Before the World Went Mad

It was the first week of March.  The virus was spreading but still seemed manageable somehow.  China was far away.  Aaron was in Australia on business.  I had exactly 2 concerns:  Would he get quarantined upon return to the U.S., and where were we going for spring break?

Aaron loves planning trips, and I hate it.  Since he's been so busy with work recently, we hadn't booked a thing for spring break.  Now it was just a few days away, and I was scrambling.  I booked a campsite (literally the only one left in a 5-mile radius) only to cancel it after reading the rainy forecast.  6 people and a wet dog crammed into a smelly, damp tent for 5 days.  Um, no.

I remembered Aaron suggesting we visit a dude ranch while we lived in Texas this time around, embracing the local culture.  A quick Trip Advisor search lead me to the Silver Spur Guest Ranch ("guest" because visitors don't actually have to do the work on the ranch).  I didn't know where Bandera, TX was, and I didn't care.  All I cared about was that they could take us for 4 days and that there was only a chance of rain one of the days we'd be there.

Spring break arrived, and we spent the first few days at home.  Aaron was adjusting to our time zone again, kids were playing together, days were lazy and peaceful.  Thursday rolled around, and it was time to head the ranch.  We dropped Abby off at the dog sitter's house and hit the road.

Silver Spur Guest Ranch was amazing!  JUST what we needed.  Not a TV in sight.  Wifi was spotty and only available up at the main cabin.  The kids quickly embraced this screen-free world.  Playground, pool table, foosball, chess, horse shoes, fossil digging, hay rides, feeding animals, cafeteria style meals (where "you get what you get, and you don't pitch a fit"), 2 friendly, wandering donkeys (protecting the chickens from coyotes), cowboys singing campfire songs, s'more every night, reading, riding horses, bullwhip lessons, fresh baked cookies every day at 3:15.  This place was a little bit of heaven on earth.  Seriously the best family vacation we've taken in the States.

We even visited the historic downtown Bandera, the "cowboy capitol of the world."  General store, western wear, craft stores, and delicious coffee (with baby goats in the side yard of the cafe).  We can't wait to go back!

Maddie girl, now 11

Dear Maddie,
I suppose it's only fair your "birthday" post is 4 months late.  Your brothers might feel slighted if I actually completed yours closer to the actual date.  Your momma is a procrastinator.  I learned recently that procrastination could be evidence I am simply allowing my creative processes to unfold.  Yeah, we'er gonna go with that.  Thanks, NPR.

Anyway, enough about me.  How about you?  What a year you had!  Friendships, parties, sports, a move.  You have moved through it all with a beauty and grace that is astounding.  Your dad and I shake our heads when we talk about the little lady you have become.

Your 10th year of life was full of change.  You changed schools, churches, homes, neighborhoods, routines.  Moving is not your favorite thing.  You develop deep roots.  You value close physical ties with family and friends.  Quality time is one of your love languages.   When that quality time with a loved one is disrupted by a move, it hurts. 

It is my one of my heart's deepest desires that you will understand the reasons for our moves - that you will see them in the positive light that I do.  You are so very close to your brothers, and to me, and to dad.  I credit God and our moves for that.  Had we stayed in one spot, I think we never would have known just how close we could be.

And my dear, we are close.  My heart aches when I think of how much I love you.  I am gazing at your school picture on the wall as I type this.  One day we may look at this photo and giggle at the trendy background but never at your smile.  So open and genuine.  Sometimes when I consider all the pain in the world, I just want to wrap you in my arms and shield you forever.  But I know that is not your destiny.  You are here to bring light to the world.  You can and do already.

You are not a natural extrovert like your older brother.  You do not seek out attention or consider a room full of people to be an opportunity to make a huge group of friends.  You are careful and attentive.  You notice people.  You reach out to the new girl in school and offer encouragement.  You invite the girl at the party sitting all alone to come and join your group at the table.  You don't do these things because they are easy for you.  You do them because you have empathy.  Know that I see you, Maddie.  Every time.  I am so proud of you. 

You played basketball and volleyball for the first time this year.  It was so good for you.  It was great to have two very different coaches with different styles.  It was painful at times, but it was good for you to make mistakes, to be corrected, to learn that you aren't expected to have all the answers.  You handled yourself beautifully.  You never gave up, and you learned what you genuinely enjoy.  (We'll be doing volleyball again in the spring but probably not basketball.)

