Everyday Conversations Episode 1

This morning on the way to preschool....

Me: Sam, where's your school bag?

Sam: Mom, school bags are for losers.

Me: Oh, so you're not carrying a bag anymore? Where are you going to put your work?

Sam: Mom, you don't know anything about being cool. I'll fold it and put it in my pockets.

Me: So, I'm not cool?

Sam: Are you kidding me. Don't make me repeat myself.
________________________

This exchange happened in the car. Once the car was parked, my very COOL 4 year old had a meltdown and had to be carried in. Before we walked in the door to his classroom he told me he needed a minute. I put him down and he walked away a few feet and wiped his eyes and then did a little wiggle. Maybe he was shaking it off. Then he turned around, gave me a fist bump and walked in to class like he owned the place. Then he yelled "hey guys, sorry I'm late, I had to chill out a little".

Kids are weird. Period. 

Especially, this one.

Sometimes I need a megaphone

My kids are screamers. It's all they do lately. They scream at each other, me, the neighbor's idiot dog, my sisters, their cousins. I'm in the market for a megaphone or one of those really annoying horns they use at football games. I just want to scare them a little and shut them up a lot. Kids are loud. My ears are tired.

While I was having my 'holy crap you kids are damn loud' meltdown I found this...

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! Genius. Now, does anyone have a real megaphone I could borrow?

My kids are stupid awesome.

On Sunday morning I piled my kids in to the car and drove up the mountain to Sundance for a little breakfast and some quiet time away from what is THE WORST WEEK in the history of weeks. Maybe you've had worse weeks. Maybe. I doubt it. But, try me.

Mine went something like this. Death. Cancer. Chemo. Surgery. Stitches. Radiation. Chemo. Wal Mart. Death. Dancing. Crying. Insomnia.


The details are fascinating. I promise. But, I'm still not sure how I want to remember the mess. So, I'll just tell you that in all of the drama of the week, while I felt helpless and a little bit out of control, my kids were pretty remarkable. And, in all of her grief, the little one with fresh stitches lifted me and comforted me and told me "sometimes some of us just get all the hard stuff because other people will freak the heck out." She's a wise one. 

The last couple of years have mostly.... sucked. My kids learned quickly how to handle things my parents had a hard time dealing with. Cancer is scary. Mom's with cancer are super scary. Big changes at home are unsettling and can cause kids years of worry. They understand fear and grief. They have endured plenty of both. And they surprise me everyday with how much they do to overcome both... every single day. My champion dancer, and my middle blondie with freckles for days and humor for miles, and my boy who learned to cope early by putting everything in to his drawings. My kids are stupid awesome.


Today I miss my tiny dog who died last Saturday. I didn't realize how much I loved him and how much space he really filled in our home. It is quiet now. My kids are so noisy, but it is still quiet without him there. Last summer I went through six solid weeks of chemotherapy. It was my first summer home full time.... ever. It should have been so fun. But, I was sick.

Fenway - The day we brought him home.

We spent many hours piled in my big bed watching movies last summer. That tiny dog never left me. He knew. It was like he needed to be there to hear that I was OK. On nights I wasn't OK, he would bark and wake up the whole house if I woke up and needed something. He knew. As I near hard days like those again, I miss his comfort. Instead, I have a 35 lb kid with a huge head climbing up next to me in the dark and snuggling his giant head in to my neck. He talks in his sleep and begs for drinks in the middle of the night. Right around 2am he'll scream "I need to pee". It's a treat.


For the first time in my life I felt the creeping  depression start to find its way in. It is not a natural feeling for me and it worried me. So, naturally, I just doubled up on my "happy" pills. Kidding. I just got my running shoes out and got back on the road and it helped a lot. 

I am sad that my children have to go through so much and that I can't hide the hard things in the world from them. On the flip side, I want them to know the hard stuff early and learn how to handle it well now so that they can spend their energy on better things and overcome the shitty shit life might deal them with ease. I'm also making sure they always have a good pair of runners for the days that things blow.


