Quiet

Very distinctly, I recall worrying early on that she would never talk. She was such a quiet baby; there was always so much to take in, talking must have seemed unnecessary.

Five years later, she's a chatterbox who becomes a very sad little girl when without an audience. She loves to talk. It doesn't matter if she's talking to herself or someone else, there is always a conversation to be had. Being "shushed" is the ultimate punishment for Miss Ellie.

It's funny how babies come to us. Each of my three have their own story; each a bit different, but all the same in the ways that matter most. For Ellie, her quietness is a part of her story. She has been easy going from the very first moments. She was quiet in the womb, maybe that was contentedness, but I worried about her quiet nature from the very beginning.

She didn't make me sick for weeks and weeks. She didn't roll and move; I don't recall her fetal bouts of the hiccups. She just nestled in and grew, quietly. She missed what I thought to be her due date, I'm sure she just didn't want to impose... when the doctor insisted, she came into the world, strong and pink and perfect and not all that noisy.

She looked nothing like me, taking after her father, she quietly made our family complete. She and Gavin and Monte all look like they belong together. Benett and I are the odd ones with dark hair and eyes. She just belonged; assumed her position as the baby of the family.

That baby has grown so much and despite her love of talking, she's done it quietly. Not in the sense of volume... that's something she's mastered right along with her vocabulary. Her quietness is in her being. She has this wonderful willingness to try. She doesn't fret a whole lot... she's more interested in getting to it, putting her head down and doing. That's one of the things that I love most about her.

I've hardly noticed how she came to be five. It seems impossible. She'll start kindergarten next year and after that her first day of college. *sigh* Although that will come all too quickly, today we celebrated five. A hand full of years; no more trying to keep that pesky thumb down.

Her request was chocolate cake... and a picture with her two favorite boys. They were happy to quietly oblige.

Wisdom

Yesterday we took the little people to the YMCA, to swim. It's a treat for them to go there. I love it because it's a new environment with lots of new people. The little people love it for one reason and make a bee line for the pool.

Before we even arrived, they were begging to stay longer. They wasted little time doffing their warm, winter gear in favor of their swimming suits. The walk down to the pool deck must have been like an eternity for them. We shouted several reminders to walk... WALK... and they were off. Plashing and playing in the water for 3-1/2 hours, until they were satisfactorily pruney did they emerge, in a state of complete and utter starvation.

Back into our cold weather gear and we were off down the street, to see what kind of treat we could find at the co-op. With a cookie in hand, it was easy to see the delight and contentment in each of their gleaming faces.

Benett was especially giddy, so much so that he shared a list of three things he likes most in the world. I'm not sure how the topic came up, but that little exchange will live in my heart for ever and for always.

Benett "Mom, do you want to know what I like most? There are three things."

Mom "Of course. Tell me."

Benett "First, I like the fair; the one where there are rides and stuff. Second, I like Love... you know our family. And last I like fishing. Well, maybe I like fishing first... but I definitely like Love too."

That little boy's wisdom is pretty special, and I agree with him... I like Love too.

Elbows

On Saturday evening, Ellie informed me that, "Penguins don't have elbows." That simple little nugget of wisdom came to her at church. It was also something that must have given me an entertained expression, because Ellie went on to tell everyone seated in the pews around her, the very same thing. The chuckles must have emboldened our priest; the ensuing homily seemed more lengthy than usual.

On Sunday, Benett was adamant that for each story we read, the ending had to change. He wanted the first time through to be read as written. The second time around, he requested a new ending. Okay... Interesting request... and not all that easy, especially when the literature topic is rainbows. I don't know many alternate endings that don't involve ROY G. BIV.  Reading to a child is not always an easy thing to do, and shouldn't be taken lightly... There is a lot going on in those young minds.

Gavin also had a request yesterday, one that topped them all. He wanted to wrestle. He wanted to wrestle with everyone in the house. No matter how big or small. He wanted to really, wrestle. The whole deal. No half-measures allowed. After getting his wish, he wanted to watch wresting tutorials on YouTube, only to ask everyone to wrestle again, so he could inflict his new moves.

All three of these examples can mean only one thing. The little people have got full-blown cabin fever. Everyone is restless and tired of being cooped up. The adults included; I'm beyond tired of the treadmill and the same old view.

So we made an effort to get some measured doses of outdoors. A nice long snowshoe trek, with sled in tow, meant that Ellie had an opportunity to live like her elbow-less penguins for an hour. Gavin was able to burn off some of his energy goo. And my run, outside, yesterday reminded me that there are good things about the treadmill. Temperature and incline control topping the list.

