"The quieter you become, the more you can hear." -Baba Ram Dass

Yeah. Totally don't know who that is. But I found the quote here.

I was just quickly looking up quotes on relaxation and thought this applies nicely to what I try to accomplish with my kids day after day - every day.

I enjoy my job immensely. Now, keep in mind, that I enjoy it, but in reality, this is not the field of work that I would have chosen for my "dream career". The people are pretty nice and the work is just challenging enough to keep my interest. So when I need to stay a little longer to get things done before taking a vacation day, I really don't mind.

But I wonder sometimes...

Do I like my job so much because I dread the pandemonium that typically greets me at the door - and quite often before I even get out of my car?

Today, for example, I received two phone calls from the kids before I even clocked out from work. One was to ask if they could go swimming this evening. The second was to ask if she could go to a friends house down the road. Of course they know the answer: We will talk about it when I get home. They know they can't just up and take off before I get home unless it has been pre-planned. So I really don't know why they still call me at work to ask me these things when I really believe they know the answer.

Then, pulling into my garage, I see a head peek out of the kitchen door. Vehicle stops and out she comes. Before my car door even opens, I can hear the 5-year-old whine: Cassy's being mean to me. Usually this is pretty easy to deal with. A 5-year-old still loves her mother, so a kiss and a hug and a sympathetic tone will generally cheer away the hurt feelings.

After gathering my work bag and coffee cup from the car and heading into the house. I am now approached by my two oldest darlings. One is verbally listing all the chores she accomplished at home today to see if she is now qualified to go to the beach. The second child is rehashing his day at school. The third child is trying to get in the door with her friend who has just magically showed up (without any permission from me) so that she can use the bathroom. My fourth is holding her small body against the door so as not to let them in because they were mean to her earlier.

This is everyday for me.

I try my best to listen to everyone; give everyone a fair shake. I really do try.

So it really bothers me when I am unjustly accused of not listening to someone.

"Mom, I've already told you  this."
"Mom! I told you I had a [thing] tonight!"
"I can't believe you don't remember!"
"Mom, you're not listening!"

I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It's not my fault. And, you know? I've explained this to them - and I, apparently mistakenly, thought they understood. I have four children and when they are all trying to tell me something or tattle on someone, it makes it very difficult for me to hear everything that's being said. And the things I do manage to actually hear are usually in one ear and out the other. I simply cannot remember it all.

I've gotten to a point where my day planner is very important to me. I write down almost everything my kids need to do. You might think it's impossible to forget something as important as the 4 dental cleaning appointments. You know, the ones you scheduled a whole vacation day for? Yeah those. I now owe $50 to the dentist for these missed appointments. And what about high school graduation? I haven't forgotten that - yet! But I'm not taking any chances either.

It's in my trusty purple planner.... Now if I can just remember to look at the planner.

My personal desk at home. I think the planner is here somewhere.

First Lasts and Last Firsts

Tonight marks my oldest daughter's last Senior prom. She was so excited and so beautiful. She has put in so much work leading up to today. Not just today - Prom. I mean today - as in kind of a final celebration for all the commitment she's put into her entire K through 12 school career.

It's hard for me to step back and let her do it all on her own. She can certainly handle it, but because she's still so young, she doesn't know all the shortcuts to getting certain things done. So naturally, I want to jump in and tell her the answer to ordering the boutonniere, to planning the after party, to packing her clutch with necessities. I know she wants to do it herself, but it's still hard to watch them falter or come back with a result they may not be completely happy with. I try to make it my daily mantra: Let it go. She can do it. Give her the room she needs to find out for herself.

It's very hard.

She's my first child. My first child to graduate from school. My first child that will be going off to college. My first that I drove to pre-school and watched her jump out of the car door and run to the sidewalk with hardly a "'Bye Mom!" She's the first child I taught to drive my car. The list goes on and on.

This fall my oldest will be my first to go off to college, while my youngest will be my last to start Kindergarten. My last first day of Kindergarten.

How will I react? I'm sure it will be much the same as when the first had her first day of Kindergarten. I'll be teary-eyed, trying to hide it so that my girl can be brave. Except this time, there's no more little brothers or sisters for me to buckle into the car seat after I've pulled myself away from the classroom doorway. My last little baby girl is going to school. My last little girl is going to learn her alphabet and her addition and subtraction. She will learn how to read and progress in her reading levels. Which means that the children's books that we have hundreds of will begin to thin out and disappear. No more Clifford or Little Bear.

In many ways, all of this gets easier. I know what to expect. I know how to get from point A to point B. I know how to avoid many meltdowns. On the other hand, it's still just as hard. Letting go of these things is like saying good-bye to a dear old friend, to a piece of my life that I'm not ready to say good-bye to. Letting the crib go was hard. Letting the collection of newborn attire go was extremely difficult. The walker, the playpen, the bassinet, the stroller. They've all had their special time and place in our family, and we've parted ways. Never to see them again.

I suppose, even though I don't want to admit it (because I try so hard to be a ((excuse the French)) hard-ass), I'm an emotional person. And in the midst of these couple of months, I am quite the emotional mess, actually. Tearing up thinking about graduation, Kindergarten, 19th wedding anniversary, Mother's Day.... excuse me while I blow my nose...

It's hard letting go of the past, even though looking back and reminiscing is easy.
It's equally difficult to look forward to the future. Because all of these firsts and lasts means that we are all getting older; we are all moving forward at a sometimes alarming rate. I'm the person who really hates cliches, but when i figure that I've got another 13 years to go before my youngest graduates high school, I can really, truly, honestly say: It's going to fly by.

