A Book is a Book

Our town celebrated Dr. Seuss' birthday today with a big party at our youth and family center.  Even though I was feeling less than stellar, I dragged myself off the couch and took the kids.  They were very excited and both stopped cold when they saw The Cat in the Hat waiting at the entrance.  Christian was in his walker, and we held up traffic for a little while before I could scoot him in and out of the way.  The kids made Lorax and Horton puppets, got their faces painted, were given goodie bags, listened to a reading of Green Eggs and Ham, and had cupcakes.  It was pretty awesome.  One of the best parts of the event was that our library was giving each child a free book.  My kids love books, they definitely got that from me, and they couldn't wait to pick out a new one.

I was kind of hoping that they were giving away Dr. Seuss books, but wasn't that surprised that they were mostly books based on movies and T.V. shows.  But a book is a book, no matter how commercialized (Just a little Dr. Seuss reference.)  Tessie picked a Scooby Doo Halloween book, and by some miracle, I noticed a comic book about The Incredibles, so Christian was ecstatic.  From the moment we got home, until it was time for dinner, the kids looked at their new books.  After bath time, I brought the kids down to sit next to the fire while I got them in pajamas.  Tes brought over their books, and they cozied up next to each other to read.

At first, Christian was just looking at the pictures, but when he noticed his sister "reading" out loud, he did the same.  They sat there, both describing their respective books, and occasionally looking over to see what the other one had, for about fifteen minutes.  I finally told them it was time to brush their teeth, and so they reluctantly put the books down.  They may not have been reading great literature, but that's not the point.  They both already have a great love for books and reading.  It is a love that I will support all their lives.  If they are anything like me, then I'm sure I will be telling them to turn off their lights at one in the morning, as they tell me they are just reading to the end of the chapter, for the tenth time.  I couldn't be happier, or prouder as I watched them tonight.  What a beautiful sight.

Just What I Needed

I had one goal last night, get a good night's sleep so I would wake up feeling better.  I got a pretty good night's sleep, but I woke up feeling worse.  Much worse.  I ached all over, I was dizzy, hot, and pretty much thought I might die.  All I wanted to do was crawl in bed and have my mommy take care of me.  Instead, I reminded myself that I am thirty, and have kids of my own that need their mommy to pull it together.  I accepted the cup of coffee that Nick handed me, and tried to put on a brave face.  He could tell something was up, and asked me how I felt.  I burst into tears.

Although I try to conduct myself with a little grace and decorum, I do a lousy job.  Any time I feel slightly of kilter, whether it's because I'm mad, moved, or in this case, sick, my emotions get the best of me and I fall apart.  This never serves me well, especially when I'm trying to win an argument and have valid points that no one can hear through my tears.  Another story.  This morning was no different, and I knew there was no point in fighting it.

Luckily for me, my husband knew just what I needed.  I didn't want a tissue, or a cheek turned the other way.  I wanted to be taken care of.  Nick held his arms open, and I fell into them like I was coming home.  I sobbed on his chest, and though I am sure he was smiling, he never let on that he felt anything other than really bad for me.  After I eventually got a grip, he loaded the kids' stuff up for school, put on their shoes and jackets, and started my car.  It was all he could do, but it was wonderful.  In case you are wondering, I did end up surviving the day, and I have my husband to thank for his beautiful insight into just what I needed.

Beautiful Words

This afternoon, during Christian's physical therapy session, I was in the kitchen doing the dishes, and Tes was coloring in the living room.  I was feeling pretty lousy, no big surprise after being sneezed, spit, and thrown up on all weekend.  It was taking forever for me to get anything done, and I felt like I was walking in quick sand.  My head was floating and the dishes didn't seem to be getting any cleaner.  Then Tessie called me from the living room, asking me to come look at something.  I gladly accepted the distraction.

I walked over to the table and followed her direction to look at her sketch book.  She had written, plain as day, the words BRAVE and CHICKEN.  I was immediately pulled out of my funk as I marveled at what was in front of me.  "See," she said proudly, "I wrote BRAVE, just like this."  She gestured to a book of the same title on the table, and I realized she had been copying words she recognized from various books and movies.  I had never seen her write so neatly and legibly before.  "I am so proud of you!" I gushed, and hugged her tightly to me.  I love that she is so interested in writing and learning to spell.  Even through my haze I swelled with pride.  Who would of thought that a few words written in crayon could be so beautiful.

