Mother's Day

I have no idea what tomorrow has in store for me.  I know I'll be able to do what I'd like and that's a nice gift in itself.  Nap, lunch alone, browse a bookstore after... I don't know.  I may choose to want to keep all the kids close to me and do something fun as a family.  Whatever it is, Chris will oblige with a smile.  Not too different from other days, really, but tomorrow I will have no guilt in asking.

Whatever your day has in store for you tomorrow I hope it's what you want and what makes you smile.

And to my mom, I so wished we lived closer so we could spend it together.  Thanks for giving me the strong, loving foundation on which I raise my own family.

Happy Mother's Day.

paychecks

Being a stay-at-home mom is all I ever wanted to do.  I know, such high aspirations, right?!  5 years of college to then basically not work.  I didn't know if it would ever happen since living on one income is never easy.  Fortunately I married a man who has the same work ethic as my mom and is persistant and lucky and blessed all wrapped into one handsome body.  After a 7 year career in teaching I was able to just walk away and stay home.  In one day I went from a financial contributor to our home, a working woman, an important contributor to our society, to, well... staying home.  I don't negate the importance of my job or that of any stay-at-home mom, but it was quite a shift.  And kind of a hard one.   Especially the not being a financial contributor part.  If you were to write out the pros and cons the list would probably be equal in length but the pros list carries more weight.  For me, anyway.  And for my kids. 


If you're wondering what a stay-at-home mom's paycheck looks like, it looks like this:

A surprise something inside, I'll open it on Mother's Day

A bouquet of flowers, handmade.

A card from William, transcribed by his preschool teacher.  Love that 3 year old boy for these answers.

These paychecks won't pay the bills, but they sure fill up the emotional bank, if you know what I mean.

Completely inconvenient phobia

Do you have any phobias?  Not just a fear of certain things, but true phobias?  I think the biggest difference between the two is when you fear something you can just say, "OMG, that scares the shit out of me."  With a phobia, you don't like to talk about it and it produces a true physical reaction.  I have a couple fears and only one phobia.  Emetophobia.  I'll save you the trouble from googling it.  It's the fear of throw up.  It's a reallllly convenient phobia to have when you have three young children, let me tell you.  Not a day goes by that I don't think about it.  Especially on those nights when Chris is at the firehouse.  I have a plan of action just in case I hear that horrid sound.  I won't go into the details of my plan but they do include contacting my neighbor who has assured me she's at the ready at any hour. 

I know that most people have an aversion to throw up.  This is so much more.  In a matter of half a second I break out in a sweat, I get tunnel vision, I can't think straight.  This involves the sight of it, the smell of it, the sound of it.  When I say I can't deal with it I absolutely mean it. 

This brings us to last night.  Chris and I had just gone to bed when at 12:03am we heard William's door open and he came into our room.  The two hours prior to this had been full of nightmares for both Drew and William and at this point we were just tired.  He walked up to my side of the bed and I said exhaustedly, "What, William?"  He said, "Mommy, my tummy hurts."  Then he let out this big burp.  Chris sat straight up in bed and I said, "Oh, shit!" as I shoved my pillow in his face.  Yep.  In his face.  'Cause I thought he was going to puke on me that was my first instinct.  MOTY.  Anyway, Chris jumped up and turned him around just as he threw up all over our bedroom floor.  OMG.  My only parenting nightmare had just come true for the first time.  Thankfully Chris was home.  In my real nightmare, Chris is at the firehouse and I'm left to do something about this on my own. 

I'll spare you the details of the next 4 hours but it wasn't pretty, we never slept, and I survived.  Oh, and so did William!  Poor William.  This actually became all about me, not him.  And that's another problem.  I can't get passed myself to help whomever is puking.  All the way around it's just not good. 

You know how you marvel at those pictures of those men walking without any ropes on the beams of steel while building highrises back in the early part of the 20th century?  You think, "Gosh, how in the world could anyone do that?" 

 That is how I look at Chris as he cleans up puke off the carpet.  It's the equivalent for me. 

