Best Friends

I think the greatest gift that I have given my kids is the gift of each other. Emily is 3 1/2 years older than Lou. After almost 3 years, Charlie was born, and 3 1/2 years later came Patch. For 10 years I had babies. I always knew I wanted more than one child but how many and the time span in which they were to be born was something I just never really thought about. I just kinda "knew" when it was time to start trying for another. Thankfully, pregnancy came extremely quick for me. (although some might say too quick in the case of that first one. ahem.)
When we decided to try for a baby after Emily, I prayed she would have a sister. Of course, the visions of two beautiful girls dressed prissily in matching frocks polluted my mind, but my overwhelming desire was to "grow" a best friend for Emily. Tucker was of like mind, although everyone just assumed he wanted a boy. He still talks about how annoyed he was when people used to comment on how disappointed he must be that it was another girl! Emily loved her baby sister from the moment she found out she was on her way. Although they have the occasional sibling squabble, they truly are best friends. They are together most of the time and understand one another like no other.
When we decided to have our fourth, which literally was a split moment decision, I thought how fabulous it would be for Charlie to have what Lou and Em have! The girls loved Charlie, but it was undeniable the bond that they shared as sisters. Could having a brother be just as wonderful to my son? Ironically, we were told very early on in my fourth pregnancy that we were expecting a girl. We were happy, but disappointed Charlie would miss out on having a brother. (surely no more Hearnlets after 4!!) For weeks we referred to the baby growing inside me as Clara, and mentally prepared ourselves for little girl #3. However, during a routine ultrasound it was confirmed that this last little baby was in fact a boy! Our little girl had grown a winkie!!
Charlie and Patch are to each other what Lou and Em are. They understand one another in a way no one else does. They are "bubbies" and they are best friends. They have each other now and will forever.
I know I had no hand in my children's birth order, but I marvel at God's perfection. He gave my children each other in the most perfect ways imaginable. They are better people for having each other and I am so very thankful.

Bitty Baby Growing Up

I was just a baby when Emily was born. Many 20 year olds are mature and wise. I was not one of them. All I knew about babies was what I learned from playing with dolls. But Emily taught me a lot.

In the early years of our marriage, and when Emily was an infant, Tucker was still in college and worked all of the time. My bitty baby and I had to make it on our own. We traveled everywhere together, and I soon was filling our days with play dates, library story times and trips to the park. Everything I did revolved around her and she thanked me by being the easiest and most mild mannered baby in the world.

I spent money we did not have on color coordinated bows and little ruffly socks. She had short curly blond hair that would bounce around her head as she moved and a smile that could draw the attention of strangers from across the room. She very simply was a beautiful child. I loved being her mommy. It was more fun than I could ever imagine it would be.

Because I was such a young mom, I remembered so vividly my childhood. I put all of my focus on duplicating what had been pleasant and avoiding at all costs the things that could cause her hurt. I was determined to be the best mommy ever. I was going to give my bitty baby the best life ever!

Over the years Ems and I have stayed uniquely close. We have always had a very open dialog and I have made it clear to her that no matter what, she will always be my baby and I will always love her. We have made each other angry at times but it never takes long for the offending party to come to the other with an unsolicited apology. She has shared with me that some of her friends had very strained relationships with their parents and that she was so thankful for Tucker and I. Everyone has warned me that once she became a teenager, our happily ever after connection would end, but I was convinced that Emily and I would be different.

Now my bitty baby is 13. Just hearing myself say that puts a knot in my stomach. 13. My little girl with the matching bows and bouncy hair, is suddenly a lean, beautiful independent thinking young woman. She fascinates me. As close as we are, she and I are so very different. She is extremely preppy and smart and organized; none of those qualities have ever been used to describe her mother. Still, she respects me and loves me the way I am, and I... well, I am in utter awe of her.

I know that there will come a time in her life where the apron strings will be cut. She may go away to school or even marry and move to another place one day. (gasp, gasp) The thought breaks my heart, although I know whatever decisions she makes for her self will be well thought out and prayed over; for that I am so thankful.

She is not a bitty baby anymore, but in my heart she always will be. She will always be the tiny little person who taught me how to mother and to give unselfishly. She will always be the first person to show me truly unconditional love. She really is the person who taught me most about myself.

