just a summer day

the part i dislike the most of passing time is not remembering the little details of what the days looked like.

today this day had maggie with her funny sunburn spots

and day old hairdo

and her with no shirt on.

a typical way for her to sleep.

many tiny things pass everyday that will never come back to memory,

but today this tiny moment will get remembered.

sunday fun day

everyday should be a fun day,

and many are.

none quite as fun as sunday though.

pine view with the engars is how we spent this day.

love the setting, love the people, and love watching the kids play.

i could watch my kids carrying buckets of water and making sand cities all day long.

lucy told maggie the sand city was made of ancient ruins.

"that means there are no modern things" 

she explained.

maggie's response:

"ok. we won't put chimneys on the houses then."

the boys didn't care about modern or chimneys.

it was all about building the biggest city in the fastest amount of time.

i love water.

love watching it,

love getting in it.

love standing in the windy waves

chatting with a friend who knows you well enough to know how to tell you exactly what you  need to hear in a language you understand.

give this moment what it deserves

give this moment what it deserves.
what is this moment?
and what does it deserve?
this is the moment where i feel devastated about not getting the house on london road.
i'm devastated because i wanted the house and the yard,
but i'm also devastated because i didn't listen to what was inside of me.
i had a normal dose of insecurity,
fearing i would miss our grass, or planting tomatoes, or having the perfect place for my zebra rug.
it was all normal.
i'm mourning the knee jerk reaction to which i called all off,
instead of taking a deep breath and letting me move cautiously forward.
it's the all or thinking mindset that i need to stop living with.
it's also having the confidence to know that i can have things in my heart.
i can have dreams.
i can want things.
i can want a change,
and i can not just plan on improving a lot by painting, decorating, and moving.
i don't have to just let cleaning my house everyday and decluttering be enough.
i can make grown up decisions about smart investments.
i can be that person.
i can look fear in the face calmly and say
"what are you trying to tell me?"
"I don't have to give into you."
it's something more though.
it's letting my things matter
and not letting other people decide what matters for me.
it's standing my ground in a way that is born out of love for myself
yet knowing how to show respect for others.
it's letting a little disruption in
and experiencing something new even when it feels hard.
it's a little bit of mourning too.
mourning that i thought i was such a strong person who was living the intents of my heart.
it's admitting that i really am just a little girl who is trying to grow up.
and it's finding out a way to let that little girl grow up.
this is also a moment where i can stay connected to pete and not just keep pushing him away because i feel like he is always crushing my dreams.
it's figuring out how i can pull him into my dreams and show him why they are important and not backing down just because he never changes, has plans, or moves.
it's knowing how i can still move when he doesn't.
it's always choosing love,
even when i want to choose abandonment and punishment.
it's trying to feel what love feels like.
it's getting out of bed and remembering that i was pleased with my life
and i felt so fortunate for one of the few convictions that i had about the most important thing being my family
and knowing that i'm happy because i like what is on the inside of me.
it's not forgetting the conviction i also had that my life will be wonderful regardless of what house i live in.
but it's not remembering that by making my feelings and loss over that house invalid.
it's being able to say
"i'm sad, and i can be sad, but i won't let the sadness steal anything from me."
this moment asks me to remember to not stop being who i am.
to know that my ideas are valuable,
to know that i am smart,
and my ideas deserve to be heard even when pete is afraid of them.
it wants me to remember to move slowly when i feel afraid or nervous,
to honor anxiety but not to let it control me,
but instead be able to say
"i know you are there. i know it feels scary, but this is just a feeling. i am strong, and i will take care of us."
it also wants me to know that i don't always have to move slow.
i can act quickly when moved upon by conviction.
stop doubting myself.
and let all this yucky feeling go,
stop making myself think about it.
focus on thanksgiving,
play uno or checkers with my kids.
do what i want to do.
stop believing that everything just magically works out.
we have to work our own lives out.
period.