As for Benett... well he was no dummy. He wanted nothing to do with the -32 wind-chill. He opted to remain inside. As a result, we're planning a pool-side hotel stay for next weekend. I'm not sure I can take two weekends in a row of alternate ending requests.

Grin

It's her natural smile. You know she is loving whatever is in her midst, when this glowing grin is on her sweet little face. Eyes squished by those plump, rosy cheeks... and that one tiny little dimple...

That tiny little dimple, and her silly little smile are just what I need to brighten my days.

Days need brightening, when from out of the blue, life throws us a curve ball and introduces change. Life is full of change, but in this season of change, it is decidedly not something I'm looking forward to with excitement.

We are faced with losing our church, a gift passed down through the years, since 1913, to myself and my little people.

That gift is being taken from us. We have been informed that our church is no longer viable. Despite a building in good repair and a bank account adequate to sustain our needs. We will be asked to worship someplace else. Our faith community will cease to exist. Because it's small. Because it's rural.

That small, rural place is my faith. It's a legacy that's been passed down and entrusted to us, by those who came before. With it goes my faith. With it goes a part of me... with it goes the dream I'd had for the little people.

I'd very much have liked to see this little clenched grin, standing before the same alter as I had, receiving her first communion... confirmation... marriage... and the baptism of her own children.

Sadly, someone who doesn't know us has decided that isn't important. History, our roots, are things that are easily transferable.

I don't agree. History is important. Where we come from matters.

Life is full of change. I don't know what will happen over the course of the coming months... but one thing I know to be certain is that this infectious grin will continue to brighten my days, even when those days include a sense of uncertainty...

Maybe that tiny little dimple should be my new religion. After all, that sweet little grin is like magic, teeming with the power to heal.

Musings

These days, we are finding notes all around the house. Benett has a great love for drawing and art, which has recently been accompanied by a love for "mail." He leaves his sweet little letters wherever he thinks they'll be noticed and read. Some of his little musings aren't postmarked at all, they're just cut or taped together or randomly left laying around.

One place most of them are not - in a notebook.

With that in mind, Santa had his thinking cap on this year and decided to give B a fun book in which to keep his drawings. Since December, he's taken it to church or wrestling tourneys or just in the car, adding some fantastic images. When its full, I'll stash it away. I already can't wait to rediscover and enjoy the creativity.

Because the vast majority of his drawing is of the loose-leaf variety... and way too cute/funny/sweet to recycle... stacks and stacks of paper can be found around my house. On the kitchen counter, in the secretary, my bathroom, the entry way, his bedroom, my car, my desk at the office... and the list goes on and on.

I'm not a huge fan of clutter, but as stacks of paper go, his are my favorite kind.

Behind

It’s safer back there, lingering in the protective shadow of someone with whom you've entrusted your love. This is where we find Ellie much of the time. She’s behind him, but don’t interpret that as weakness… she’s perfectly capable of standing on her own, she just prefers to be close to him. And she’s happy to let him take the lead, on the days when being bold doesn’t seem like the thing to be.

She prefers the familiarity.

He enjoys that she is most likely thinking the same thing he is… and when she’s not, its great fun to have a laugh about her silly thinking.

She prefers the partnership.

He enjoys having a slower partner in crime… but wishes that she could or would keep a secret for more than 10 seconds. She’s just too honest for him sometimes.

She prefers his brand of rivalry.

He enjoys playing the role of teacher, with such an eager student.

We don’t worry about Ellie standing behind her brother. They are true to themselves and hold each other up… No matter who’s in front, or whether they’re together, they both prefer to be a pair.

Goodbye

When I think about saying goodbye to someone, in death, I think of the movies… where tearful souls sit bedside, telling their loved one how much their life has meant to them. In the movies, characters seem to express to the full extent their feelings, at which time their beloved is able to peacefully slip into the arms of God.

In reality, saying goodbye can happen bit by bit, over a long period of time, without our awareness. Sneaking up on us and stealing a person long before they’ve left from this world.

Yesterday, we said goodbye to my grandmother.

Granny, as she liked to be known, began her departure long before her body was ready to rest. That is the heavy burden of this sadness that lingers. It’s the nagging voice in the back of my mind, chiding me for not spending more time with this woman who meant so much to me, telling her how I felt… recalling memories together and not just listening to her, but taking the time to better hear what she was saying.

I think (I hope) in her heart she knew how much she meant to me. Even so, I wish I’d done a better job. There is no substitute for telling someone how much you love them.