-W

 

It's you. Totally knew it!

I remember the day Ben was born. I remember staring down at him and thinking "Oh hi you! Of course it's you." Like we were old friends. Like we'd always known each other. Like we had always been connected. Like we shared a secret. And, we did.

He captivated me. He was perfect. And he was only mine for 48 hours. And then, he was theirs. Letting him go began well before his birth. Still there are not words for the kind of grief that held me for many days following his adoption. And then, one day, months later, it lifted and now what I remember most is not the pain, but instead I remember that I knew him and that he knew me and we had a secret. We had an agreement.

I work with a sweet girl who has been chosen with her husband to adopt a baby boy when he arrives in December. She met the birth mother recently and she had that "Oh hi you! Of course it's you" moment. What could be more comforting to a young woman not yet ready to be a mother and a woman who has tried for many years in vain to have a child? Like a friendship had been renewed and an agreement remembered.

I struggle with God daily. I struggle with much of the organization in the church I was raised in. But, oddly, I never struggle to find or recognize what I know can only be the hand of something much greater in my life.

I have girlfriends that I have looked at and said "Oh hi you! Of course it's you." Like how the hell did this reunion take so long? These women... I love them. I love them with that deep choked up grateful kind of love.

I have a brother who I know I've been connected to for time that spans far beyond this life. And I have these children who are so totally mine. As they grow I have those "Oh hi you!" moments often.

I wonder if they'll have that with Ben. I know they have it with some cousins and a couple of my friends who have firmly planted themselves in to our inner circle, and they have an unbreakable bond with their uncle. Odds are pretty good.

I'm kind of a girl about this mushy stuff. But, I'm not a Candyass. Wussy girl, yes. Candyass, no. 

He belongs to me.

This week we celebrated 4 years with this little one. We didn't do much. He's pretty easy to please. The only thing he ever wants to do is draw. So, he got a stack of sketch books and some fancy colored pencils and even fancier markers. It was top notch stuff. It was upstaged by a $1 bubble wand (which he refers to as his sword) from my little sister. Honestly people, all it takes is a buck!

He is the perfect ending to the baby making chapter of my life. Honestly, I decided a long time ago that I was done. Then I waffled and thought that there may be a reason to keep that door open. Then cancer made the decision for me. I hate cancer a little bit more for that. Mostly because I'm the boss and having something be the boss of me for awhile was total BS.

I am surprised by him every day. The kid can draw 3d shapes and spell the word trapezoid and he knows all of the planets in the correct order and he can sing every Justin Beiber song without help (don't judge, he has sisters) and he is the best pancake flipper in our house. The best part of my day is when I spend the last few minutes of the day with him and he tells me how great his day was. Every day is a great day with him. He never complains. He sees good in everything.

Fact is, though, that this kid is totally the boss of me.

My very best memories... and theirs

I have awesome kids. I do. They are smart and funny and terribly clever.

We went to my Papa's grave a couple of weeks ago to drop off some flowers and notes and blow him dozens of kisses. I have a hard time not welling up when I visit him. I was five when he died. I remember learning how to ride a horse that day. I have very few clear memories of my childhood. But, that day feels like it was etched or carved in to me so I would never forget. Like a tattoo on the insides. It would be an image of me on a brown and white painted pony with a red ribbon braided in her white tail. And, me in my very worn and faded Harvard sweatshirt with a big huge wad of pink gum stuck in my long blond hair and a pair of dirty black boots up to my knees.

I loved him madly. He was quite possibly the most handsome man... ever. He had dark hair and was always tan and had the happiest eyes I'd ever seen. His smile lines made it look like he was always smiling. I remember him only happy, only healthy, only smiling. He had cancer. It took his life terribly fast and far too early.