We are still very close, despite the inevitable teenage angst. On occasion she will snuggle with me and we still talk about matters of the heart and mind, but it is becoming clear that she is able to rely on her old momma less. She has a core group of friends who are now her "go to people." Hanging out with mom is now not nearly as fun as it once was, and I hate to admit it, but I have gotten "the look" more than I care to recall. You all know the look in which I speak- the "You have got to be kidding me, you crazy monster from another planet look." Each time she shoots me "the look" I want to say, "but Ems, it's ME, remember?? Your momma, the one who you think knows everything and the person who you would rather be with than anyone else in the whole wide world! Remember??"

Yep, she is growing up, my bitty baby. I really couldn't be more proud of the person she is choosing to become. Oh, my sweet Emily. I am so proud and just a little heartbroken.

My Love is a Fire

I am a moody person. No, really, it's true. Back "in the day" I saw my moodiness as a really cool gateway into the world of everything artistic. I tried to channel all of those youthful feelings of angst into radical enlightenment. That's right, dude, life was way groovy. I could sit in my bed room for days and listen to the same Dead Cd over and over again and feel hypnotized and euphoric. It was a drugless high and I was an addict.


I really do miss those moments of being completely lost in the moment; being able to get so enraptured by something that the rest of the world ceases to exist for a little while. Recognizing how much I sound like a whacked out drug addict at this moment, I digress.

On occasion I still can get in a music fog like I once did, but never anywhere near as heady. It's hard to really have music envelop your heart and soul when at the same time you have someone in one direction yelling to have his bottom wiped while in the other direction a wrestling match over the remote control is underway. All the while the phone is ringing.
"Come here, Uncle John's Band..." yeh, it's good but let's face it- it's not the same.

I'm okay with not be a transcendental hippie anymore. Really, I am. I know there comes a time when actually "dealing" with problems, opposed to brooding over them is a more appropriate response. I can reach truth without hours of monotonous stereo play. It comes in different ways now. But, I still miss those days of endless heartfelt deliberations.

A little over a year ago Tucker and Jim built a fire pit in the backyard. You see, Janet is an absolute fire genius and my kids and I always marvel at how she can make flames come from just about nothing. In fact, I believe I once overheard one of my children telling a friend, "My Aunt Janet breathes fire." Anyway, it was a spur of the moment decision one day, that the men would take some extra brick we had lying around and try and dig out a little pit. That night we had an outdoor fire. It was spectacular!

Over the course of the past year we have used that pit more than I think anyone expected. When we have something to celebrate- let's drink beer around the fire, company in town- we should have a fire, day off from school- let's roast marshmallows by the fire...and so it goes.

I have come to realize that that impromptu fire pit has become an outlet for me much in the same way that music was all those years ago. I tenderly build a strong base in which to begin the fire, I nurture the flames by adding wood or straw, I blow from underneath the flames to keep the oxygen circulating, and I get extremely defensive and protective when anyone steps up to "really get it going." And let me tell you- Everyone seems to think they are experts in fire building. Everyone. Usually I quietly take a backseat until they reduce my fire to a pile of smoldering logs, and then I gladly reclaim my position as fire monitor.

I can sit by the fire for hours. And I mean hours. I could do nothing all day, but tend to the fire and watch as the flames dance in the air. I inhale deeply as I breathe in the smokey outside air, convinced that somehow I am breathing in rejuvenating magic. And I sit, and I sit, and I sit. If there is someone out there for me to talk to, I will. And usually the conversations are honest and open and important, as if that is all that can exist around my sacred place. If I am alone, then I am happy alone; out there just me and the fire.

I can't believe of all things in my life that would bring me to a place of peace and reflection that makeshift pit in the yard would be the one. But it has.
And I am so very thankful.