So we gathered, we remembered and we honored this woman who was so complex and so loving… this woman who seemed to emanate confidence in self and possessed this ability to speak the difficult truths… this woman without whom three generations wouldn’t be gracing the Earth, with their own gifts and love to share with those surrounding them.

If I had one more chance, I’d just tell her that I love her, “a bushel and a peck.” The conversation could be short, but ideally taking place in her garden, in the green bean row to be exact.

Lessons

Sports are important to Monte and me. It's important for us to see the little people working with other kids as a part of a team, and at the same time finding enjoyment in their activity. This fall, both boys are enjoying wrestling.

I didn't grow up around the sport, neither did Monte. We are as green as the boys... We are, however, finding out that the sport has a die-hard following. People love it or hate it. There doesn't seem to be room for the wishy-washy type.

As a result, I'm finding myself mat-side most weekends...

We wanted to give the boys an opportunity to learn through sports, but this season, I think I'm learning as much as they are.

I'm learning that Benett is tougher than I thought he was.

I'm learning that Gavin's isn't as carefree as I thought he was.

I'm learning that it's not easy to see one child show up at a meet and run through his bracket, with a gigantic smile on his face... while the other gives his all only to walk off the mat defeated and in tears.

I'm learning that I'm more competitive than I perceived myself to be.

I'm learning that a mother's love is fierce in ways I didn't understand before.

At the end of the day, both of the boys are right where they should be. That's not easy for me to say... because I want to see Gavin happy; to give him everything he works so hard to try to achieve. But he's a new-comer to a sport that starts very (very) young. Most of his competitors have been wrestling for 6-7 years. This is his second season.

He gives it his all... doesn't give up... but just isn't able to make things happen the way he'd like. Yet he goes out there every weekend, because he wants to... because he's got confidence in himself. And in my mind, as long as he's able to take something away from the match, it's a success. Today he told me he was proud that he didn't give up but that he needs to do a better job of "visualizing his matches". I think that alone should earn him a spot on the top of the podium. (Although he wouldn't agree.)

And this one... well, he may very well be on cloud nine, at this late hour. He was a blast to watch... and to see his excitement, well that's something I can't put into words. That look on his face at the end of the round, will live in my heart and be the image I see in my mind's eye when I think of happiness. He ran off the mat and squeezed me so tight around the neck that I thought I might pass out. He vigorously gave me a kiss on the cheek and then ran up to the stands to share his excitement with his dad and siblings. Pure joy.

Today was two sides of a single coin. Two lessons learned and one mother who is glad to have been there to hold their hands no matter what the outcome.

Unresolved

We're already 6 days into January and still no resolution. Last year, I knew what I wanted to accomplish. It seemed so easy, but this year things feel different. So, in an attempt to learn where I want to take myself, I decided to look back and where we've been.

In 2014, Benett went to school, and Ellie learned to be independent. We spent time pursuing the enjoyment of the outdoors. Monte and I even got away, which in and of itself is a minor miracle. Three doting cousins have the sweetest baby boy to which to show their endless affection.

In 2014, I logged more than 800 miles. That includes four half marathons, which was my resolution and goal for the year. A challenge for my 40th year on Earth. That feels like a very big journey. I'm not sure I can even recognize the person I was before my trajectory changed. It's been a gift for myself, and the little people. I hope it's an example for them...

The little people aren't so little anymore. They surprise me each and every day in their display of just how much they've grown. It's funny to look back at photos of them from just a year ago, their chubbier cheeks and rounder faces make me realize that good or bad, this day will not last. They'll never be as small as they are today. Tomorrow they'll be a little more grown up.

Tomorrow they'll be a little bit more reluctant. That reluctance seems to grow as their chubby cheeks fade. They're not quite so willing to wait for a photo op... especially if one is an 11-year-old. I just don't have as many pictures of Gavin anymore... each of them really...

Perhaps that should be a part of my goal for 2015... For all of us to work on being less reluctant to try new things, to live in the moment or to forget how much we mean to one another... and to express those feelings.

That sounds worthy of a resolution, but I think I'll remain unresolved for a bit. This year seems like it can hold much more than that.

Besties

I was asked today what I thought about the events that have been unfolding in Ferguson, over the course of the past few months. I'm finding it really difficult to have an opinion on the topic... not just because I wasn't there, but because no matter the circumstances that have lead us to where we are today, it's a tragedy.

It's tragic because I can't consider a world where a police officer is afraid, or feels so entitled that it's within his right, to provoke another man because of who he is.

