Thursday, November 20, 2014


Today, my Little Meems is trying out for honors chorus at her elementary school.  If you recall, this is the child who puts the “noise” in joyful noise.  But she loves it, and because of that, will go after every singing part ever, but will probably (if she’s lucky) be relegated to the chorus.  Which would make her happy too.  Because she’s singing.

I am worried for her.  I am nervous for her.  I have been praying for her.  She has been practicing.  She thinks she sounds better if she adds some vibralto and sings through her nose.  She is confident.  Unafraid.  Hopeful.  Excited.

I am scared to death.  That’s my little girl and I don’t want to see her fail.  I want to encourage her to go after all her dreams, not just this one, but I’m a realist and have the wisdom of age and experience, and that makes it hard.  She is so innocent.  We all have a story of when we went for something we were totally not cut out for – it’s a rite of passage and provides us a knowing chuckle as we age.  It’s an invaluable life experience, regardless of how painful or wonderful.  I’m hoping for the best outcome to this situation.  Whatever that may be.

I’m proud of her.  She’s one courageous little thing.  What’s more, I admire her. 

Today, this girl with her courageous heart is my hero. 

If you’re reading this, cross your fingers, send up a good thought or give her a high five.  Or pray.  Pray for a clear voice.  Pray for confidence and strength.  Pray for courage.

Most of all, pray for grace.  I think that sums it up best of all.

Monday, November 17, 2014

The Secret

I am alone.  I'm here 45 minutes early because the coach said so.  Where is he anyway?  I've been sitting here for 15 minutes because I'm too lazy to leave and, besides, where would I go?  There are a few other players here but no parents.  Where did they go?  It's like they're all in on some secret parental code that I don't have access to.  Or maybe they live closer than I do and they are enjoying a quick bite to eat in their warm kitchen while I freeze my pants off.

Speaking of pants, I wish I'd worn them.  It was 75 today and I went for a run before we left so I'm in my little Lululemon skirt and suddenly it's not Lululemon skirt weather.  The sun went down and I forgot how gosh-awful windy it is out here.

I'm hunched over on myself, trying to capitalize on my own body heat while I type this out on my phone because I'm that crazy.  Shiver.  Curse you iPhone for not having swiping as an option.

Still alone.  8 lacrosse players.  No coach.  It is now 15 minutes pre game.

Maybe the other parents are sitting in their cars.  Smart.  Is that part of the secret code?

This place is right next to the interstate and therefore is windy like you can't believe.  At least that's my theory.  It's either that or it's located at the center of some permanent wind vortex in Chesterfield County.  There is a roll of abandoned turf over there and I'm tempted to cover myself with it.  At this point it wouldn't be any weirder than sitting here freezing by myself.  Plus I'm desperate.

Damn you elementary school dads night.  You and your warm, loud gym, while I sit here freezing. My right forefinger is numb and turning white.

Maybe they went to get coffee.  Those parents.

I think I'm losing brain function and my left thumb is starting to lose its accuracy.

You know, this is love.  My son adores lacrosse and I adore him so here I am.

At the wrong field.

Sent from my iPhone

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

You Blink Your Eyes...

...and suddenly you have a teenager.

And just like that, everything changes.  Or rather, the changes that have been slowly happening for a while now have a label.  

Gone are the pudgy appendages.  Everything is bones and angles.

Gone are the snuggles.  The kid who wanted to be held constantly now won’t let me touch him with a ten foot pole.  I do anyway.

Gone are the ear infections.  11 ear tube surgeries.  No one misses them.

He’s still a kid who finds joy and fun in everything.  

He’s still very much a boy.  A kid.  Peter Pan incarnate.

He’s still the kid who’d rather be outside, moving, moving, moving.

He’s becoming more compassionate.

He’s becoming more responsible.

He’s becoming more aware – of who he is, who he wants to be, who his friends are.

He is funny.  

He is strong.

He is an enigma.  Crazy in the best of ways, he puts it all out there.  Yet he has a sensitive, introverted side I just can’t seem to crack.  