While we were standing there, at his grave, Molly said "he's probably really glad he's missing this mess" and pointed to Sam. It broke my heart just a little while I sucked in a little laugh.

He would have so loved these children. These little ones I'm watching run around a campfire on the beach right this minute. Yes, I'm letting them run around a fire. We are on vacation. I'm giving the rigid mom bit a break this week. Oh wait, that's not even in my repertoire. I'm even more relaxed than normal this week.

I have smile lines like his. They only show up because I have been in the sun so much. I'll take them though. They are great reminders of this week that made my kids fall in love with the best parts of my favorite places. I don't remember everything the way I remember the day my papa died. I wish so much that I still had all of my journals that document the best days of my life so that I could share those days with my kids. The ones they ask about all the time... what my family was like growing up, what my friends were like, my first kiss, my first love, dances, dates, and heartbreaks.

I want to help them make the best memories and hear about the good ones that happen without me and help them through the times that will deliver their worst. Mostly, I just want them to have full, colorful lives. Like me. But, also, I want them to remember them!
 

No Talk List : Police Edition

I got pulled over the other day. It's a habit of mine. I seem to attract them everywhere I go. Over the past few years I've been pulled over in multiple states for a variety of reasons. None of those reasons included speeding.

Sam was in the car when the cop came to the window to talk to me. Sam's window was also down. He did not want to miss the action. The idea that mom could get in trouble was so exciting that he was giggling uncontrollably. Molly was also in the car and was quivering in the third row of my ginormous vehicle.

The officer just wanted to tell me that I had a brake light out. He was very nice and talked to Sam for a few minutes and then wrote a pretend ticket for Molly. She nearly peed her pants. As the officer started to walk back to his car she yelled from her crouched position in the 3rd row, "put it on my tab". I am pretty sure I snorted to keep from laughing out loud. Dan in Real Life is one of our favorite movies.

The officer stopped for a second and then turned back around and peeked through her window and then put his fist up to the glass to give her some stones. She didn't bother putting her hand to the glass. Instead she stuck her tiny hand through the opening in the rear windows that only crack open a few inches so she could give him real stones... the exploding kind. Or, as our Mel has recently learned, "Sparkle Stones".

Not to divert too far from the movie references, on our way home from dinner with Mel at Flour Girls & Dough Boys tonight Molly started to tell me about a movie she was watching on Netflix the other night. It had some police officers that drove around their town all crazy and then they kidnapped a high school kid and let him shoot their guns and set their car on fire and say that one really bad word a lot.

Yes. She was referring to SUPERBAD. And, I'm officially the worst mother ever and have now changed the Netflix password and removed the app from their iPods and the iPad and the computers and the Wii and have been labeled the "Murderer of Fun". Someday, I'm sure I'll be called worse than that. For now, I need to try to figure out how to wash her teeny little brain out and fill it back up with butterflies and unicorns and fairy godmothers.

Still not quite as funny as the sex with a sandwich bit from Stockton, but this girl has the ability to easily surpass her cousin in time.

Fifth Grade & Kisses

This morning, while combing the natural disaster out of Abby's hair, I asked her about a party she was invited to by one of her classmates. It's her first boy/girl party. It's being thrown by the boy that likes her. They have a group of friends that hangs out at recess and plays kickball or football or one of their many odd variations of tag. They're all going to this party. The more questions I asked, the more it was clear that this party was perfectly balanced. Seven girls, seven boys. And then, I did the unthinkable.

"Ab, is this party for couples?"

"Mom, are you serious? I mean, oh mah gawsh, that is like the stupidest thing I have every heard you say in your entire life."

I didn't bother to interrupt the tirade and remind her that she's only known me HER entire life. I said way stupider things when I was in my teens... twenties... early thirties even. I let her go on...

"You think we're all boyfriend and girlfriend. That is so lame. I can't believe you think I'm all in to Allen like that. He's so weird. He's always trying to sit by me at lunch and help me with stuff and it's so embarrassing because I totally don't need a boy helping me with anything..."