Take Me out to the Soccer Field

Because we had so much empty space to fill in our lives, we decided to sign up the 3 year old for soccer. Well, that's not exactly true. Our soccer complex recently started a U4 division, (that is under 4 for all of you non-soccer savvy peeps) and since their practices just so happens to coincide with one of the 20 times we are at the fields each week anyway, we decided to give it a shot.
Patch has grown up on the fields. Soccer has been a huge part of our family since well before he was conceived and he was only a few months old when he went to his first game. He has watched as Louie and then Charlie have toddled their way up and down the field chasing after those balls. When he began walking, he insisted that he, too, had some little ball out there to kick around. A few seasons ago, our league began to phase out the old uniforms for a new style. As Lou and Charlie got their new duds, Patch became the happy recipient of their cast offs. He was so enamoured with them that he would often sleep in them or wear them to school despite the fact that he could fit at least two of his little friends in there with him!!
So the chance to get him out there, intentionally and purposely was really exciting. His first practice was this past Monday. He got his official U4 soccer tshirt (with smiley face soccer ball emblazoned on it) and was assigned his "country"- Italy. Then the head coach called all the little players to sit on the field and listen for instructions. Forty-five 3 and 4 year olds gathered around and hung on this man's every word. They sat still and listened intently to what they would be doing. It was surreal! These little people were so excited to be there, that they weren't gonna risk the chance of having to leave by misbehaving in any way!!
The countries all split up, (so much for the United Nations, huh?)and went out to "practice." This included everything from playing duck, duck goose while dribbling a ball, to playing freeze tag. Essentially they were learning skills the only way kids that age can...through trickery!! But it was fantastic, and they had such a great time!
By the end of practice Little Man was whooped but so very happy! He woke up bright and early the next morning asking if it was another practice day!

The kids have been back in school for a month now and tomorrow is Labor Day. Although the official end to summer is still a couple of weeks away, the summer "as we know it" has come to an end.
Due to the recession's unwelcome presence in our life, this is the first summer in a long time where we vacationed solely at home. Both Tucker and I commented on how much we enjoyed ourselves despite the lack of out of town plans and our busy work schedules. We really made an effort to hang out a lot as a family at the pool and in the yard with the occasional weenie/marshmallow roast. We learned this summer, that vacationing is not about packing a suitcase and traveling by car or plane. We were able to channel that vacationing spirit at home with each other, being silly and cheering each other on.

Talkin' Dirty

God sure got me good. He gave me two shiny, sweet smelling baby girls first. They wore beautiful dresses to school and ALWAYS had coordinating hair bows. I reveled in giving them teensie weensie manicures on their itty bitty hands. Life was peaches and cream.
I was excited about having Charlie; up for the challenge. I heard all of the cliches that compare boys to girls. I was not going to buy into those horrid stereotypes. I was, after all, Supermom.
At a really early age, (I'm talkin' fresh outta the hospital, people) I was amazed how sweaty Charlie's little feet were; sweaty AND stinky! My newborn son had smelly feet! Surely not, but oh, yes. Over, the next weeks I was amazed how much dirt would accumulate in his tiny fists and between his toes. I bathed this kid on a regular basis, and it wasn't like he was running any marathons. Dirty, dirty, dirty.
To really drive home the joke, God bestowed upon us a second little stinker. We hadn't seen anything yet! Patch, or Patchy-Poo, as he is commonly referred to, has been the end all be all of dirty, little boys. Picture this Rockwellesque painting: adoring family sitting, gazing at the newborn longingly when suddenly out of nowhere emanates a strong sulfuric odor slowly filling the room. One by one, family members tuck their noses in their shirts and exchange their loving glances to ones of horror. How could that smell come from such a tiny person!!!??? Patch's "teachers" at school quickly realized the ONLY way to feed him without ruining his clothes, was to strip him down to his diaper; even then, somehow he managed to soil clothes that were 10 feet away.
Boys are just like that, I am learning. They thrive in filth and stinkiness. I would love to say my husband is different, but the truth is that he is "just one of the boys." No matter how many toys, books or games they may have, at the end of the day nothing beats a puddle of water or a pile of leaves. The more "one with the filth" they can be the better. A truly successful day is one where they are able to turn their bath water several shades darker.
Despite the seemingly magnetic reaction boys(and men) have to all things gross, we members of grime-opposed gender still love them. Perhaps because of their "condition" we love them more because it gives us something to work on with them. There is a definite sense of accomplishment when you pluck one of these playful ogres out of the swamp and turn them into Prince Charming- even if only for a few hours!

Top Ironies of the Week

1. We are actually way FURTHER behind on things that have to be done after being off work for a week.

2. I am looking forward to returning to work so that I can rest a little.

3. My dogs are currently the healthiest members of the household.

4. The two children I took to the doctor this morning, are now sicker than they were when they were seen.

5. Every year around tax refund time, something catastrophic falls into disrepair around the house. This year the air conditioner died before the ink dried on our balance statement. I'm wondering if this is what is referred to as a "Government Stimulus Package." I have been secretly looking out the window for little men in dark coats and black sunglasses trying to damage my property.