You are a joy to have at home.  You still tutor your younger brothers, setting up "school" upstairs, complete with a whiteboard, assignments, and a prize box.  You often ask, "What can I do to help?" when I'm making dinner.  You love to take Abigail Fluffypants on walks.  You love to study the Greek and Latin roots of words with your friend, Berklee, as you both bounce around the trampoline.  You have your evening routine (picking up your toys, brushing and flossing, reading, etc.) down to an exact science.  Your room, painted "Sprinkle," is a bright teal blue filled with furry rugs and pillows.  It is just like you, bright and warm and fuzzy. 

Maddie, I hope you can tell by reading this post that I am beyond thrilled to be your momma.  I know that this next year, from 11 to 12, will be even better than the last.  I love you so much, dear girl!  Happy birthday!

Birthday Catch Up - year 7

Dear Jacky-Jack,

I can't bring myself to write "Happy Birthday," as it's been months since the actual day.  This is more of a catch-up.  We are in the middle of a very hectic move during your actual birthday.  We had just moved into our temporary apartment.  You were happy as a clam, riding your scooter around and around the shared driveway next to the lake.  It was nice and hot, just the way you like it.  Since then, things have only improved...But that is the story of your 8 year old life.  Let's backtrack a bit.

Year seven had many ups and downs.  School was tough.  Staying in the lines (in the hallway and on paper) proved challenging for you.  You had a lovely teacher, Mrs. Stickle, but testing was hard, reading was tedious, and the cold weather took its toll.  Just before school ended we decided to meet with the teachers and consider an IEP (individualized education plan).  It didn't get completed before our move, and that was just as God planned.  (That is another story for next year's post!)

In March you faced the heartbreak of losing your very best friend, Graham, to a move.  Usually, we are the ones to move away.  Losing this dear boy, this kindred spirit full of creative energy and make-believe magic, rocked your little world.  You two could play for hours, engaged in secret worlds and ever-changing rules only the pair of you could decipher.  Our backyards were only separated by a path through the woods, so you were often together after school and on weekends.  We were so very sad to hear they were moving.  We had only met a few months prior.  He was like a bright little butterfly that flitted through our lives, and we will never forget him.

Though you faced many changes and challenges in your seventh year, there were many blessings not to be overlooked.  We finally cracked the code of the morning routine!  There were mornings, not just any mornings, but cold, winter mornings, where you actually didn't cry!  Thanks to the techniques taught to us by your occupational therapist, you managed your body and feelings and were able to leave for school with a smile on your face. 

Your day would begin up in your sea-mural room where you would be wrapped in your stretchy blue blanket.  I would place the large exercise ball on your feet, apply pressure, and begin to "make the pizza." 

"What do you want on your pizza?" I would ask as I leaned gently on the ball and rolled it up to your chest.

"Sauce," came the sleepy reply. 

"What else?" I'd ask, rolling it back down to your toes.

"Cheese."  This would continue until the ball had been rolled up and down your body as many times (and toppings) as it took to wake those big sleepy muscles.  Then I would grab your ankles and wheelbarrow walk you to the top of the stairs.  There you would walk (or sometimes I would carry you) all the way down to the basement where you'd be put in the swing for as many pushes and turns as you felt you needed.  Next we'd head over to the small, indoor trampoline for about 10 jumps.  By the time we headed up the stairs for breakfast, there would be no hint of tears or whining.  You'd eat your breakfast, get dressed, and head out the door.  It was a magic formula that was worth every extra minute.

Thanks to your new found ability to regulate your body via jumping, swinging, headstands, and other movements, you had more confidence.  You decided you wanted to sign up for basketball again - and you loved it.  You also really loved baseball.  You became a fantastic swimmer.  It's as if you grew into your body this year.  It was a beautiful thing to behold. 

I couldn't be more proud of you, son.  You are so special and unique.  I know in my heart that you have the ability to make this world a better place.  But will it let you? my mother's heart asks, anxious you may not be understood or appreciated.  Then I remember the lovely people God has already placed in your life who shatter that fear - Mrs. Stickle, Graham, coaches, your grandparents, your siblings.  These people see the real you and love you deeply, making my heart sing and worries fade.  As you skip through this life, I hope and pray that your focus will be on those who build you up and cherish you.  Know this, dear boy, you are loved and cherished and worthy, always.  Love, your momma.  

Caleb's 6 year birthday post

Dear Caleb,

It's 5:33 A.M., and I can't sleep.  All I can think about is how much I want to record your 5th year of life.  My memory is not fantastic, and I don't want to forget the details.  I know I won't capture everything that made your fifth year so special, but I at least want to give you a snapshot.  I want to preserve sweet little you.