This is where her sentence runs on for another ten minutes and I think about the fact that my ten year old is all kinds of liberated and shiz. I stared at her for the next several minutes of the tirade and heard something about Justin Bieber and flipping hair and being like totally obsessed with Mumford and Sons and how she thought it was cute that he liked them because she's been listening to them like forever. (that would be because I've got a serious music habit). And, then, because I'm an idiot, I did it again.

"You like him."

She blushed her first little girl crush blush and I had to do everything possible to keep a straight face.

"Seriously, it's cool if you like a boy Abby. It's totally normal and he's a really nice kid."

"Mom, I'm not having this discussion with you. I mean, it's like not even something you get because you were in the 5th grade like f-o-r-e-v-e-r ago."

"Abby, I had my first boyfriend in the 5th grade. His name was Todd Davies. He lived on my street and we were in the same class in the 5th grade."

"Mom, stop it, nobody wants to know about your first boyfriend a million years ago. And, Allen is not my boyfriend. I just think he's funny and he's kind of cute and his favorite color is purple which is really cool for a boy....."

She went on for another ten minutes. I had a mild heart attack/stroke and started seeing spots and thought I might throw up and sat down on the edge of the bathtub.

"So, did you kiss that Todd guy?"

I'm not cut out for this stuff. Really, I'm not. But, I'm also not afraid to tell her the truth about anything. I'm just hoping this line of questioning stops here for a few years.

"Yep. I did. It was hilarious. He was chewing orange bubble gum. So nasty. I never kissed him again."

I'm pretty sure she was grossed out just enough about the gum that she might put the whole idea of kissing a boy on a shelf for a few years. Even with the questions, I'm certain she isn't really thinking about kissing this Allen kid. I hope.

On another note, Molly, my 7 year old, is likely planning her first kiss as I write this. I'm certain that I will never have this conversation with her. She's going to be the one to give me the real stroke.

For now, I'd like them both to stay just like this...

My tiny tribe.

I might talk about shoes more than I talk about my kids. Just so they don't come asking me all kinds of questions one day... I should probably say something. I mean, I'd totally give up shoes and Diet Coke for these three.

Meet my little dancing queen and the other mother in our home, my littler drama queen with a better fashion sense than many of my adult friends, and my tiny, (large headed because his brain is hugemongous) brilliant, soon-to-be world renowned, artist.

sundance, ut  :  late summer  :  2010

Living in Utah has its perks. Sundance is one of them. It's one of our spots. It smells like heaven up there year round. The skiing is easy for kids. The hiking is amazing. I can't even tell you how beautiful the miles of aspens are. The way their leaves tinkle when the wind blows. It's one of my favorite sounds of this place I have not always loved. The more I wanted to get out of this state, the harder it seemed to hold on to me. I mean, there is really no better place on earth if you're diagnosed with some rare form of Cancer.  I got lucky and had amazing care. And, thankfully I got to stay with this three amazing little people in this place I finally really love.

This one though... he's a problem.

fenway  : 6 months

He eats everything. You know, things like crayons, mechanical pencils, blocks, chair legs, chaptsick, flip flops, toilet paper, baby wipes, grass, and chalk. He'd move in to the garbage can or composter if I let him. We should have named him Pigpen. I hate that I have to carry a lint remover with me all the time. And, I'm getting a little tired of his evening liaisons in the playroom with the giant stuffed tiger. He's a horndog. Yes, the little snip-snip didn't solve the humping problem. Lucky he has the cutest dog face ever and he knows how to use it.

These little ones, even the teeny one, are kind of awesome. We're heading in to the years that they won't always think I'm awesome. Some days I get the "worst mom ever" label. Now it's over things like homework and beets and brushing teeth. Soon enough it will be about boys and texting and curfews and cars. I'll take it all. I think it means I must be doing my job.

My Shoes. My Brand. My Fears.