6. My husband, who rejected youth in favor of acting "wise beyond his years," has now decided to grow his curly hair out so he will more closely resemble his two year old son.

7. My daughter received some misguided information that Tina Fey was actually a political factor in the past Presidential election. As I explained to her Tina's real role, I felt an odd sense of pride that perhaps her spoofs did turn things in Obama's favor.

8. In a news story on the Today Show this morning, it was revealed that people who get enough rest are less likely to gain superfluous weight. Dude, I could be killing two birds with one stone. Sign me up.

9. The fact that all the kids have been sick is actually affording Tucker and I more face time with one another.- No Soccer!

10. Despite all the germs, fevers, lack of money, superfluous poundage and all of the political tensions existing in the world, (read:Don't defriend me and I won't defriend you) I am so very thankful for my life and am pretty happy with the way things are.

Joke's on Me!

I love to whine and complain. Well, not really, I just seem to do it a lot, so here I go.
I feel like I NEVER see my husband between our myriad of extra jobs and various extra curriculars for the kids. We are constantly busy and are often two ships who pass in the night only to make sure that we are indeed coming home at night. In moments of clarity I tell myself that this is the life we have chosen to provide the best we can for the family while not ultimately selling out ourselves and our dreams. There is something almost romantic about working your tail off to join forces and raise a family with the guy you met when you were 18 years old. That being said, the more realistic and bitter Caroline, the one who usually dominates, is just really irritated that we work twice as hard for half as much, but whatever....
Tuck and I have been so looking forward to this week off; talk about visions of grandeur. We were going to sleep in and work on the house and have awesome quality family time. We were determined to not feel as though our precious time off was squandered.
God has such a sense of humor!
Immediately after Spring Break began kids began getting sick everywhere. Every time I turned around a coughy, sneezy offspring turned up with a fever. Easter morning brunch consisted of everyone slouching in the booth at the restaurant and our entire meal being boxed in to go containers. Later that afternoon, Tuck took the "least ill" of the kids to his dad's house for the festivities. As I sat in my house that afternoon, I began to wonder if I too was getting sick. "Boy, I'm starting to feel really hot. I'm like Waaay hot! What is the deal?" Yes, friends, that's right the air conditioner decided to die at that very moment. Sigh.
Two days and two thousand dollars later we once again have cold air.

So, the best made plans are not written in stone. Sometimes good intentions remain intentions only. The reason we work twice as hard is so that when emergencies arrive, we will only be half as much behind.

I'm sure glad God has such a sense of humor, it makes me feel like maybe mine won't get me in as much trouble!

Happy Easter

When I was a kid, dyeing eggs was always such a big deal. We would all have our allotment of eggs to dye and we would try to make it last forever. For that half an hour or so my sister and brother and I would use perfect manners; "I need the yellow when you are done," and "ohhh, that is so pretty!" Every year my brother saved his last egg to be the "ugly egg." He would systematically dye it in each of the colors as many times as it took for it to turn brown. Usually, by the time he was done, not only was the color hideous, but the shell was smashed as well!
Preparing the egg dye for my kids always brings me back to those days. Last night the four of them sat at the kitchen table and colored their eggs. The techniques surely differed from child to child, but the results were all marvelous! Patch especially got into the action this year, dumping multiple eggs in the same cup at the same time. It seemed his goal was not a pretty egg, but rather a large, messy splash. (He succeeded in both fronts) Even Em, who is increasingly becoming way too cool to take part in such family togetherness, seemed to really enjoy herself.
So now we have just under 2 dozen beautiful eggs in the fridge. (a few didn't make it passed the dyeing process) I see a lot of egg salad in our future.