The Start of Something Beautiful

I have been attempting to get back in shape lately.  Before I got pregnant with Tes, I was in the best shape of my life, hiking, lifting weights, and generally getting a lot of exercise.  I continued to exercise during my pregnancy, and even worked with a trainer for a while.  Then, just before the final stages of my pregnancy, I was put on bed rest because I was having too many contractions.  I ended up being taken off bed rest a few weeks later, and delivered Tessie full term.  But when I became pregnant a second time, I was paranoid about being put on bed rest again, and so stopped exercising altogether.  Of course it turns out that my efforts, or lack thereof, didn't matter, since Christian was born three months early anyway.  Because of my emergency Cesarean I couldn't be physically active for a while, and so the pattern continued.  All this leads up to me not getting any exercise in about four years.  Not good.

My new campaign for fitness has to do with more than a smaller waistline.  I want to set a good example for my kids.  I don't want them to see me ballooning back and forth between dress sizes, crash dieting, or complaining about my weight.  I want them to see me leading a balanced lifestyle that includes exercise as part of my regular routine.  Lately, I have been getting back into the groove.  I have been working out at home almost every day.  The kids have seen a little, but I usually have to work out when they are at school, or with someone else.  Today I had to finish up my routine in the living room with them. 

At first, neither of them seemed to notice me squatting and jumping around in front of them.  Then, as I was doing some work with my medicine ball, Tessie asked "Why are you working so hard Mommy?"  I laughed, and told her I was just exercising to get stronger.  She asked if she could join me, and I said of course.  We sat on the ground and stretched together.  She showed me some very interesting "yoga exercise" moves, which luckily she did not ask me to try, and I showed her some leg stretches.  It was really great to have her as a part of my routine, and I think I will find more ways to work both the kids in.  I'm going to try to make this a permanent habit, and there is no one like your children to hold you accountable.  I have a feeling this is going to be the start of something beautiful.

My Skier

The first time I went skiing I was nineteen years old, I lasted half a day, and haven't been back on the slopes since.  As you can imagine, growing up in Hawaii, I had little oppurtunity to learn to ski, and when I moved to the mainland I never felt the need or desire to change that.  Of course, I married an avid skier, and there was never a doubt in his mind that our children would learn to ski at an early age.

Tessie has always been a cautious girl, and has only recently started to show a lot of physical confidence.  Some of her friends started to ski last year, but we knew she wasn't even close to being ready.  This year she told us she was ready, and I could tell Nick was excited.  Today was her first day on the slopes.  It was great.

For a moment, I thought it wasn't going to happen.  Tessie was sitting on the counter in the gear rental office, and Nick was trying to get rental boots on her.  Tessie was whining, and claiming she wasn't feeling well, which we knew wasn't true.  Nick did a great job of calming her down, and she agreed to try the boots on one more time.  It worked, and we got her outside.  What happened next was amazing.  Nick got her on the bunny slope, and I watched my daughter take run after run with her dad, grinning from ear to ear the whole time.  After a few times down the hill in between Nick's legs, she even started to go alone on flat ground.  I watched her scooting along on her tiny skis and smiled as she called out "I'm having so much fun!"  Well it looks like I may have to learn to ski after all.  It will be a beautiful sacrifice that I will be happy to make.

Sick

I think there isn't anything that says love quite as much as holding someone while they are puking all over you, and not noticing anything other than that they are miserable.  For whatever reason, tonight Christian got super sick to his stomach, and let me prove just how much I loved him. 

This morning Christian was in a great mood, and excited for swim therapy at the pool.  Towards the end of his session he got pretty sleepy and fussy, but nothing too unusal.  After swimming, I took the kids to Nick's mom's house.  Christian was playong hapily at first, but began spiralling towards exahustion quickly.  After a few bites of lunch he announced he was done, and I put him down for a nap.  Later this afternoon, as I was on my way to pick the kids back up, Nick's mom called and said that Christian had just thrown up.  I got there as quickly as I could. 

He didn't seem sick to me, just lethargic, and continued to get more color and energy.  But then, just before dinner, he threw up again.  This time he was in my arms, and it was bad.  Nick was standing next to me, and I leaned my poor baby forward and he got sick all over me, the floor, and himself.  As soon as I was sure he was done, I high-tailed it to the bathroom.  I began stripping him down, and expected him to be sad and traumatized, but instead he seemed to perk up right away.  In fact, he ate a huge dinner and then played in the toy kitchen for a long time before it was time to put on jammies.  As I was cleaning him up he said "I threw up momma."  I nodded and asked if he thought he was going to again, or if he was okay.  "I'm okay." he stated.  And that was that.  I hugged him against me, with the lovely smells from our dirty clothes filling the small bathroom.  How is it that something so gross can make you love another person so much more?  It's one of life's beautiful mysteries. 