"It's not the brand of the shoes that matters. It's how you wear them, right?"
This is what my 10 year old said to me this morning. I debated between these two before finally leaving the house with the pretty suede ones on hoping that I'd avoid the bit of expected rain.

What I didn't say, because it proves that I am a shallow shoe whore, is that it is sometimes about the brand of the shoe. But, just as that thought crossed my mind she said, "It's like a part of your own personal brand, huh?" Oh em gosh... She listens to me and she gets it! Eeeeeeeeee!!!!  She understands that we put our own brands out there every day. The messages we send, the way we work with others, the way we carry ourselves, the way we cover ourselves, and a multitude of other things that people see, remember, and form opinions from.

She's a smart kid. She gets what 95% of the clients I work with don't get. Most of them believe brands and logos are one in the same. Some of them have resumes that include marketing job after marketing job after marketing job. And, still, my 10 year old is smarter. Today I realized that she hears me. She understands what I tell companies to do every day. She listens. It made me a tiny bit misty.

I have worried endlessly about these 3 little ones. What if they don't hear me when I tell them that fairy tales are real, best friends are hard to find and easy to love and impossible to let go, love is real, and kissing (especially French) is pretty much the second best thing EVER. (If you have to ask what the first best thing ever is... we might have to have a talk.) And, that they can be whatever they want because they're brilliant, clever, creative, beautiful, and totally completely awesome people. I want them to fear nothing and to try everything.

Maybe they all hear me. The fact that the oldest could even put the idea of a brand in to words gives me hope. She may have been listening to what I say to clients or co-workers on the phone and not necessarily to what I say to her. It's cool. I'll take the baby steps. As long as they are in fantastic shoes.

CREAM & SUGAR

My 2 year old consumed a tiny bowl of sugar and drank straight from a miniature pitcher of cream at a very brief lunch we shared with my highly entertaining friend Melissa. Sam kinda stole the show. I am sure that the Mother of The Year award is not far off.

OK, so that will never ever happen. But, I have a mother and she was Teacher of the Year last year. Let me tell you, she earned that stupid little plaque on her wall and the big bonus that went with it. She teaches special education and she loves it. Best of all, they love her. It is absolutely what she was meant to do. I have always been proud of her. She works harder than anyone I know and continues to take on extra projects, provide extra service, and make time for her kids, all six of us, and her sixteen grandchildren. She's remarkable.

She's also funny as hell and she has more stories than any single person I know. Earlier today we were sitting around her big dining room table listening to the funny stories of the week from the oldest grand kids. One of them said something that none of us can remember because my mom started to laugh until tears were rolling out of her eyes and down her cheeks. This alarmed the babies and the dog. They were all crying too. We just waited for the story. And, it was so worth it.

She has a study hall period for kids to come in and get a little bit of extra help with math or science, or anything they may be struggling with. She has a group of girls that come in and use a corner to study together. They mostly talk about boys and other girls. The last time came in they were passing a bottle of lotion around and talked about how great it smelled and how soft it made their skin and how much certain boys liked it. These are 16 year old girls that may not be as witty as the slutty cheerleaders on Glee but the voices are a dead match. Somewhere during the conversation one of the girls explained that she got the bottle of lotion from her mom and that the coolest part about it was that it was also edible. She then reads from the bottle "Good for an intimate midnight snack." And some girls sampled!

My mom was sitting at her desk texting the teacher in the room next door a play by play of this conversation. They decide she needs to confiscate this bottle of lotion and encourage the girls to study. She takes the bottle and puts it on her desk and takes a few photos of it so that she doesn't forget. The funniest part, for me, was that the name of this product was Cream & Sugar edible body lotion.

I suppose that even funnier than that is the fact that it first belonged to her mother. My mom will never look at that parent the same again. She's no Candyass though, she'll still look her dead in the eye and be fair, but she might giggle a little at the same time.