It's tragic because I can't consider a world where a young man feels that there is no better way... no other options than to provoke a man because of who he is.

It's a tragedy, because I can't consider the situation without thinking of these two boys.

These boys love each other like brothers. Not because they aren't supposed to... not because they have to... but because they want to. Differences, similarities and everything in between. I don't want to consider these two amazing boys having to live in a world that expects or tolerates anything different.

Instinct

I believe that a few quiet moments, lying in the grass, watching the clouds is one of the best things a person can do for herself.

The trick is to forget all of the other things that one could or should be doing and to tune out any little people who may or may not be rough-housing in the close proximity. Just lie still, ants and bugs and creepy-crawlers be damned. Don't let those bugs convince you to opt for a chair... it's not the same. There is so much more perspective to be gained from a low, out-stretched posture.

Amongst other things, in my mini therapy session today, I learned that Hank is quite the little grasshopper wrangler. His stalking technique is second only to that of the gals.

Unlike the gals, Hank has no interest in eating these jumbo bugs, he'd much rather toss them around until they're sufficiently docile... at which time it's acceptable to roll on them.

I'm not sure why he rolls on them. They don't smell all that gross. They're hard exoskeleton is pretty rough. And they blend into the surroundings, making it tough to continue the process of rolling, without some intense post-roll searching.

After watching him for a while, I came to the conclusion, that for small dogs, rolling in a small catch... no matter what it is, is just instinct. Instinct is pretty powerful, for all of us.

As a mamma, instinct tells me which cries are induced by pain and which are simply a ruse. Instinct tells me that when three little people are playing quietly together in the next room, I need to investigate - post-haste. Instinct helps me decipher the different meaning of tears.

Instinct, combined with common sense and a heart filled with love, makes the days of being mamma a little easier... especially when one of those days has involved a lengthy lounging in the shade of a tree, under a big blue sky... with or without a grasshopper chasing dog close at hand.

Language

For the first time ever, Ellie left the house this morning, alone with her Daddy. She wasn't a part of a pair, she was just Ellie Bug, all by herself. She was excited to be the only one going to daycare. She was excited for a measure of autonomy.

She got herself dressed. She made sure to put her shoes on the correct feet. She selected her favorite baby to bring along. She smiled her biggest Ellie smile. She told me a silly story and gave me a hug and a kiss. She was happy for her new little solo adventure.

I wonder if she realized how much her relationship with Benett would change today...

Today was Benett's first day of Kindergarten. It's something he's been looking forward to for a very long time... he has been giving it a lot of thought... it's been worrying him a bit too.

Actually, growing up has been something that Benett worries about from time to time. I get that; I can relate. Those unknowns are scary.

One thing Benett has always known is that he has a huge fan in his sister. He's pretty fond of her too...

Up until today, Benett always had more in common with Ellie. They have this funny and special and electric connection... almost needing to be in proximity with one another.

To some degree that changed a little today. I knew it was coming... but for some reason, it still caught me off guard. I readied myself to see that little boy wearing a big backpack, walking down the long driveway, stepping on that big bus. Happy through it all... giddy with excitement.

What I wasn't prepared for was how that would change his relationship with is brother and his sister.

Being in the middle isn't easy. I am not a middle child; Monte isn't either. But I can see how it could be tough being in between the trailblazer and the baby. Not old enough to do the same things as his big brother does, and not as needy as the littlest.

Today, a bit of the 5 year age difference between Benett and Gavin was bridged. They seem to have this new secret, between just the two of them... an unspoken trust. A language that only school-age boys know how to speak.


A language that is foreign to a little sister.

She missed him today. Her friend at daycare told me as much when I came to pick Ellie up tonight. She was happy to be doing her thing, but she missed him all the same. I'm not sure it was that she didn't have her built-in playmate, that automatic, sure thing... It's that she was missing the person who got her. That person who knew what she was talking about, when nobody else seemed to understand. That person who spoke her language.

When she got in the car and Benett was there, sitting next to her, she seemed to feel relieved. Or so it seemed in my mind.

Tomorrow will be a new day. Ellie and Benett will go off, yet again, on their separate adventures, finding their own way, and with any luck they'll come back together to pick up right where they left off today.

Spinning

At some point it became difficult to write about the little people and what's been going on in our lives. Not because there was anything wrong... but because it seemed as though there was nothing new.

At some point, things just seemed to be so much the same. There were none of the major milestones that happen in such rapid succession, with infants. Instead, we were just busy. Busy caring for the little people... keeping all of the plates spinning.