Feeling Like a Grown Up

We were invited to dinner at a friend's house this evening, and I was really looking forward to it.  I have had very little adult interaction lately, and I was hoping that the distraction of friends and new toys for my kids, would give me a little time to feel like a grown up.  It mostly worked like a charm.  Aside from a few grumbles, the kids played happily, and I got to sit at the "big kid's" table, drink some wine, and talk about something other than poop and Elmo.  Although, we did still talk about Elmo.

I thought my evening was over when Christian started to fuss a little, and I took him in my arms to try to buy a few more moments.  He snuggled right up, and sat happily with me, until, low and behold, he fell asleep.  I made the bold move to put him down on the guest bed, and he stayed asleep.  It was a miracle.  Of course, we did eventually have to leave, and tears were definitely shed.  But there were a few moments in between, when Christian was asleep and Tes was watching a movie with a girlfriend, that I got to laugh and tell stories.  I got to feel like a grown up.  For maybe all of thirty minutes.  But let me tell you, they were a beautiful thirty minutes.

An Unnatural Mother

We have all heard the term "natural mother."  Before I had children I always thought I would be a natural mother.  I guess what I thought that meant was this; I thought motherhood would come easily to me.  Not that it would be easy, just that I would be good at it.  I pictured myself as an easygoing, graceful under fire, stern yet loving mother, who parented with kindness and encouragement.  I thought I would know what to do.  Well I don't.  Not at all.  Not even close.  I have absolutely no idea what I am doing.  Ever.  I am totally making this up as I go. 

I am having a particularly hard time with Christian lately.  Everything that I thought I knew about parenting him no longer works, and I am at a loss for what to do next.  I'm struggling.  Every night is a battle to get him to sleep.  My once easy sleeper is waking up at all hours of the night, and screaming at me with a stubbornness I can't compete with.  For hours.  I feel myself filled with a horrible rage, juxtaposed with incredible guilt, while holding the screaming monster.  I consider it a miracle that I haven't murdered him.  Our days our filled with more struggle than happy moments, and the unbalance is taking it's toll on me.  I am unraveling.  Quickly. 

Today I broke down and cried in Nick's arms, questioning everything.  Feeling like a terrible mother, like nothing could be more unnatural for me.  Nick just hugged me, and brushed aside my worries, telling me I was doing great.  I usually believe him.  But not today.  Today I needed a break.  But unfortunately, Nick had a meeting, so I was on my own.  I cooked dinner and bathed the kids, dreading bed time.  My kids surprised me.  We sailed through our bed time routine, and they snuggled up on the couch together, and sweetly waited for me to sit down and read to them.  We snuggled during books, then I tucked them into bed, told a story, and sang a song.  I kissed them both goodnight, and with no protests, I closed the door.  They must have sensed my proximity to the edge of sanity.

So here's what I have learned today.  I still know nothing.  Well, maybe just one thing.  Being a parent is hard, harder than anything.  Yes, it's rewarding and wonderful too, blah, blah, blah, but not always.  The only predictable thing about parenting is that it is unpredictable.  I am still bracing for a horrible night, but maybe I will be surprised.  Wouldn't that be beautiful?

Winter's Return

As we were preparing for our vacation to come to an end last week, I was having a hard time getting excited about returning home.  The main reason was that I would be leaving wonderful warmth, and retuning to sub zero temperatures.  Not very appealing.  Every advance I'd made as a transplanted island girl adjusting to changing seasons was lost, and I dreaded being cold, and wearing ridiculous amounts of layers.  Luckily, when we returned home the weather had taken a turn, and it was actually pleasant.  I could see the light at the end of winter's tunnel, and began looking forward to spring and plating a garden.  Then I woke up this morning, and was reminded it was still, very much winter.

It had snowed a couple of inches overnight, and it was still cloudy and cold outside.  I felt gloom settle on my shoulders, and I frowned at the white landscape before me.  I layered the kids up for school, then grumbled my way outside to prepare my car.  As I shoveled snow off my hood and windows, I was most likely pouting.  Finally, it was time to bring the kids outside.  Tessie waited next to me as I stuffed Christian and his puffy jacket into his car seat.  I huffed and puffed, and turned towards Tes.

Tessie was standing in the snow with her arms outstretched, and an angelic smile painted across her face.  She giggled, and ran through the fresh powder, kicking up fairy dust as she went.  I felt like an idiot.  What was I grumbling about?  It was absolutely spectacular outside!  I stood and watched Tessie twirling in her winter wonderland for a few minutes, then reminded her that we had to go to school.  She happily walked to the car, humming a magical tune to herself.  I put her in her seat, then looked around my yard again.  The sun was peaking through the clouds and making the snow shimmer, and the air was cool and crisp.  Thanks to my daughter's unknown intervention, I was reminded that I did, in fact, think winter was pretty beautiful. 