Can't really fault anyone for keeping a little sizzle in their life, but for giving a little bit of the sizzle to a kid is totally stupid and terribly comical.

Holy smokes... I'm a mom.

I didn't always know I wanted to be a mom. I never saw it in my future. I didn't even have vague ideas about getting married, what a wedding might be like, or anything after that. I knew I'd have a career. I knew I'd travel. I knew I'd love deeply and have amazing friendships. I didn't think about getting married until I was faced with the question. And, the thought of children seemed so foreign. I had never made any plans. Which may be why some plans just happened for me... (yes, with my participation)

I got pregnant in college. Yes, unmarried. GASP! Yes, at that LDS owned school in Provo, UT. DOUBLE GASP! Yes... I was totally naughty. I own it. I embrace it. I never thought about the possibility of keeping the baby. And, his birth father didn't stick around to really find out what I chose. He chose to leave. I chose adoption. It was easy... until the moment I had to do it. But, everything about that year was actually very easy. I was 20. I never regretted getting pregnant. I wasn't embarrassed. It just seemed to be part of my path. (Oh, and BTW, didn't get booted from said school but that's a story for another day. Put simply, I wasn't a Candyass in college.)

Benjamin was born in December 1995. In 18 months the records open. I realized that fact not too long ago and was overwhelmed with this still foreign, maternal kind of pride and excitement and relief. I get to meet him again. That whole revelation sparked something new in me. It made me question what kind of a mother I am, what kind of a mother I want to be, and what kind of a mother my kids want me to be. And, I made some changes.

I made a list of things I would begin to do immediately and continue to do every day. And, I made a list of things I want to do with them and for them.

NOW
- Hug them tight always.
- Play with them.
- Tell them how beautiful they are every day, as often as I can.
- Ignore the the unimportant, like crazy wardrobe choices.
- Read with them every night before bed.
- Save the artwork... all of it.
- Nurture their talents and help them grow.
- Show them how to be a good friend... a best friend.
- Tell them stories about my childhood, growing up, my family, friends, proms, everything! (this one actually caused some problems... see below)
- Be a cheerleader. (tempted to get a uniform)
- Talk to them. Tell them what they ask to know. Be honest.
- LISTEN.

AS THEY GROW UP
- Take them everywhere! Give them the travel bug and hope it stays for life.
- Give them a place in the world that feels like their own. (Mine is Boothbay Harbor, Maine. I spent every summer there as a child and am forever in love with it's charm and generosity and simplicity.)
- Let them choose their path, their school, their career.
- Never miss the big things, and show up often for the small.
- Make sure that they build strong connections with each other.
- Celebrate everything!

We built a fort yesterday. It's hilarious and now full of treasured toys, a stack of library books (i love the library), coloring books, crayons, pillows, and snugly blankets. The giant easel Sam got for his birthday is perched at one corner and has "beware of the dog" written on the side facing out. You have to know the secret handshake to get in. I've been refused half a dozen times now.

When I did get in the fort, they all wanted to gab. So we did nothing for an hour but talk to each other. Abby, my oldest, was curious about when I was her age and then when I was in middle school and then asked about high school and specifically my first dance and what I wore and who my date was and I couldn't remember. I can't remember huge spans of time in my life. People say that becoming a mom does that to you, but I can't believe it can be to this degree. I have massive gaps that I feel like I just put away somewhere.
I want all of the memories back. The fun ones, the hard ones, the ones that were so bad that they made me suppress huge parts of my life. I don't necessarily need them all for me. But, I need them for THEM. And, so that when I meet Benjamin again I'll be able to tell him about me... the good, the bad, the ugly. But, not the Candyass. Not today anyway. I mean, I just put the biggest secret (that I remember) out there... and I'm glad I did.

I'm grateful for these new times with my children. I realize that I'm not always fun and I'm not always generous with my time, my words, or my hugs. But, trying to be has changed a lot between the four of us.