But all that time, there were changes. Subtle changes. Not measurable on a daily basis, but changes nonetheless. They're all bigger, that's inevitable. But there are other changes too. Things that didn't happen all at once, but were so much more gradual. The way Ellie has become so drawn to music. Her taste trends to pop, but anything will do as long as she can understand the words and dance to it.

This summer Gavin worked hard and dedicated a great deal of effort to baseball. It was fun to see him get emotionally attached to his team and the activity. He grew so much and that was as much fun to watch as his games. He's such a wonderful boy. I love him so very much. And for every bit that I love him, he frustrates me. He's just at that age... he's trying to understand the world around him and trying to come to his own conclusions. Defaulting to Mom and Dad's "way" isn't really top of mind with him right now.

That too was bound to happen and like Ellie's dancing, it didn't happen all at once, even though it feels like it sometimes. I try not to get frustrated or upset, but that's not always easy.

And Benett. My little mirror. He will be a kindergartener tomorrow. He's so ready for school. When I look into his eyes I can see that he wants to learn. His curiosity and wonder will take him to some wonderful places. I can only imagine how he will feel.

He doesn't seem frightened about this new adventure and I wasn't either. Until after his orientation, when I rushed him back to daycare and rushed myself back to work. When I finally sat at my desk it hit me.

All at once.

It wasn't incremental, it was like a ton of bricks. This boy who has always been at my knees will not always be hugging my leg. He's going to grow, little by little, no matter whether the plates are spinning or not. My job is to document as much of that as I can... even if it seems like there is nothing new.

Always

Generally speaking, I like to be behind the camera. It's safer on that side. I like the idea of trying to preserve the life that is happening all around me, saving it for another time and place, hopefully to recall it all again... the mundane and the monumental, side by side, all weighted equally.

There is one exception to my place behind the camera, and that is on Mother's Day, when I ask Monte to help in my quest for preservation. My only requirement on Mother's Day is to have a picture taken with my little people. The people who transformed me from just your run-of-the-mill, only-as-responsible-as-I-have-to-be sort of adult-ish person into someone who's heart no longer resides safely within the confines of my chest... someone who needs to considers other's needs first and most...

Even though this picture was only taken a week ago, I already love looking back at it. It already seems so long ago. I love the little story it tells; the memory it evokes and the way it fits into the bigger narrative of our life as a family.

The shy way in which Ellie now approaches being photographed, how Benett is front and center with is tattoos emblazoned on his forearms and how Gavin seems to happily approach most things that are asked of him.

These people represent the best of me. Although I know I'll never be able to articulate to them how they are my world and that I love them always and forever (even when we aren't smiling and happy)... I hope they'll know it in their hearts... On Mother's Day and every other day, always and forever.

Grasshopper

This is Hank. He's new at our place.

He's very sweet. We love him to pieces. Little Hank is a Cheweenie (Chihuahua + Daschund).

Monte and I started discussing a house dog quite innocently. We were both raised with pets and want our little people to have the same experience. As a couple, Monte and I have had a few pets as well... mostly dogs; big dogs. But when thinking about a pet in our home,  a big dog seemed like something we just couldn't handle. The thought of another body in the more congested parts of our house was something I just didn't want to deal with.

We though small would be much more manageable. And a little less intimidating for Ellie, who is still very cautious around animals.

So we started looking for little-ish dogs and spotted Hank's picture on a pet-rescue site. With parents in the 9-12 pound range, we though he looked like a great size; someone we should meet.

Long story short, Hank lives with us now.

As with most puppies, Hank loves to chew on shoes (or favorite slippers). He doesn't have manners yet (although he's working on that). He doesn't like the cold (which doesn't help with the manners, specifically as it relates to doing his business OUTSIDE). And he loves to eat crumbs (and anything else) off the floor.

Even with all of those things, he's just what we needed (although I could do without the messes in the house). Some days get the best of me. Some days I'm able to give the best of me. Hank, like so many other things in my life are an exercise in patience. In my head, I hear Mr. Miyagi... "Patience Grasshopper."

Some days, I'm able to listen to that internal voice and dig a little deeper, finding a new reserve of patience. Other days.... well, let's just say, there are days when the well seems to have dried up. Those days make me sad, but we all have them. It's best to just go to sleep that evening and vow to do better the next morning. That system re-booting always works wonders.

It means everyone at my house is learning... learning to adjust... learning to be patient... learning to just stop and enjoy life, as it happens before us... mess and all.