For thirteen years, he’s been brought me joy, exasperated me, made me shake my head, confounded me, amazed me, impressed me, made me laugh.  I’d be lying if I didn’t say the teenage years worry me.  Heck, sometimes they scare the crap out of me.  But they’re also full of anticipation.  Who will he be, and will he make good decisions, and will he have a girlfriend, and how will he do in school and will he be strong?  Will he ever remember to brush his teeth (that there's the true cliffhanger, folks)?  I am crazy about this kid and all he can do and I know I haven’t even experienced a trillionth of what’s in store for him.  I love our conversations, his sense of humor, his easy nature.  I love the kid he is now and the glimpse of who I think I see down the road. 

13 wonderful, crazy years.  In 13 more years he’ll be all grown up and on his own (fingers crossed).  

And 13 years is NOT THAT LONG.  

Friday, October 31, 2014

Life Lately

Life lately has been too busy.  Just all the things.  And hubs is traveling.  By the end of the day I feel like I have been dog paddling and treading water all day.  Homework, sports, activities, 2 preteens.  One girl preteen.  Need I say more?

It’s that time of year.  It’s not just me, it’s moms everywhere.  I have been craving some time to myself.  It’s not likely to come any time soon.

And that’s OK.  In the midst of the crazy I sat down and poured myself a glass of wine.  Sat down to write.  I thought I needed to vent.  And everything that came out sounded whiny and complain-y.  Yes it’s busy.  Yes it’s noisy.  Yes it’s a struggle sometimes.  Yes it’s easy to lose yourself in the frenzy of it all.  But the busy-ness is proof of active children who like to “do.”  The noise is proof of children who are healthy and happy.  The struggle is proof that my children are trying.  And a reminder that I should too.

I’m blessed for these things.  Truly.  This is what I signed on for.  I can’t lift my littlest one to carry him around anymore and I don’t know when that happened.  I am almost eye-to-eye with my oldest and I don’t know when that happened.  Girls are starting to notice him and I don’t know when that happened.  My daughter is becoming a lovely young lady and I don’t know when that happened.  It can all be gone in the blink of an eye.  It can all change just like that, and honestly, it does.  We have to savor every crazy moment of it.  Every rainy football game.  Every muddy cross country meet.  Every drum video.  Every off-tune song.  Every cheer.  Every handstand.  Every pillow fort.  Every wrong turn.  Every flunked Latin test.  Every math fact.  Every juice box.  Every award.  Every good grade.  Every concert.  Every joke.  Every idea.  Every prank.  Every dream.  Every everything.

Every day.

Life lately?  Crazy.  Good.  Crazy good.

Turns out, all I needed was a reminder.

Monday, October 13, 2014

There's An Egg in My Soda

My children are always on the hunt for soda.  It is rare that we have anything other than ginger ale, and it is equally rare that they are allowed to have it.  Although I admit I do indulge them occasionally – nothing in the world tastes like an ice cold Coke.

This hunt led my youngest to the garage refrigerator this afternoon.  Inside were three glasses: one with milk, one with ginger ale and one with Coke.

Just sitting there.  In the refrigerator.  In the garage.  All in a row.

"Those are your sister's."

There is an egg in all three glasses.  It is my daughter’s science experiment.  You can see the egg in the ginger ale.  You can’t in the other two glasses; however, all glasses are the same.

One might logically conclude, upon opening the door and seeing such a sight, that something is happening here.  They are there for a purpose.  And one very obviously has an egg in it.

Do you just help yourself to the glass of Coke, sitting so neatly there in that row of beverages?  Should I really answer that? 

“Oh my gosh, there’s an egg in this Coke.  Why is there an EGG in the Coke?"

"Because it is a science experiment."

"Can I have this Ginger ale?”

Because it is eggless?

Lesson: you don't help yourself to something just because you want it.  Because it might not be what you think it is.  Some surprises are worse than others, like the time my brother drank a cup of bleach thinking it was water, because it was there and he was thirsty and he wanted it.  A perfect example of a bad (and very dangerous) surprise.

And also, your sister will FREAK THE SHIT OUT on you.  That, alone, should deter you from ever touching anything ever around here that's not yours.  EVER. 

Never one to miss an opportunity like this, he opens his mouth and, knowing what's coming next I shut it down with a "No, you absolutely cannot drink the egg Coke when the project is over, even if your 8-year-old brain finds it hysterical.  Even if you and your brother record it for prosperity.  And no, you may not post the video to YouTube.  Trust me when I tell you, none of this is a good idea."

I fully expect this isn't the last we've seen of the egg in the soda idea.  I know that kid.  Let me know if you see it on YouTube, will ya?