I like getting mothers day gifts.
I love hearing my children tell me I’m the best.
I love acknowledging other women.
There really isn’t a lot I don’t like about mothers day. Except the beginning and the end.
I want someone to quietly usher the kids out of my bedroom and then sneak them back in with breakfast on a tray. Then I want that someone to take us out for dinner, give the kids a bath and let me curl up with my book for the rest of the night while he handles bedtime.
I really don’t mind it 99% of the time. One day a year though I really, really, really want someone to share this job with.
I woke up thirty minutes before my alarm went off. Mostly because Colm had woken up and was smothering me, but nevertheless. I was up early. So I took full advantage of this opportunity.
I set Colm up with cartoons and cereal and went to make myself gorgeous. About halfway through my routine, Elizabeth woke up and joined Colm. I started instructing them to get dressed and with a few helpful suggestions we found weather appropriate clothing for the three of us.
I proceeded to get Elizabeth her breakfast, both children their ‘fruits and veggies’, and pack up snacks for the day.
Elizabeth brought me her homework to sign off on, both children put their own shoes and backpacks on, and we walked out the door at 7:50 am.
I didn’t raise my voice once. We had zero meltdowns. This morning was an anomaly. I pray we can have more of these. I like feeling like a super mom
Elizabeth loves anything Christmas. It’s May? Who cares, she wants to watch Santa baby. She loves summertime too though and has recently discovered H20 where three teen girls become mermaids anytime they get wet.
She had decided that she should just get candy for meals instead of anything with good nutritional value. Although she reminds me at the crack of dawn that she needs her “fruits and veggies” (aka juice plus).
She is a planner. I think she will be an event planner someday and will be filthy stinking rich. Because she is SO. DANG. GOOD. Creativity and details flow through her. Which is probably why she is ambidextrous.
She has two boyfriends in class, Caleb and Ayden. I wouldn’t mind either of them as my son in law.
She has started selling her art. To anyone that will listen to her. However, her giving spirit hasn’t faded. She made a gentleman’s day when she gave him a drawing with the words “I love you, Elizabeth” on top. He tracked me down later to thank me and tell me what a blessing my baby girl is.
Again, I don’t want to forget these things. I want these memories to stay. For always. Because so much is changing as I write these words.
Colm loves The Lorax, Jumanji, and The Care Bears.
He doesn’t like bread and if given a sandwich or a hot dog, he will eat the fillings, not the bread.
He’s intrigued by the idea of going to a big boy potty, but once faced with the actual task he kind of freaks out.
He’s okay with going to his own bed at night but at some point he will rejoin me in my bed with the sole purpose of giving me a hug and kiss and then wrapping his arms around me. It’s almost like he knows how much I hate sleeping alone.
His vocabulary is expanding at an alarming rate. He brought home a “cab” (crab) from preschool today. Elizabeth has a new name, “abes”.
He wants juice for every meal. Not with his meal, FOR his meal.
I don’t want to forget any of this. So I’m writing it down.
It appears that there are two types of people in my church.
Let me set the scene for you.
Ryan is preaching on becoming bridge builders as opposed to becoming wall builders. He’s making great points, engaging his congregation as only he can with public speaking skills. Everyone is focused, jotting down notes, a few amens here and there.
And then. You hear it. The babbling and cooing from a child around 1 year of age.
And the two types of people become clear.
The parents who either have children that age or have not forgotten what that age was like.
And non parents or parents who have forgotten.
I fall in the first category. With my knowing smile, I remember that stage. I hope I never forget.
Colm doesn’t like Nicki Minaj. We’ve determined that.
Guess what else I’ve determined?
He LOVES Hunter Hayes. Like, really loves him. With his growing vocabulary, this Moose of mine can sing ‘Wanted’ with very few mistakes.
Oh, and he sings very well. I might have a future Michael Buble in the making.
“Then sings my soul, my Savior God to thee!
How great thou art, how great thou art!”
This is the moment I can feel her. My grandma. She’s in heaven, restored whole, singing with me. I can see her, hear her, feel her.
I remember those last weeks and days. But I don’t remember being scared for her, wondering what was going to happen after she left us.
Because I wasn’t scared. She was confident in her faith and her confidence spilled over to me.
And now when I sing I have zero doubt that grandma is up in heaven. Singing her favorite hymn. All. day. long.
I love that picture.
Even if I tear up when I think of it.
I may or may not have turned Nicki up this morning and sang my heart out while taking Colm to preschool…
One thing is for sure though. I flipped the mirror down to see if he was rockingb out with me.
In fact, his eyes were abnormally large.
I turned the music down.
“Hey Moose, what’s up?”
“Whoa mom. Loud. Ears.”
He proceeded to cover his ears.
I guess I’ll find another playlist for the Moose.
They have a used book fair going on at Bear Canyon Elementary, $1 per book. So I took the opportunity to expand the kids library and assist in funding of the new reading curriculum for next year.
There were so. many. books.
But one caught my eye.
Don’t EAT the teacher! By Nick Ward
With an adorable great white shark with a book bag on the front cover.
I could not resist. Over 15 years later, my obsession with the misunderstand creature has evolved and my children are now being subjected to my never ending love for the great white shark. In the form of fictional children’s books.
And it’s working.
Colm, my child who is figuring out his words, ran up to me this morning book in hand.
“Shark! Ma! Shark!”
Full word. With the ‘k’ emphasized at the end.
He’s got this.
“Mommy! Colm isn’t picking up his toys, he’s picking up the shoes and I’M picking up the shoes! ”
“Elizabeth just pick up and appreciate that he’s helping at all.”
“No buts Elizabeth, stop throwing a temper tantrum or you’re going to get a time out.”
“Colm! Stop picking up what I’m picking up! Colm! Stop asking me questions! Argh!!! Colm, just pick up your toys!”
“That’s it Elizabeth. Five minutes in the corner. Now.”
A friend just asked me if I was just tired or if the kids were acting up. I responded that yes, the kids are acting like typical brother and sister and yes I am tired.
But being tired is a permanent side effect of parenthood.