i wish(ed) i was that mom

maggie and i had our morning walk to the park,
a park i've been taking my children to for almost 9 years.
we hadn't been there long when the kind of mom that triggers me every time showed up.
she was pulling her 2 daughters in a red radio flyer wagon with padded seats, seatbelts, and a sunshade.
she had on her casual attire,
white t-shirt, blue skinny jeans, and floral flats.
the lack of a fat roll showing through her white t-shirt made her look anything but casual.
her oldest daughter was in a white and yellow sundress with white leggings,
complete with 2 perfect pig tail braids with the white bows above them.
the youngest daughter had on a floral sundress with silver moccasins.
after she sprayed every inch of their exposed skin with sunscreen,
she assisted the girls down the slide playing "chugga chugga choochoo".
after that it was the cheese stick snack pulled out of the (insert any designer name that i don't know) cooler bag.
i watched her,
not because i judged her,
or thought there was anything unpleasing about what she was doing,
but because i've spent so much time wishing i was her.
i wanted to be the mom that cared so much about the safety and comfort of my children that i would buckle them into that luxurious wagon,
but i didn't think i could really get that wagon.
i wanted to care about the safety and comfort of my children that i would patch their delicate skin with sunscreen every time we left the house,
but i always bought the lotion sunscreen and it was hardly worth the application.
i wanted to care about the comfort of my children so much that i always wanted to bring snacks to the park,
but i never knew what kind of snack to bring that would be just right for my little child.
i wanted to care about the development of my child so much that i would teach them all the age appropriate development games like "chugga chugga choochoo" on the slide,
but the games never occurred to me.
i wanted to be a size 4 and look terrific in a white t-shirt and skinny jeans,
but i never was.
and those damn white hair bows.
i never wanted my daughter to be without them.
i spent this day resurrecting that mom that lived inside me not many years ago.
i was wishing again,
perhaps with even more fervor,
that i could be that mom.
be her once before i stop bringing my babies to the park.
that wishing ruined my day,
and made me realize that it's time to put that well meaning mother inside me to rest.
once she knows she doesn't have to wish for anything anymore
she might see how much she has always cared about her children.
she has cared about them so much that she bought the traditional metal radio flyer wagon.
it was the one that her son could fit in with his dad and soar down the hill at speeds only necessary to evoke loud screaming and laughter.
she even still cares about their safety and comfort because her daughter is wearing the batman helmet of her brother as she rides the 3rd generation blue bike that her daughter insists on having even though this mother would rather her have a white bike with a banana seat.
she might also know that she cared about their skin enough to let the sun kiss it and leave its mark as evidence that they were there, playing in the sun, drinking vitamin D.
she might also know that she cared about the comfort of her children so much that she has fed them 3 meals every day so that they might not have excessive hunger,
and she might also smile because she knows that her kids don't even like cheese for a snack.
she might also know that she has cared deeply about their development.
she has cared so much she abides by all the rules of every made up game that her children have ever suggested.
she has cared because she plays spider tag on the playground.

a 7 year old's day

today will had a party.
he has been counting down since about march.
he wanted kol & luk, emi & mack, ben & amber, owen, cedric, patrick & norah to be there.
they all came except kol & luk, emi & mack, ben & amber, and owen.
he went to get air... a trampoline park.
it seemed almost as fun as he thought it would be.
i think he was pleased with his chosen avenger's theme.
last week it was a helicopter theme,
but as invitations went out he changed it.
avengers it was.
that meant he got a cool captain america cake that pete & i made.
he liked it,
but reminded me after that he only likes plain chocolate cake with no icing.
the avengers party  meant he also got a captain america t-shirt & shield.
he told the others that even though it was an avenger's party it was ok they didn't bring avenger's stuff.
they brought him an airplane, hippie ball, dice game, ninja stuffed animal, kendama, baskin robbins card,
and maggie & sam made a big twin size pillowcase like bag to play in.
by the end of the day i think he realized the day was about celebrating him,
not the avengers.
perhaps it was obvious when we took him out for his annual 7/11 free slurpee and special mustache straw,
or the bike ride down to grassy area to play tag and pick apricots on the way home,
or the dinner request of wild rice, chicken on a bone, and his own bowl of shrimp,
or the fact he didn't have to do any daily jobs today.
(let it be known he is always willing and never minds unloading dishwasher or taking out garbages but never wants to vacuum the rug.)
or the baby slideshow of him,
or the tradition of measuring him on the wall.
the reminder that i hope he remembers most is when we all made a wish for him before blowing out our dinner candles.
maggie said she wished he would keep playing with her all the time.
sam wished that will could learn to dance better.
i wished that if he ever had a chance to eat a polka-dotted hippo that he would do it.
and i also wished that he could find a new thing that he loves to do and do it as often as he can.
pete wished he could get a girlfriend.
then he wished he would continue to get more courageous.
our main wish for him is that we get many more years to have parties with him.

we love you, will!