Baby Big Boy

"Bubby" has turned 6 and represents everything Patch wants to be; except potty trained, that is.
I have been called the "Potty Training Nazi" in some circles. I wear the honor proudly. My first three babies potty trained effortlessly and I also have helped dozens upon dozens of my little friends master this feat. Then came Patchy. As I have mentioned before, everything I ever thought I knew about anything flew out the window when he was born.
He goes potty; if he wants to. He is perfectly content to hang onto his little baby status as long as he possibly can. His two big sisters do everything they possibly can do to reaffirm his baby-ness to him. It seems they are all in favor to keep him little forever as well. But less face it folks, he will be a whole lot less cute at six years old, when he has to leave the soccer field so that his mommy can change his diaper.
So, I have resulted in the time honored tradition of bribery. I'm not proud. Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do. The deal is, when he is "fully potty-trained," that is completely trustworthy in underwear, then we will go to the store and he can pick out a Nerf Gun. The kid who won't use the bathroom is being bribed with a gun. Seems a little like a serial killer in the making, huh?
Bubby has a Nerf Gun and Patch thinks it is the coolest thing in the world. We are hoping he makes the connection between Bubby being a big boy who goes potty and the fact that Bubby has the much coveted toy. We'll see. He's making progress. Slowly- but progress is progress.

Snowy Blessings

I am such a homebody. I could be perfectly happy to stay in my cozy, little world for the rest of my days without ever venturing beyond the outer limits. But with the entirety of my family being outside of my immediate area, travel is necessary from time to time. Because the school system is so graciously furloughing my husbands work days, we had a block of days off in mid-February that we used to travel to North Carolina to see my family. (Well, really my nieces, but the rest of the family too!)
Imagine our surprised when we were blessed with a beautiful snow fall!! Not only did the kids get to enjoy rarely seen snow, but they were able to do so in the company of their cousins!! The 6 kids looked out the window Friday night as the snow fell, anxiously waiting for their time in the white stuff. When the morning finally came around my sister, Beth, had to scrounge around the house for enough boots, mittens and the like for all of the children. (as well as her ill-prepared sister!!)
Together the six kids made snow angels, and ran around in a flurry of activity. In quieter moments they all sampled the deliciousness of the cold treat.
Snow for a child, in any circumstance, is such a blessing and whirlwind of excitement, but for "the cousins" it was made doubly so, because they were able to enjoy it together. It really went along way to remove the sting of traveling for me!

Doing our Jobs

In Mitch Ablom's Book Five People You Meet In Heaven, he talks about how children are like glass balls. We, as parents, must handle these balls with all the care possible. Some parents may smudge the glass a bit, but leave it translucent and intact. However other parents, are careless and irreparably damage the once beautiful glass until it is no longer recognizeable as what it once was. Of all of the things I have read in my life, this passage is one of the very most memorable to me.
Every person on this earth starts out the same; as little, tiny babies, innocent and new. Somewhere along the way of life, these babies grow and change. They become less innocent, less "cute," and less easy to forgive. They become REAL people.
I have been in the "children business" for the entirety of my adult life. Not only have I been raising my own, but I have been a part of hundreds of children's lives. I have seen the glass ball metaphor play out in so many ways. It is truly humbling that the behavior of adults has such an enormous impact not only behavior of children, but also who those children turn out to be. Humbling and scary.
Even Ablom attests to the fact that all of us have a certain amount of damage on our glass. It is impossible, regardless of how well intentioned a parent is, to be raised flawlessly and without being negatively impacted in some way. All of us have "our issues." As children, we all have experienced our own balls "being scuffed" a little. As parents, as painful as it is to admit, we all have at one time or another made a mistake (or intentionally did something) that left a mark on a child's glass. It is inevitable. We are human and it is impossible for anyone to grow up completely unscathed. But for most of us we see our mistakes as opportunities and warnings from God to turn things around. These are our children. It is our job to raise them to be the best people they can be, and to lift them up with love.
I have seen far too many times, that the desperate and overflowing outpouring of love one has for their children seems to dry up as that child leaves infancy. Mom starts speaking in a harsher tone, and always seems inconvienced. Dad is too busy and thinks his kid is uncool. The newness of the child has worn off and now they are stuck with this kid. I am not speaking of abuse or neglect. Really it is about simple and basic respect. God gave us these children. We need to show love and respect to our kids at all times. We do not get a pass if we have had a bad day or our child is getting on our nerves.
It always seems that the very people who need to worry about negatively affecting their children are the ones who either don't have a clue or a care. The result is often the very sad writing on the wall of a two or three year old child. It is so heartbreaking and tragic.
We are their parents, folks. We need to do the absolute best job we can with these kids. They are not just possessions we acquired when it was envouge to start procreating. Their lives now will have impacts on generations to come. We can not take this job lightly. These children need our unconditional love.
As I climb down from my soapbox I want reitterate that I am speaking of love. pure love. This is not about showering your child with expensive clothes and toys. We all need to spend some time inside the minds and hearts of our kids to find out what they really need. Most of the time the answer is simple. They just need us.