I do have to say that I am extremely proud of how I handled the situation last night, though.  I got up with Chris every time and made myself go into William's room.  I even took the bowl downstairs to empty and clean it before bringing it back into his room.  That is SO HUGE for me.  I feel like that may have been kind of a breakthrough and it took a lot of courage to do it. 

Chris stayed home from work today.  If you know Chris, you know he doesn't do that.  He went to work when I was in labor with our first child, ya'll.  He gave me the whole, "Call me if it gets worse" speech.    When I say he doesn't stay home from work, he doesn't stay home from work.  I have to add that he wasn't happy about staying home today at all but I think he understood that his children were at great risk if he were to leave me here alone with them and William's stomach bug had spread.  I fully anticipate that the other two will get this before its reign here is through.  All I can do is hope and pray that Chris is home.  If not, I feel soooo sorry for my neighbor.  She's going to have a lot of puke to clean up.

To buy, or not to buy

Our 8th anniversary is one week.  We don't do big anniversary gifts.  And by that I mean we don't do gifts.  We do cards and a night out, but it rarely occurs on our actual anniversary but whatever.  It is important that the day is recognized and observed but we don't make a big whoopty about it.  This year, however, I thought I'd start a tradition of, um... making a big deal about it.  Just because.  I think being super happy after 8 years of marriage is kind of a big deal.  

Chris is the hardest person to buy for and spending money just to spend money isn't really something we do.  He doesn't need anything and honestly, doesn't really want much.  I thought I'd look online at what is traditionally given for an 8 year annivesary and it's either bronze or pottery.  This piece was actually suggested:

See the number 8 there?  And it's bronze.  And it's pottery.  Brilliant.  Chris would wonder why in the hell I gave him a cruddy for our anniversary.  (A cruddy is a family tradition, a gift given at Christmas that is so hideous it's fabulous).   I think I'll give him the gift of silence that day.  That's what he needs most.  A day to work in his office without feeling the need to push work aside to be superdad.  I know that's what he'd appreciate most of all. 

Or this cruddy.  Because really.  This is just too hideous and fabulous to pass up.   

Perspective

I was browsing through some pictures I have saved in a file and Drew saw this and asked me to stop.  I said, "What would you do if that was in our backyard?"  She said, "I'd cut the flowers some so I could lay down and take a nap."  She asked me what I'd do.  I said, "I'd sit next to the flowers, smell them, and read a book."  William looked over our shoulders and said, "I wouldn't even go near it 'cause there would be bees."  Interesting perspective we all have while looking at the same picture. 

What would you do if this was in your backyard?

Feeling a bit invisible

I have this file entitled, "Stuff I didn't write but wish I had".  This is in there.  I tried to find the author so I could credit the appropriate person but I couldn't find any information.  This is a fantastic piece of writing, I think.  Chris is so hands-on and so amazing as a daddy in every way so it almost makes me want to give a disclaimer that this could be about fathers as well but when I think about it, I think really this is strictly for us.  For the moms.  For those whose physical body aches when our babies ache.  For those of us who have chosen to or are fortunate enough to stay home with our babies and rarely get a break from them.  For those of us who get in a rut and are conflicted with the feelings of wanting to get out and be away from our children but know that being away from them is not worth any experience we may have.  Those of us who nursed and had a baby on our boob for xxx hours and held us hostage on the couch.  For those of us who do so much for our children during the day without a second thought as to why.  For those of us who are lucky enough to be called MOMMY. 

Invisible 

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store.


Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom.

Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this?  Can you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?"


I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?"

I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please."


I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, and she's gone!


One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the
return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a hair clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.


A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over.  You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."


At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a
disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.


The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.


When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table."


That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."


As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

   

A true May activity

Today is May 1.  May means sun.  Sun means bathing suits.  Bathing suits means Slip 'N Slide!

Nice hair shot

He stood up and said, "Safe!"

While Chris fished a leaf out of Lauren's mouth, William took advantage of the tunnel.

13 months old and digging the slip 'n slide.

'Cause he's awesome like that.

Here is Lauren, proving that you're never too young to do what the big kids do. 

Photo Sharing - Video Sharing - Photo Printing

Hope your Saturday was terrific.