I apologize for being so mushy. It just seems to be the constant frame of mind I'm in lately. I like making progress. And I really love seeing my children make progress. I just wish it would all slow down. Even if it were only on the weekends. Just slow to a pace where we can actually look at each other and notice the small changes. The physical changes, the mental growth.

Alright. I'm done. I should have posted something about Mother's Day..... excuse while I blow my nose.

Exploring...

Exploring...

It's kind of a tradition now, every year on Mother's Day to go exploring. Just me and the kids. I've always been the type of person and parent who enjoys just 'going'. I can remember as a child I would say I had to go to the bathroom really bad so my school bus driver would let me run into a friends house, just so I could see what the inside looked like. My own mother calls me a "gad-about". She says that I'm always on the road, that I'm never home.

Not necessarily true.

True, in part, because I do have four kids, and each, in turn, is always involved in something or other. Something that needs going to or prepping for or whatever. So, occasionally, in spurts, yeah. It seems like I'm always going somewhere. But, there are still plenty of Friday afternoons when I really look forward to getting home and not getting into the Pilot again until Monday morning. Sometimes I'm lucky. Sometimes not.

Mother's Day is a week away now. And, as I've already mentioned, the kids and I like to get in the Pilot and go. Okay. Sometimes, I admit, it does take some persuading to get them into the car, but I'm sure they would all willingly agree that once we actually get the heck out of Dodge, we all loosen up and begin to have some fun.

Typically we begin our adventure at the entrance to our cul-de-sac. Right or left? Sometimes the kids pick. Sometimes I pick. But whoever picks, we always end up someplace quite picturesque, where we can get out, stretch our legs and click some pics.

This year, I'm already feeling more than a little abandoned. My oldest's Senior Prom is the night before Mother's Day, so we'll be up at least until the wee small hours of the morning, as their plans include staying until the last song is danced too, then heading back to our house (thank God it's our house) and roasting hotdogs and marshmallows out at the firepit.

Because it's her Senior year, and because she has worked extremely hard (and I'm not just saying that because I'm her mother) I'm trying to let her make her plans so that her and her friends will be happy - and safe. The last of her "prom plans" includes a late (since everyone will be sleeping in) picnic brunch in the park. Sounds like fun, I'll admit. But this leaves me, well, kind of in the dust.

True, I've got three other kids that I could still take exploring, but.... two out of these three love to fight. Fight like cats and dogs (literally, okay, maybe figuratively). It's like the dog is continuously circling the cat, and the cat continuously has her back hunched and all of her hair standing on end.

This is what my babies used to look like:

Cute, huh?

Now? This is what they do - CONSTANTLY!

Not so sweet anymore.

It should be pretty plain to see the reason why I don't want to be cooped up in a vehicle with my remaining three children for a day of driving. (No offense darlings!)

Honestly, we are all probably going to be way, way tired out anyways from the late night prom stuff. I think I'll just drive down to the local ice cream shoppe and treat myself to an extra-large, soft-serve, vanilla-chocolate twist.

Yep. That should do the trick quite nicely, I should think!















Getting Excited

Have you noticed that as you age, the focus of what makes you excited has changed drastically? Why does getting older do that to a person? Why do our interests turn "boring"? And if you take the opportunity as an adult, to indulge yourself in some of the exciting things that maybe you passed over as a youngster, why is it you are considered to be having a mid-life crisis?

I decided early on to embrace my mid-lifeness: my silver hairs, my crows feet, my sags and bags and stretchmarks. But I find myself getting bored with the "every day" that I've fallen into. I'm in a rut that has deepened through the years of child-rearing and working. I feel like this guy. You know what I mean?

I used to get excited about dressing up, doing my hair, going out, meeting with friends, a new outfit, shopping, taking a trip....

Now? Things are just a teensy bit different. I can still manage to get excited about getting my hair done, since, as of late, it seems to only happen about twice a year. But getting dressed up? I never seem to have the kind of  clothing items in my closet that fit any other occasion besides work and getting groceries. Which ties in with shopping. I can't say as I actually loathe shopping - well, yes I can. I hate shopping. I hate trying things on. I hate looking for the bright yellow tags that say clearance. I hate standing in the crowded grocery aisle trying to calculate in my mush-mind just how much I'm saving if I buy the store brand rather than the name brand. It's sad, really. I've trained myself to look away from the mannequin wearing the super-cute outfit that's on sale. I've learned to remind myself that I'm only in the store for coffee filters - and nothing else. Nope! Not even a magazine at the checkout.

Yeah. I'm a bit more subdued now-a-days. Bling doesn't excite me so much anymore. Now a new washer/dryer combo? That would have me dancing in the street and shouting from the rooftop. A free oil change? I might have to do a cartwheel. Getting some spring flowers planted and sprucing up the front yard for the warm season? I might treat myself to an alcoholic beverage and an afternoon on the front porch in the sunshine.

Yep. It sure is funny how my perspective on things has changed. Realizing now what a big deal I made out of things as a teenager makes me rather angry that I wasted so much valuable time. Of course, way back then, I sure didn't realize just how valuable time is. Back then, I can't believe how much time I spent - EVERY DAY - putting my hair into just the right 80's do.


Oh yes I did!

Now, If I can just give a quick blow-dry and comb before I head out the door I'm happy. Being organized and out the door in record time in the morning? Now that's exciting!