a little piece of me in them

my dad used to take me golfing.
sometimes i got to play
and other times i just walked and watched.
i made my own fun and memories as my imagination grew
while chasing golf balls,
dreaming of swimming in every pond to retrieve them,
and sneaking as many "free" balls as i could out of the trees.
sometimes my dad would let me hit a few balls in the fairway or on the green if no one else was around.
and on the rare occasion he got a cart,
he let me drive that too.
i don't think time has diluted these memories for me;
i know i really loved that time.
i learned a lot about golf by just watching,
i learned how to put with Sherman's phrases...
"you got to get it there, alice!"
i saw a lot of sunsets from bountiful ridge and bonneview,
and i sweated a lot on the UU course.
i also learned a new skill and confidence.
realizing my children know nothing about this part of me,
or have rarely had this type of experience with me,
i decided to take them to the driving range with me this morning.
so glad i did!!
they took my speech seriously about what i expected of them in this world of a grown up sport.
they were respectful and aware.
they listened to my golf lesson as i imparted every bit of training i ever received from my father.
and fun was had by all.
even me.
i could still drive the ball past the 150 yard mark
and hit it consistently.
it was all so familiar
and positive.
positive recalling something so good in my past,
positive sharing that with my children.
thanks, sherman, for giving me this.

lemonade: worth it

the kids wanted to do a lemonade stand today.
i don't love lemonade stands.
they feel like too much work and mess.
(i do like seeing the signs they make though.)
and after the work and mess,
will enough people stop to make it worth it?
today was worth it.
it wasn't a mess.
i enjoyed it actually.
enjoyed seeing my kids work together and not be fighting.
seeing them choose the perfect spot,
under a shade tree,
in front of a church for parking,
and on a busy street.
i enjoyed seeing them look people in the eye and be talkative even if it was as stretch for them.
enjoyed the colored car game,
even if not 1 white car stopped for sam
and even if i won with silver.
(i guess people driving silver cars like lemonade the most.)
i enjoyed seeing the boys give away free lemonade to the teenagers on skateboards
and the mosquito abatement lady.
and enjoyed every teenage boy that stopped who relieved their summer childhood through a glass of lemonade and a big tip.
i enjoyed seeing the realization my kids had that teenagers are actually nice people
and the realization that they have never known a naughty teenager.
(hope that they will remember they can be a nice teenager too. they will be.)
i enjoyed seeing maggie in her own world picking sour apples off the tree and ground.
(they were actually kind of good.)
i enjoyed seeing the childhood wonder as the kids divided up their $11.75,
making sure it was even.
enjoyed seeing will not worry about the extra change and genuinely not care.
enjoyed the time outside reading under a tree,
being with my kids,
and feeling like it was a summer day at it's finest.
also enjoyed the kid's willingness to help me pass out back to school hair flyers in the neighborhood.
they gave me hope that people will come.

one more down

maggie is down another tooth.

it's her 3rd tooth,

but this time it's the most significant tooth,

the 1st top front tooth,

the one that takes the baby look and turns it right into the look of a big kid.

now she looks big.

this has been a long time in the making.

it has been loose for months.

in maggie fashion, she checked it everyday and then left it alone.

she wanted it to fall out all on it's own,

and that's kind of how it happened.

it was gray from the dead root,

could be twisted almost all the way around,

and barely hanging on by a thread.

then she took a basketball to the face,

and it was out.

and she was thrilled.

she got a $1

and was glad the tooth fairy didn't actually keep the tooth.

she loves writing letters to the tooth fairy asking how much money her tooth is worth.

she's enjoying being big 

and trying to make the s sound correctly.

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.