everyone has a mother

tonight we had an apollo burger for dinner.
it wasn't crowded at all.
we could see everyone in the restaurant,
which made one patron more noticeable.
he was a 40 something-ish man,
and it was obvious he had schizophrenia +.
i made an attempt to not stare when he had his head down in his food,
or when he was throwing pastrami at the ceiling,
or as he was conversing with himself about something that didn't exist anywhere except in his mind.
when i was observing him i had to glance past all 3 of my children to see him.
my big, tender heart just couldn't help it,
but i started imagining how many years ago he could have been sitting at a table with his own mother playing I spy in a restaurant or showing off how he can make cross-eyed faces while wiggling his ears.
perhaps his mother knew way back then what her son's future would be like,
maybe she didn't.
i know nothing about what kind of mother he had when he was 4, 6, or 8,
but i know he had one.
we all have one.
i can't predict what my own precious children's lives will be like along another 35 years,
but however it ends up,
it won't ever change that they will always be my child
and i their mother.
every year around mother's day i manage to get a spontaneous heart tapping experience that reminds me of the unique privilege it is to provide life for another human.
tonight it was the man at apollo burger,
the man who has a mother,
no matter what.

life

i have a fulfilling life,
but it is not exotic.
or super exciting.
not even extra stimulating
and certainly not as educated as i had hoped.
i can also safely say there is a deficiency of fanfare going on over here, too.
but there are plenty of moments i value and hope to always remember.
like tonight.
will loves playing the game of life.
it tends to be a preferred after dinner event for him.
he was quickly assembling the board on the front room rug as soon as he took his last bite.
we all found our way there tonight before any of the dinner mess had been attended to.
it was a typical game,
except i somehow got stuck with the yellow car instead of my preferred white car.
it was also atypical because will decided he would get married this game.
he said he would just marry me.
of course sam was mumbling about how that would never work because then i wouldn't be married to dad.
but mostly it was typical.
sam was the only one who took the long route to college.
i still don't know why he does it because we all end up picking 3 career cards and just choosing the one we want.
i guess it's because he insists on choosing 3 salary cards since he went to college.
he somehow almost always ends up with 90,000 or 100,000.
if he doesn't, he trades salary cards the first chance he gets.
and he is the only one who collects paydays and life tiles.
and he is the only one concerned about following the rules.
he also did his victory dance when he got the police officer,
and he always collects money from the bank if someone spins a 10.
in his usual fashion, will was just interested in spinning the wheel and trying to get to the end.
if he spun a low number he always spins again no matter how loud sam is yelling that it's not fair.
he never cares what space he is on,
unless it involves having children,
and then he protests.
his favorite stop to make is to buy a house.
he always wants to keep picking until he gets the tudor.
he likes it because we all start calling him "scooter the tooter!"
he thinks it's funny.
he also loves to hold the house cards for everyone else to choose.
he tries to stack it for everyone by holding up the card he wants them to pick.
he always holds the beach house card up for me.
sam yells that it's not fair,
so will always holds up the split level card for sam.
sam falls for it almost every time.
and then throws a fit about having to live in the split level.
(i think he actually likes the attention of us teasing him about it.)
he wants to choose again,
but we all say "you get what you get"
and the game goes on.
maggie did her usual.
she hung around watching and occasionally asking when it was her turn and where her car went.
then she fills her car full of people and plays her own game.
until she decides to get everyone a snack.
tonight it was grapes.
she washed them in the bag in the bathtub.
then she carried the bag to the rug, leaking water.
then she got everyone a little bowl and picked grapes off the stem for us.
i did my usual involvement,
wondering what the rules were going to be this time.
i inwardly applaud myself for going with the flow and not forcing them to play how it is "supposed" to be played.
and i watch pete.
he never seems to quite know what is going on
or how the kids ever learned to play this game so loosey goosey.
the kids just tell him what to do,
and he does it.
will always gets to the end first.
he makes certain of that.
no one cares though.
we all know we keep playing until everyone gets there,
and sam would rather be collecting money than parking it.
will is just glad he gets to end up at the mansion because he is certain it has a swimming pool.
once he finishes with his own little game of make believe in retirement,
he is off.
he doesn't stick around.
no one really does except for me and sam.
sam does because he has to count all his money including life tiles to see if he won.
(he always wins. remember, no one else collects money.)
i stay because i like to be the one to clean the game up.
it must be done in an orderly way to make the set up of the next game easy.
the nice part is that if we play on a friday sam always says fridays are massage night.
so he gives us back rubs when the game is over,
with lotion if we want it.
pete wants it every time,
and i pretty much never do.
sam takes it serious,
just like he is a professional.
every time he finds a bone on my back he says
"oh, i found a rough spot. i better loosen this up.",
and he rubs until he says it feels loose.

i think about nights like this even when i'm not living one.
my life may be missing a bit of the glamour i had hoped it would have,
but i have life.
and i can count on its simple pleasures and routines.
it makes me happier in ways that i never knew i needed.
i may one day find myself landing on a space that adds something to what i already have,
but for now this is the game of life i want to be playing.
i like it,
especially when i'm in the white car. :)