Oh, Charlie...

Charlie has always been a relatively docile kid with the very occasional whiny spell. You can usually count on him to tell on himself if he does something naughty, because the wrongness of whatever he did really gets to him. Overall, he has really just been a dependable, all around good kid who stays out of trouble.
The other day, in an attempt to straighten the house, I told him to go cut off the balloons that had been tied to the knobs of his dresser for weeks. They had long since died and now were only strangulation hazards waiting to be discovered. I braced myself for some protesting on his part, because he loves balloons, but he was all to happy to oblige and off to the bedroom with the scissors he went.
The house remained a flurry of activity for the next hour or so. I was in the process of cookie decorating, the kids were all putting things away, and Tucker was doing laundry. We had ordered Chinese delivery earlier so that we would not have to stop our "productiveness" to cook a meal. The Chinese arrived and everyone excitedly sat down to the table to eat. There the six of us sat, passing around the different dishes and sauces and talking about our day. The Norman Rockwell family moment was ruined when Emily very innocently asked, "Did Charlie get a haircut?" Huh? Uh, no?
The entire table panned their eyes towards Charlie who is sitting in his chair with a butchered new do. "But my hair was in my eyes" he said. He instantly got upset because he knew he had been naughty, but we reassured him though it is never okay to cut anything but paper without permission, that we loved him and his hair would grow back. Eventually.
So it took us over an hour to realize what he had done which doesn't make me feel like the most together mother in the world. He continued to apologize all night until I told him I wanted to take his picture so I could exploit his mischievousness on facebook. My, how the mighty have fallen. Oh, Charlie!

The "Whipping" Boy

Patch. He is "whipped" as they say. The object of his love is a little girl, appropriately named Caroline. When he sees her everything makes sense inside that fuzzy, little head of his.
Caroline, who is called Sis by her friends and family, is the daughter of a good friend of mine. She is not your average run of the mill two year old. Since she was teenie-tiny, Sis has had a spunk about her. If she's not happy, you know. If she is bored, you know. If she thinks you look funny, you know. If she just wants to have nothing to do with you, you know. She is the most opinionated little tike I have ever met. Her mother says she's moody, I say she's hysterical. It is like talking to a 14 year old inside a two year old's body!
Patch loves Sis. He thinks she is THE greatest person in the world. He talks about her all of the time, and at school he seeks her out. He has such an overwhelming love for her. Problem is he gets on her nerves! She doesn't want him near her, but like a little puppy he keeps coming back. Her mother asked if Patch was her "boyfriend." Sis said no very vehemently, but acquiesced and said Patch was her "boy." As in "No need to lift a finger, my 'boy' will handle it." Patch could not be happier to fill that position in her life.
Every once in awhile, when no one is looking, Sis has fun with Patch. They will sing together or play together or just act like normal stinky two year olds together. For a moment everything is right with the world. Then Sissy decides Patch really is as annoying as she originally thought and goes back to snubbing him. The beauty of their relationship is that Patch doesn't care. He loves Sissy exactly the way that she is. (and probably BECAUSE of the way that she is!) He never gets his feelings hurt or becomes timid around her. He even has been known to say, "Sissy, you being ugly!" He will always be there for his friend because he just loves her that much, and he knows deep down she loves him, too!

All in the Family

My mother had 3 kids in 3 1/2 years. The thought of putting my body through that, sends it into shock. But that was how we grew up; like stair steps. (until my brother outgrew my sister, which happened pretty early on) Despite the unavoidable sibling bickering, we still managed to play together those early years. My sister Beth tells the story of how we used to play Star Wars. She, of course, was Princess Leia, Bryan acted as Hans Solo, and I played the role of "baby storm trooper." Then of course there are the memories of "baptizing" our dolls in the bathroom sink. What Catholic child does not share in this? And who could forget the ten plus hour drives to and from Pennsylvania in the back of the station wagon.? The three of us would cram in like sardines; constantly shifting in the hopes that somehow a comfortable position would possibly be found.
Fast forward.
My sister has two beautiful little girls. They are both special and unique, yet both have unmistakable likenesses to my sister. I had the pleasure of having her girls stay with me for a week this summer. At times, as I looked into one of her daughters' eyes or listened as they spoke, I felt like I was being pulled back 25 years to the days of those cramped back seats. I saw things in her girls that I didn't remember I knew, and wouldn't have expected to be refamiliarized with. As different as my nieces are from my sister, as well as each other, the commonalities they share are incredible.
It really is an amazing thing, that our children carry with them so much of us. They are literally pieces of who we are. Their children will be pieces of them. For better or for worse, we do go on.
As I look back on the hundreds of pictures I took of my 4 children as well as my sister's two, I see two parrallel childhoods; the one I shared with my siblings, and the one our children will share together. The gift of family truly transcends the here and now. Family, no matter how often you are with them, how readily you accept them, or how strong the bond, is always within you. The thought, really should inspire us all to be the type of family that anyone would chose.

