathetic teachers should find a new line of work. Anyone who looks into it deeply enough will find that powerful teacher's unions damage public education as much or more than they serve and help teachers. The member teachers are fantastic people. Even the big guys at the top of the union are probably well-intentioned. But, when it really comes down to it, I don't think teacher's unions are the good guys. But, again, I must state clearly. TEACHERS ARE GOOD. THEY DESERVE GOOD PAY. ALL CHILDREN DESERVE AN EDUCATION. ALL CHILDREN DESERVE THE BEST POSSIBLE EDUCATION. ANYONE WHO SAYS THAT THE CURRENT PUBLIC EDUCATION SYSTEM IS THE ONLY WAY TO ACCOMPLISH THIS IS EITHER LYING TO YOU, LYING TO HIMSELF OR BENEFITING GREATLY FROM THE STATUS QUO. End Disclaimer.

And speaking of family...

Our family has been doing something really rewarding lately. We're working on a family motto and family mission statement/theme. After that we'll be working on some good, simply family rules that really govern our philosophy as a family. I want our children to have ownership in the shape our family takes and to agree to the rules that we are all expected to follow (yes, Mom and Dad, too!).

Last week we came up with our family motto. I was rather pleased with how it worked up and that it included input from all of our family members.

Here it is:

"Kindness, faith, hard work and laughter will get us all home together."

We also talked about some things that define our family, the kind of family we are and want to be. I may list them sometime soon.

Back to the rules thing, I'm always coming up with crazy rules on the fly. This accidental parenting thing is not what I'd call ideal. Because sometimes I come up with things like "Never pour lemonade in the dishwasher." or "We don't hit each other with baseball bats." Um, duh. Like I'm going to remember every weird thing I say and enforce it.

Instead, I want to have some good, principle-based, catch-all rules for our family. Like "We treat others with kindness and respect." and "Our house is a house of order." You know, stuff like that.

Today I actually came up with a good one. Not sure it will make the list of family laws, but I think I'll still say it a lot.

Scud was complaining because I asked him to pick up his sister's shirt when he went to get his shoes from under the trampoline and out flew "Scud, God gave us two arms for two reasons. First to help ourselves and second to help other people." He actually went right out and did it without complaint after that. We'll see if it becomes annoying after a while. That wouldn't be too terrible, really. I like annoying my kids for their own good.

So I wonder. What are some your favorite family rules, both silly and serious?

Continuum

I've been thinking a lot this week about the places I hold in my family. Because of the current season of my life, I am frequently caught up in my role as mother. All of my other roles seem to get only cursory attention. That's probably as it should be.

But I've been looking through old pictures and just loving being part of my family as a whole. It's good to feel the warmth of being not only a mother, but a daughter and a sister and a granddaughter. I am a niece and cousin, a sister-in-law, an aunt, grandmother to my future grandchildren.

I've especially been thinking about my parents this week. I am finishing a project for my Dad's 50th birthday, scanning pictures of our family through the years. They were so young when they got married. My mom was 20. My Dad was 18.

One picture especially caught my eye. We were on vacation in Park City, Utah. My mom was about my age. And I looked into her eyes, really looked. I realized something that I've never really understood before. Just like me, she loved her children fiercely and always did her best as our mother. And just like me, she had absolutely no idea if she was doing it right. She probably felt the same feelings of doubt and guilt, of joy and laughter. And it made me realize what a good woman she is, that my mom is the kind of person I would have been friends with had we been the same age. Which is not to say that we're not friends now, just that peer friendships are somewhat different than mother/daughter friendships. And I think I would enjoy being her friend either way.

I also realized how quickly my parents had to grow up. My mom lost her mother when she was eleven years old. My dad lost his parents when he was less than 2 years old. And my mother was my age when her father collapsed in our backyard and died later that day. My age. 29. So young to be without parents.

I really don't know what I'd do without my parents. They are an amazing support for me and for my children. They help us in so many ways and do so much for us. On top of that, they are such a huge emotional support. Their love is a constant beacon and has been a constant guide in my life.

Then, there's my sister. She's just started dating a wonderful person and is so excited about him. And I realized this week that my relationship with my best friend may change somewhat over the next little while. I am absolutely thrilled for her, crossing my fingers and hoping it will work out. But still a teeny bit sad for me as I look at what may be the end of an era in our relationship, selfish as that may be.



I've also been thinking a great deal about my grandparents lately. My father's parents, who were murdered in 1958, taken far too soon. My mother's mother, who was mother and safe haven to her children and every other child in the neighborhood. My Grandpa M, who was stubborn and gruff and sweet all at once, who carried small green tins of M&Ms and mints to share with his grandchildren. My spunky great-grandma who gave birth to 11 children and raised most of them by herself after her husband died and then raised my dad and his brother. She out-lived most of her children and out-ran young adults in her nineties. Then there was my Great Aunt, who also raised my dad. She made delicious peanut brittle, burned cookies, dried apricots and raised parakeets.

It's interesting to find that, as you get older, you really start to think about the people you love and who have loved you. Not to think as much about how they affect you or what you need from them. You start more to think about THEM -- who they are, how they've lived, how life has shaped them, how they've handled both joy and pain.

And as I think about my family, I am simply honored to be among them. There is imperfection, certainly. Fumbling. But so much love, so much strength and generosity, kindness and faith. I am amazed by how my family has handled adversity, how my parents especially have opened through grief and pain and allowed it to make them more gentle, more kind and forgiving of others.

It is a blessed thing to be part of a family.

And now, as I look into my parents eyes as they were young and stumbling through parenthood I feel both comforted and called to be better than I am. For this moment, I am able to glimpse my space on this continuum. I see all of the women who have stood in precisely the place I inhabit right now and my space feels so much wider, bigger and at once so small.

I am mother to my children. Daughter to two wonderful parents. Sister and sister-in-law to some of the best people on earth. Granddaughter. Aunt. Niece. Future Grandmother.

I wish so much to spread my arms wide to embrace the immensity of all that I am, to touch and bless all who stand before and after me in just the way I have been blessed.