The Cardboard Box House

Nick and I recently found a perfect gift for Christian that would help with his therapy.  It was a Buzz Lightyear Rocket Ship he could drive.  We had to get it, despite there not being a real reason.  It came in a giant box, and Tessie saw the potential immeadiatly.  We spent the first part of the morning assembling the rocket, and I spent the second part of the morning following Tessie's very detailed directions to turn the box into a house.

First, Tessie wanted windows.  She said every house has four windows, and so her's got four.  I was busy with my exacto knife, and Tes was busy giving me orders.  She got more and more excited as her house progressed.  After the windows she requested a chimney, which she pieced together herself.  The final request was for some curtains, so I found myself making eight tiny tissue paper curtains, complete with curling ribbon ties.  Maybe this was a silly way to spend my morning, but the look on Tessie's face when she finally crawled into her house told me otherwise.  Watching her grinning while squished in the cardboard box house was wonderful, and simply beautiful.

Every Inch

This morning Christian had a physical therapy session, bright and early.  I was still in my robe, coffee in hand, and Nick was getting ready for work.  I was slowly making breakfast, peaking my head into the kid's room occasionally to see what Christian was doing.  He has been working on rolling and moving with his physical therapist for well over a year.  The biggest hurdle has always been that he hates being on his tummy.  I'm sure I've written about that before.  His arms were never strong enough to hold himself up, and so his face was always stuck in the carpet.  No fun.  This morning, he was laying happily on his tummy, pushed up high on his forearms, just hanging out.  That was beautiful in itself.  Then something amazing happened.

Nick and I were both standing in the doorway, watching his therapist coax him to roll from his back to his tummy, something he has been doing better and better in the past month.  I was leaning sleepily against Nick and enjoying watching my strong boy working so hard, when suddenly he amazed me.  He started to roll onto his stomach, concentration painted across his face.  He made it onto his tummy, then pushed up high and started to pivot his body towards a toy slightly to his side.  We stared, open mouthed, as he scooted sideways and even a little forward, and grabbed the toy.  He moved about a foot total, the furthest I have ever seen him move by himself.  Then he rolled back onto his back and held the toy up triumphantly. 

We all cheered enthusiastically, and I burst into tears.  For a moment, I couldn't control my emotions, and I just stood there, overwhelmed with love and pride, tears rolling down my cheeks.  Christian was oblivious to my outburst, and continued to play happily.  Nick and I held onto each other, not needing words to express the joy we were sharing.  I know, someday, I will look back on all of this, and it won't seem so painfully long.  I know Christian will be going faster than I can keep up with.  But for now, every roll, every inch, is more beautiful than I could ever express.

First Blood

If you think of a two and a half year old boy, you probably picture scuffed knees, scrapped up elbows, and the occasional goose egged forehead.  This is definitely the case for all of my friend's boys that fall in this age group.  Not so for my boy.  Christian has had very few spills, and those that he has had have been minor.  That is all changing now, as he is getting strong enough to be more independent, and is starting to embrace his innate boy-ness.  A few nights ago, Christian fell out of a kid's chair while at a friend's house.  He went face first into the tile, and got a small bump, which became an even smaller bruise.  Not a big deal, except that it was his first.  Tonight he stepped it up.  He drew blood.

Christian was standing in front of one of our friends during Tessie's birthday party.  He was doing great, enjoying playing with all the kids, and showing off his new strength.  He was more-or-less balancing on his own, using the grown up legs on either side of him for support.  All of a sudden he went forward, right into the tray of a booster chair.  I was sitting next to him and knew this was gonna be rough.  My friend immediately pulled him back upright and I took him in my arms for a hug.  I suddenly thought I should check for blood, something I have never thought of before in Christian's case.  I leaned him away from me, and to justify all his screaming, blood was trickling out of his mouth. 

He stopped crying almost right away, something that impressed me immensely, and he smiled when I offered him a frozen chunk of mango to suck on.  Within a matter of moments, despite the blood on my shirt, there was no sign of the incident.  But I knew that a significant moment had just passed.  Christian splinting his lip on that tray marked the start of a whole new world of rough and tumble adventures.  Boys get dirty, boys play hard, and boys get hurt.  It is absolutely beautiful that Christian is on his way to being just one of the boys.