My Patchy

My baby is almost two.
After having 4 kids, I can finally say that I will never have another. After each prior child, I never felt certain whether or not it would be my last. But we know now, without a doubt, Patch is the last.
I love being a mom, and I have great kids. I remember how I found out I was pregnant with each one of them. I remember the circumstances in which Tucker and I came up with their names. I remember all of the details of each of my pregnancies as if they have just occurred. I can retell my labor and delivery stories over and over and over again. Although, I often didn't feel well, being pregnant and having my babies has been among the most fulfilling things I have ever done.
That book is closed. No more pregnancy tests stashed in the back of the bathroom closet. I can pack up the mountains of pregnancy and baby name books we have acquired in the 10 years it took us to create our family. I will never again have use for those itsy-bitsy onesies, that look so tiny until your baby is born and then are just swimming on him.
I was watching Patch today. He really is phasing out of babyhood. He wants so much to be big like his siblings, it seems he is intentionally speeding up the maturing process! He talks as if he is the authority, and I really need to remind myself that he is only a baby! But baby no more. My little guy is growing up. And as he grows up, so must I. I am no longer that "young mom" who is just starting her family. That phase of MY life is over. Did I subconsciously enjoy that phase so much that I kept it going by procreating? Geez, I hope not!!
Regardless of how old my baby is he will ALWAYS be my baby. (As all of my children will be) Though the realization of him growing up is bittersweet, I am equally as excited to see what is in store for him. His future is limitless, and I believe he has the personality that will seize every moment.
I just don't even know how to end this. Excited for the possibilities that await my littlest one, or melancholy over the end of an era? (gulp) I just really don't know. I think maybe it just doesn't have to end...

Ch-Ch-Ch Changes

This will go down in history as the summer we changed everything. Well, hopefully not everything, but we are doing a whole lot of home improvements. In addition to the kitchen remodel, we have hired a landscaping company to clear out and grade the backyard. It was a collection of massive over growth, and it will be so nice when there will be such room for the kids to run around!! To get the job done, the landscaper has brought in 2 giant, tractory-looking machines. I'm not sure what they are, but the kids sure were excited to see that they had been left behind after the workers called it a day. All 4 kids enjoyed hopping up inside for photo-ops. (Although, I'm quite sure that was not why they were left!!)

Falling in Love... All Over Again

I teach preschool. It wasn't what I had anticipated for my life but it is just the way things have worked out. I can't really imagine doing anything else. These kids become my kids, and I truly somehow, fall in love with each and every one.
I have a tough age group by preschool standards. The dreaded "Terrible Twos." There are days when I really do go home wanting to pull my hair out, but for the most part, my days are filled with little miracles. I have always felt that during the 2-3 year, kids change and develop so rapidly. I am able to witness these babies turning into "real people." I really count myself fortunate. It really is something to watch.
Every year I fall in love. Sometimes especially with a special one or few, and sometimes with the entire lot, but I always end the year feeling like there will never be kids I could love as much as those little ones who will now be leaving me. Every year it happens. I feel so torn as my little friends grow up and leave me for greener pastures, but so very proud of all that they have done in the past year.
This year has been a challenging one. I went from a relatively small group of "older twos" last year, to a large group of late birthdays. It was really an adjustment. But the triumphs were there, and the miracles were there, and so was the love.
I started back to teach summer school today. The majority of my class from this past year will be with me as well as some new friends. One child who I have had all year long, came back after just one week away a completely different person. Suddenly she grew up. It was truly a blessing to have been able to see that. They are only little for such a very short time, I am so grateful to be a small part of their lives. Truly.
I have such a heavy heart when I think of these kids who I have bonded with for a year, being under someone else's watchful eye in the fall. In many ways, they feel like MY kids, and I don't want to let them go. But I know that I am just a brief stop in their long journey, and I am so excited for them to continue on.
So, in a couple months, a new school year will usher in a whole new class. And inevitably I will start the year homesick for those who have moved on. But so it goes. And in the end, I'm sure I will do as I always do, and fall in love all over again.