I didn't think it was possible to love you more than I did the day you were born, but I was wrong.  This year with you was magical.  We decided to hold you back from kindergarten an extra year, to give you time to mature (and if I'm being totally honest, it was also because I wasn't emotionally ready to let my last baby go).  We sent you to St. John's Junior Kindergarten program.  It was a half day, four days a week.  You wowed us all with your math skills, handwriting, and love of learning.  It was the best of both worlds.  You got the stimulation and education you needed.  I had mornings to myself to clean, do laundry, volunteer, etc.  Then we had our afternoons together.

What a special time!  Our morning routine was so precious it brings tears to my eyes as I type.  After your siblings were off to school, you would invite me to join you on the prayer room couch, by the big window.  You would still be wearing your footed pajamas.  "Mom, wanna buhd [bird] watch wif me?"  You sat curled in my lap, a thumb tucked in your mouth, your other arm wrapped firmly around my neck, anchoring me in place.  Often Abby, our lab, would jump up and join us, licking our faces until we rolled off into a pile of giggles and blankets on the floor.  Then we'd have breakfast and you would rush upstairs to proudly dress yourself.  You are so independent.

I cried the first day I dropped you off.  I held it together until you were in your room, settled at your table.  I was a mess in the parking lot that day.  But I soon settled into a routine of cleaning, volunteering, running errands, and tackling the never-ending laundry.  I looked forward to our time apart and our happy reunion.  I'm not going to lie, some days were better than others.  If the weather was nice, and you were outside on the playground for pick up, you would shout, "Why did you have to pick me up so early?  We just got out here!"  Most afternoons we would enjoy lunch, read, play Hotwheels, and pretty soon, brothers and sister were home.

Fridays were the best days.  You referred to them as a "free day off."  For the first part of your school year, we would take special trips on Fridays.  Then I discovered UP!  It was the day shelter for homeless women and children downtown.  You and I would spend our Fridays there together.  You would play with the kids (if there were any).  You would serve imaginary ice cream to the ladies.  You would load up the wagon and drag coffee supplies around the room.  They loved you.  And you loved them.  You couldn't wait to go each week.

There were many other special things about this year.  You played tee ball and LOVED it.  You played basketball.  You loved swimming.  You loved camping.  You loved playing with others.  You just loved life.

Knowing we were moving to Texas, we decided to have a joint for you and Jack before we left town (and before your actual birthdays).  We invited your friends to All About Kids (a kids' gymnasium) where you bounced to your heart's content and ran around like a crazy man.  You loved all the shenanigans.

On your actual 6th birthday we were on our house hunting trip in Texas with Grammy.  You were so excited.  We found a house in a neighborhood that had a really neat manmade lagoon.  They allowed us to have passes to get in that day so we could celebrate with swimming and cake.  It was so much fun!

I can't wait to tell you all about yourself since we've been here in Texas.  Spoiler alert: You are an amazing 6 year old!  But I'll save that for next year's post.  For now, just know how much I loved spending time with sweet little five year old you.  You are my precious baby.  Love you, Cay-Cay!

Date

My blogging has been pretty inconsistent.  I find myself thinking about family things I want to record, and then the business of the days creep in, and the posts are never written.  Not today.  Today deserves a post.  One day, if my kids ever take the time to read this blog, I want them to know how much their parents loved each other.  Today is a perfect example.

Aaron asked me on a breakfast date.  It may not sound exciting or romantic to some.  In fact, if I were invited on a breakfast date as a teen, I'm not sure I would have been as enthusiastic as I was this morning.  Dates were meant for weekend nights and required hours of primping and preparation.  When Aaron and I first began dating, I would have a weight like a stone in my stomach and goosebumps all over in nervous anticipation as I waited for him to pick me up. 

This morning, I still felt the thrill.  Instead of butterflies and goosebumps, there was a warmth in my chest and tears stinging my eyes.  The joy!  The joy of going on a date - any date - with my handsome husband!  He had an early morning work call he could take from home, so he suggested we go out to breakfast together afterward.  There was no time to primp.  Lunches needed to be made, laundry started, children fed.  I donned jeans and a teeshirt, noticing more salt than pepper in my hair as I combed it.  Crows feet stamped the corners of my eyes, but they didn't bother me.  They were evidence of years of smiles - most from our 20+ years together.