Partners in Misery

It seems like I get screamed at a lot.  I mean, really, a lot.  In fact, sometimes I have to remind myself that there are plenty of moments in which I am not being screamed at.  Since we have gotten home from our vacation, bedtime for Christian has involved a lot of screaming.  I pull out every trick I know, try every method, but I get the same results.  He screams at me until I get mad, then I feel guilty and we snuggle, then he screams some more, I try not to get mad again, and eventually he falls asleep.  He has been averaging about an hour and a half to settle down.  It hasn't been fun.

Tonight was no different.  I had already been in his room several times, when he started yelling again.  How Tessie sleeps through all of that, I have no idea.  This time I was in the middle of something, so Nick decided to give it a try.  We were both apprehensive, and sure enough, I could tell the moment Nick entered the room by the rise in volume from Christian.  Even though I wanted Christian to fall asleep, I will admit that there was a part of me that was nervous Nick would be too successful, and show me up.  Well I shouldn't have worried.  Poor Daddy got an earful.  He did eventually get him calmed down, and I didn't have to step in.  Although he may have gotten Christian to sleep a little more quickly than I could, it was reassuring that there wasn't a huge difference.  Sometimes, we all just need a partner in our misery to make it less miserable.  As silly as it may sound, the look on Nick's face when he came out of the kid's room was beautiful.

Kids Underfoot

Today I began the dreaded post-vacation full house clean.  I started in the kitchen, and thought it wouldn't take too long, and planned to methodically clean the kitchen, dining, and living rooms.  I must have forgotten why these kinds of plans don't normally work.  Oh yeah, I have two kids.

The kids were both playing happily in their room until I started to clean.  Then they both "needed" my attention every two seconds.  I started to get really agitated, and was about to go down the road of mad mom, fussy kids, and messy house.  Then I decided to try something else.

I brought both the kids in the kitchen with me.  Tessie started spelling words on the fridge with magnets, and Christian sat in a booster chair next to her and tore everything off the fridge that he could.  I tried to ignore any mess they were making and focused on scrubbing the stove top.  It worked.

The kids ended up having a picnic on the newly cleaned kitchen counter, and I finished the dishes, the counters, dusted and wiped down everything, and cleaned the stove.  The kitchen was the only thing I got to today, but I actually think it was a pretty major victory.  It is becoming apparent that if I am going to get things done, it's gonna have to involve the kids somehow.  It may never work again, but for today it worked beautifully.

Tessie preparing the picnic

Bye Bye Bath Seat

Bath time is almost always a happy event in our house.  The kids often stay in, splashing and laughing, until the water is getting cold and their toes are prunes.  The only downside has been that Christian has always needed a bath seat.  Instead of getting smaller bath seats and eventually not needing one at all, Christian's bath seats have gotten bigger and more elaborate.  His current seat is very large and cumbersome.  It hooks over the side of the tub and fully surrounds his mid-section.  It is very helpful in the sense that I don't have to hold him up the entire time, which would be nearly impossible anyway, but it it also hard to wash him in it, and he can't play freely.  I have been looking forward to getting rid of it for ages.

Tonight, for the first time ever, Christian took a bath in our tub without the seat, or any support from me.  He sat in the tub with his sister, like any other two and a half year old, and played with his bath toys without the confines of the seat.  It was awesome.  He did fall to the side once, but I righted him quickly and he kept playing.  I was able to wash him easily, and he was very proud of himself.  I am getting rid of the bath seat tomorrow, and it feels like we are turning over a new page.  Every little step like this one, gets Christian closer to independence, and gets me further away from back pain.  Watching him take a bath with his sister, just a naked happy boy in a tub, was unbelievably beautiful.

Sleep

I am exhausted.  I feel like I have just had the longest day of my life.  I have been going, non-stop, since early yesterday afternoon.  That was when the process of coming home started.  I cleaned the beach house, closed it up, and packed up all of our stuff, which had grown enough to require another suitcase.  We had a wonderful last dinner with my Hawaii family, then rushed off to the airport to catch our 9:56pm flight home.  We finally arrived in New Mexico early this afternoon, the kids had been great, but Nick and I were spent.  We had barely slept, and still had to drive the almost three hours back to Taos.  After our awesome neighbors fed us dinner, we started the uphill battle of trying to get the kids to bed.  Tessie went down fairly easily, but Christian put up a fight.

You would think that a day and a half of traveling would tire a kid out.  Well apparently it just made Christian want to scream at me for two hours.  I guess I understand a little.  Overtired kids are not my favorite thing, not at all.  In between battling with my son, I got Tessie's birthday presents wrapped for the morning.  I just soothed her back to sleep after a scary dream, and now I think everyone is quiet and asleep.  I might actually be able to go to sleep myself.  This is the part I have been waiting for; a full night's sleep in my own bed.  At this moment, I can't think of a single more beautiful thing.