Where Does the Time Go?

"Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives." (Cue the music)
I just got done talking to my friend Tom. His little girl and Charlie have been together in preschool since the beginning of time. I have watched his tiny, little girl, grow up into a feisty, vivacious, and opinionated little person. He has watched my little guy as he has broken each arm, and still somehow managed to survive. We are a close-knit family at our preschool. We love one another's kids, and we relish in the fact that everything has been the same, year after year.
Tom was talking about how he hates how "official" kindergarten sounds. Say it...KINDERGARTEN...doesn't it just send chills up your spine? Next year our little ones will fly from their cozy nests where they have been for so long together and find new nests, all over, away from all that is familiar. (...momentary pause due to hyperventilating) No longer will I be able to count on this family to watch after my boy when I can not. I will not be able to see the sweet and funny little changes in my friends' children as they grow day to day. They will see each other again, I'm sure, but the safe little cocoon will no longer be.
How does this happen? I just delivered Charlie yesterday. I remember as clear as day. (How could I forget, Tucker just about delivered him!!) He was the little boy we were sure would never be given my family's female-dominated gene pool. He just learned to walk, he just learned to go potty, he was just a baby a second ago. Now, all of a sudden, without my knowledge or permission, someone took my little boy and forced him to grow up, and now they are going to throw him in the bureaucratic world that is kindergarten. NO!!!
....I digress. This cocoon, this family that Charlie has known for so many years is exactly what he needed to be able to take this step. He feels safe and secure enough to be able to step out and test the waters. What he learned at preschool far surpasses the ABCs and 1,2,3s. He gained the sense of self he needs to move on and fly to that next nest. I know the transition would not be as seamless had he not had such a warm and loving environment to pave the way.
Charlie will be fine. Tom's little girl will be fine. All of the little kids they have grown up with will be just fine, too. Of this I am convinced. Now us, the mommies and the daddies, I'm not so sure of.

Friends Forever

I have four children. Everyone who knows me, knows I'm that lady with the four kids. When we descend upon a grocery store or a public event, the world seems to know it. That being said, I have 4 of the most well behaved children I know. (and in my line of work I know A LOT of children!!) But still, no matter how good they can be, there is still four of them, and I often get those "haven't you figured out where they come from yet?" comments.
I really enjoy being a mom. It is the best thing I have ever done, although I have had some challenges as of late. Apparently, having 4 kids, fairly spaced out in age, presents unique challenges. For example, the 11 year old is on her cell phone, conducting very important business, while in the background the 1 year old is asking for a clean diaper. Alternate universes. It can be a lot to handle.
So, as I try to do in everything, I look for that proverbial silver lining; the nugget of inspiration and hope to carry me through.
All of us went to a party tonight for one of Patch's little school buddies. It was an outdoor party, and the kids spent 2 hours running around in the Georgia heat, and loving every moment. By the time we packed up to leave, our little Patchy had really begun to melt down from exhaustion. His daddy was holding him and talking so sweetly to him, yet all he would cry out for was "Lou Lou." (his name for his sister, Elizabeth) The 8 year old did what neither Daddy or Mommy was capable of at the time, and calmed him down and comforted him as we got in the car and drove home. Once home, and clean, my daughter and my son, snuggled up and fell asleep. Together. All is right with the world.
So, yes, being the mom of 4 is hairy at times. I get frustrated and overwhelmed and feel under appreciated. But tonight I was reminded what an awesome gift God has given me and my husband and children. We have the gift of each other. My kids will ALWAYS have their siblings. When Tucker and I are old, and go crazy, as is inevitable, I'm beginning to believe, they will have each other to lean on. We have each other to learn from, and to grow from- to play with and to spat with. We enhance each other's lives.
Whether it is just a much needed bedtime snuggle, or a personal crisis, we are friends in the truest form-forever.