This is joy.  This is love.  This is the gift.  It is not a free gift.  There is a cost.  Love like this is not a feeling.  It is not fleeting or altered by circumstance.  It is a daily choice.  It is the choice to spend time together whenever possible.  It is the choice to treat someone kindly when they are driving you crazy.  It is the choice to embrace imperfections.  Both people must make these choices over and over and over.  And when that happens, year after year, the result is a quiet, confident love - one that assures you you are are fully known, fully accepted, and fully loved.  It is a beautiful thing. 

So this morning, I am celebrating our marriage.  I'm celebrating our beautifully mundane extraordinary breakfast date.  Today I celebrate us.  I love you, Aaron.

Everything

Text received: I love you.
From that 12 year old man-child.  From the one who is uncertain he wants me beside him as he walks up to his teammates at practice.  Did he really just send this?  At school?  Were his friends around?  Does it matter?  He sent it.

A catch in my throat.  An ache in my chest.  I was okay before this.  I will be okay.  I will be okay.  I will be okay.  I enter Kroger and see a tired looking mom, strapping two wiggly toddlers into the basket, their chubby feet swinging.

I quickly walk past, brushing off the tears that have suddenly appeared on my cheeks.  I am not okay. I am not okay.  I am not okay.

I miss my babies.  I miss them so much it hurts.  Physically.  My arms feel heavy and empty as I walk.  I imagine Caleb's small hand in mine.  Maddie's arm around my waist.  I want to hug Parker and rest my chin on his head.  I want Jack to curl up in my lap.

A big nest empties slowly.  It's deceiving.  A mother of many believes she'll never be alone.  Until she is.  This silence is strange and disconcerting.

And then suddenly the silence is gone.  Four bodies pile into the van, all talking at once, arguing over the radio station, pestering each other, asking a million questions.  I take a deep breath.  I remember.  This, this is what I wanted.  I wanted them.  All of them.  All of their questions, all of their complaints, all at once.  This is what I signed up for.

Their loud conversation continues, but I interrupt them.

"Hey kids?"  [expectant pause]  "Do you know what I love about you?"

[I get an eye roll from some and a grin from others...They've heard this one before.]

"Everything."

(Special thanks to Grammy Susie for that line.)

Nearly a teenager

Dear Parker,
It’s always been a sort of self-imposed, unwritten rule of mine that I have to have a birthday blog post for one child finished before the next sibling’s birthday arrives.  Well, rules are meant to be broken, right?  Here we are, nearly three months after your birthday, on the morning of Caleb’s birthday, and I’m finally ready to record your 11th year and usher in your 12th.

I’m in a hotel room.  Everyone is still asleep.  We are just wrapping up our Dallas house hunting trip.  We found out about one month after your 12th birthday we’d be moving here.  Your eyes lit up.  You are our child - always excited for the next adventure.

Of course, it is bittersweet for you.  You will have difficulty leaving your friends in Kentucky.  You have many circles of friends and have learned just how hard it can be when those circles collide.  You can connect with anyone and often do.  You don’t want anyone to feel left out.  In fact, this year at church, the youth leader sought you out for that very reason.  She wanted you to greet new families at the door during the big Easter service because you put everyone at ease.

At church camp this summer, Ms. Paige kept texting me pictures and updates about how you would jump right up on stage, fearless though unfamiliar with the big 6th, 7th, and 8th graders.  She saw you as confident.  I see even more.  I saw my brave boy in those smiles.  Did you feel totally confident?  Probably not, and that’s okay.  What astounds me is your bravery.  You will always try new things.  You always put yourself out there.  And thank goodness!  Because the world needs more people like you.

You are compassionate, kind, conscientious.  You are respectful, courteous, and caring.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve received a text from a parent following a play date at their home, writing to tell me what a pleasure it was to have you over.  Dude!  I’m not making this stuff up!  While I’m glad you are humble, I hope you are also confident that you are exactly who you are supposed to be.  You are a treasured child of the most high God!  And I know you bring a smile to His face, just as you bring one to mine.

I love you so much, dear boy.  I love your giggles when you watch silly YouTube videos.  I love your fluffy hair.  I love the half moon shape of your eyes when you smile.  I love your huge squeeze hugs.  I love playing games with you, even when you talk smack and utterly destroy me.  I love watching action movies with you.  I love seeing you wrestle and play with your siblings.  I can even appreciate your unrelenting attempts to negotiate, be it for sugar or screen, because it shows your persistence in the midst of failure.

In short, I love you more than words can say or a blog post can contain.  You are my Parkeezee.  Thank you for making me a momma, sweet boy.  Have an awesome 12th year!

Love,
Mom