A Beautiful End

I am sitting on an airplane, my kids beside me, and preparing to say goodbye to the island of Hawaii. It is a task that is always hard for me to do, and I am finding this time especially heart wrenching. As we were boarding the plane Tessie said she was a little sad to leave, and I echoed her sentiment. "But mom, the cool thing is, we get to come back!" and that is what makes this trip the best one so far. This is the first trip to Hawaii that my children will remember, and it will be the source of stories and joy for a long time to come. Reminding myself to look forward to the future visits, and not grieve for the one that's ending, is a beautiful challenge to end the trip with.

Close to You

This evening I was cooking a big dinner for my aunt and uncle, and some friends. Our trip was coming to a close, and I wanted to thank them for all their hospitality and generosity. I was making two different dishes, and both were taking up all my concentration. This, of course, made Tessie want to bug me during the entire process.

At first I tried sending her back to her dad after every request she made of me. But she would wander back soon after, needing something else. She didn't want to watch the movie, she didn't want to hang out with her dad, she didn't want to play with her brother. Apparently, she just wanted to drive me bananas.

Finally I gave in. I asked if she wanted to sit on a stool in the kitchen, and watch me cook. She immediately agreed, and I set her up at the end of the counter. She instantly grew quiet, and I realized she was watching the movie in the living room from her perch on the stool. The movie that wasn't at all interesting thirty seconds earlier. I couldn't help but laugh. "Tessie," I said, "did you just want to be with me?" She nodded silently, and kept watching her movie. She didn't bother me once during the remainder of my time in the kitchen. What a beautiful reminder, that sometimes, we just need to be near someone we love.

Snuggling is Better

Today's moment was small.  Small, but perfect.  We had a big, active day today, so this afternoon I snuggled up with the kids in my bed, and watched movies.  Just after the sun set, my aunt came to pick us up.  As I walked the kids out to the car, Tessie looked up at the horizon, and let out a big sigh.  "Aw man," she whined, "we missed the green flash!"  The green flash is a phenomenon that happens when the sun dips below the horizon on the ocean, and whether or not it is real has been greatly debated, but Tessie thinks it's awesome.  I reminded her that we had been snuggling during the sunset, and that's why we missed it.  "Oh well, snuggling is better than the green flash anyway." she stated mater-of-factually, and marched off to the car.  I stared after her, stunned.  She stole my heart all over again, and it was beautiful.

Choosing Joy

I had a rough day with the kids, to say the least. I had a few errands to run, and halfway through them, I had gotten to the end of my rope with Tessie. She was fighting me on every little thing, and I had very little room for discipline since we were out and about.

We met up with my aunt during one of the errands, and then had lunch with her afterward. Tessie managed to turn her behavior around just before frozen yogurt time, conveniently, but Christian made sure I didn't have much downtime. He began yelling when it was time to leave, and generally started causing a big scene. When I asked him if he wanted to get in trouble he looked right at me and said "YEAH!"

The ride home was awful, Christian screamed bloody murder for twenty minutes straight, and although I was using every ounce of control to keep it together and try to speak to him calmly, I finally lost it. "Christian," I yelled, "stop screaming now!" I instantly felt awful for yelling, and it didn't even accomplish a thing, he kept right on screaming, and with renewed vigor. By the time we neared the house, I was in tears.

After I got the kids out of the car, and up on the porch, everyone was finally calm. The kids started to color, and I started to clean up for dinner. Even though the kids were being good, I was in a crabby mood, and being extra short with them. They kept asking to go to the beach, and I kept telling them that they had to wait, because I had to clean. Then I stopped, took an objective look at my situation, and realized what a fool I was. I was choosing to be unhappy. I decided to make a different choice.

I threw on my suit, picked Christian up, grabbed Tes by the hand, and off we went. I told myself I wouldn't loose my temper, I would smile, and I would enjoy this special moment with my kids. And guess what? I did enjoy it. We had a great time, and I didn't have to reprimand anyone for anything. Is it really that simple? Can I be happy just by choosing to be so? It definitely worked today, I turned a super crappy day into an amazingly beautiful evening, and I'm proud of myself for it.

When It Pays Off

Nick and I were faced with the unhappy task, this evening, of taking away a promised treat from our daughter. We had told her that she could have desert after dinner, but due to an extreme behavior melt down on her part, we had to take the privilege away.

As meltdowns often do, this one started slowly, over nothing in particular. She was throwing mini-fits in between bouts of good behavior, and it was becoming unbearable. We kept pulling her back from the dark side with threats of loosing her desert, but we finally had had enough. We warned her that we had given her enough chances, and if she crossed the line one more time... That Was It!

Unfortunately, she tested us again, and we had to stick to our threat. Tessie flipped out. We tried, and managed pretty well, to stay calm and explained that she had every chance to correct her behavior, but chose otherwise, and had to face the consequences. We asked her to calm down before she lost another privilege, and were a little surprised when it worked. And worked well. Not only did Tes calm down, she turned back into the sweet and thoughtful girl a know she really is. We put her to bed without another fuss, and instead she showered us with sweet sentiments and hugs. As crappy as it feels to be the bad guy, it's beautiful when it pays off in the end.

Those Few Minutes

This evening, Nick and I had a rare moment alone. It was even leaning towards romantic. I only say leaning because we were interrupted by screaming children, otherwise it was lovely.

Before dinner tonight, it was apparent that there was going to be a spectacular sunset. We decided to be daring, and try to watch it, just the two of us. I set the kids up with coloring books and crayons, grabbed us a couple of beers, and we made a break for it.

Now don't go reporting us to child services, we were only a few steps away. The kids were sitting on the porch, and we were sitting on the rock wall in the yard, so I could easily attend to them if needed. Sure enough, I was called back to mediate a fight and patch up brother/sister relations, but I made it back to the wall before the sun made its final curtain call.

There was a moment, maybe three or four minutes altogether, when Nick and I sat leaning against each other, watching the sunset, and there wasn't a single peep from the kids. In fact, for a moment I thought I should make sure they were okay, but then I came toy senses and snuggled closer to my husband.

For those few minutes, no one asked me for milk, or to pick up a dropped toy, or to wipe their bottom. For those few minutes I was just a happy wife, enjoying a sweet moment with my husband. That moment ended with more screaming from the porch, but for those few minutes, it was beautiful.

Stepping Back in Time

I spent most of the day exploring the former ranch of my paternal grandfather.  It is now owned by someone else, and it is far from the working cattle ranch it once was, but it still rings with the history of my family.  Until I was four years old, the land had been owned and operated by my family for four generations, myself being the fifth generation to be raised in Hawaii.  My mother spent her youth in the mountains of Kona, and although I spent very little of my own childhood there, I grew up on the stories of the old ranch.

Today was a gift.  The kids and I hung out in the old ranch house, we drove around the property, and we heard stories about my family that I had never heard before.  The highlight of the day came at the top of the ranch.  We drove all the way up to the old water tank that fed the rest of the water tanks on the ranch.  It was a beautiful old tank, made of redwood, and it seemed to speak to me of a different time.  Sadly, it is now falling down, and I was glad my Papa couldn't see it in it's current state.  Just above the tank sat the pump house, and it was surrounded by a layer of concrete.  I set Christian down on the step the concrete created, and took a moment to stretch.  Then I looked down at what Christian was sitting on.

In the concrete there was drawn a date and initials.  The date was January 25th, 1955 and the initials belonged to my Papa.  I was suddenly overcome with emotion.  More than a half century ago, my grandfather traced his initials in the wet concrete, and now, a couple of generations later, his great grandson, whom he never got to meet, was sitting on the same spot.  I know the moment was lost on Christian, maybe someday he will understand the significance when I show him the picture, and tell him the story.  For now I will just fell grateful that I had this beautiful moment, and for an afternoon I felt so close to my Papa again.

Tessie Trumps It

I had planned on writing about something completely different tonight, but then my daughter trumped it. We took much longer than planned getting down to the house tonight. Although we had planned on having dinner once we got back, both kids fell asleep before we made it.

After deliberating on wether or not to wake them up, since it was early and they hadn't had dinner, we decided to leave it up to fate. I tried to get Tessie in first. As I was unbuckling her she started to squirm, and I was worried that she was going to wake up. But instead of having to console a sleepy girl, she stayed in a deep slumber on my shoulder.

As I walked up the stairs she shifted her weight, and slipped her arm around my neck. I was suddenly overcome with an intense love for this little being I created. I held her tighter, and regrettably lay her down in bed. I managed to get both kids in bed, put a pull-up on Tes, a clean diaper on Christian, and walk away without waking either of them up. I tiptoed back over to gaze at my daughter. The memory of her arm holding tight to me made every time I have been mad at her, ever, completely disappear. There isn't much that can compare with the love of a child, it is simply the most beautiful thing imaginable.

Winning Over the Kids

My poor uncle has been trying to win the affection of my children for the last three weeks.  When I was little he was so much fun, but you can't communicate these things to children.  Unfortunately, they have to discover how awesome a person is on their own.  He has tried giving them cookies, telling them stories, and just hugging them despite struggles and tears.  So far, it has been to no avail.  Tonight, he made big strides.

He was getting ready to feed the dogs, and we asked Tessie if she wanted to go too.  She was very excited, and Christian picked up her enthusiasm and ran with it.  I pulled some jeans on Tes, and put Christian in the stroller.  He got a little worried when my uncle took the stroller from me, but he quickly forgot his qualms when my uncle popped a wheelie.  I watched their little threesome walk off into the dark.  Just when they got to the edge of the porch Tessie turned to my uncle and said "Thank you Uncle Tommy."  She had no idea I was watching, it was completely unsolicited.  It melted my heart, and I imagine my uncle's as well.  It was a wonderfully beautiful moment, and one that is hopefully the start of many adventures to come.

My Knight in Aloe Armor

Writing tonight's post is like admitting that I'm an idiot. I spent the entirety of my teenage years trying to constantly darken my skin, and lighten my hair. To say the least, I know a little about getting a tan, and avoiding getting burned. At least, I thought I did.

A few days ago Nick offered to give me some time off to lay in the sun and read my book. By myself. Well that sounded exactly like heaven to me, so I took him up on it. I got greased up, lay a towel out, and proceeded to relax. I wasn't out for too long, and felt like I came in in time to avoid a burn. I should have stopped there.

About an hour later, Nick ran to the store, and my mom stopped by to play with the kids. Christian was napping, and Tes was searching for shells with my mom. I saw the perfect opportunity for some more me time in the sun. Every mother has probably done this at some point, I have been covering and re-covering my kids in sunscreen all day, but it never occurred to me to reapply my own sunscreen. You can probably guess what happened next.

For the last two days I haven't been able to lean back against anything without wincing. My back, mainly the part normally covered by my suit, is the most amazing shade of pink, and it is extremely sensitive. What in the world could be beautiful about an excruciating sunburn? Well, nothing really, except for the way my husband has responded to it.

He has been nursing me for the last few days. Applying lotion, and cold washcloths. Tonight, as he placed an icy cold washcloth on my back, and I almost shrieked with surprise and pain, I felt an undeniable sense of comfort. He removed the cloth once I had warmed it up, and rubbed me down, very gently with aloe lotion. Even though every touch was awful, I knew it meant he really cared. Especially because he never teased me for being a complete idiot, and getting myself burned in the first place. I'm hoping his nursing duties won't be needed much longer, but for now he is like my knight in aloe armor, and to me, that's pretty beautiful.

Entertainment in the Bathroom

I had one of those afternoons that doesn't involve any non-kid moments. Not that many of my afternoons do, but this one felt particularly burdened. This was most likely because I was trying to have some time for myself.

I was hanging out with my aunt, and trying to help her prep for her super bowl shindig, but I kept being interrupted by my children needing things. Tessie needed a snack or a drink, Christian mostly just needed me. I was trying not to get too frustrated, after all, I am supposed to be taking care of them I suppose (imagine a big sigh right about now.)

The straw on this camel's back came when I tried to go to the bathroom. That should be sacred mom time, right? For all the stuff we put up with all day, shouldn't we get to pee in peace? Well, apparently not. I sat down, and Tes walked in. She burst through the door and walked over to me, leaving the door wide open behind her. "Tessie," I said calmly, "it really isn't polite to walk in on someone in the bathroom." "Why?" she asked. I tried to explain that people, meaning me, liked to go to the bathroom alone, and that she could at least knock. She looked at me for a moment, considering what I'd said, then she shrugged. "I was just checking to see if anyone was taking a shower." She pulled back the shower curtain, and when she saw no one was there, she marched back out of the bathroom, leaving the door open behind her. You may loose any shred of privacy possible when you become a mother, but at least you gain entertainment in the bathroom. And every once in a while, it can be surprisingly beautiful.

Following Imaginary Footsteps

This evening Nick suggested that we all go out onto the sand to watch the sunset together. The kids and I thought it was a great idea, so we all marched over to a good spot, and sat down. The area we sat in is one that we haven't taken the kids to much, because it isn't by the water. But when I was a child, it was my favorite place to play.

I showed the kids the coconut tree I planted when I was a little girl and they looked at me like I must be really old, to have planted a tree that big! Then I showed them my kitchen. There were several large rocks in the middle of the sand, and when I was young they were the perfect fridge, oven, and sink. My kids thought that was awesome, and soon began to have playtime of their own. Tessie started to designate where the bedroom and dining room were, and Christian made me macaronis and cookie dough on the stove. I was caught up in a wave of nostalgia, and thought how beautiful it was to see my children carry on in my imaginary footsteps.