I am THAT Mom

I'm gonna dust off the ol' blog so I can join in on the unschooling bloggie fun.... thanks for the prompt!

I am That Mom....



I am that mom who still gets hugs from her teenage boys; and knows when a hug isn't welcome and respects that without reading into it. (Like today, when dropping Jonathan off for his first day of football camp. All throughout the gymnasium moms were filling their sons' ears with last-minute instructions, trying to hug them, brushing their hair out of their eyes, while their sons brushed away their hands, rolled their eyes, and practically crawled out of their skin with each doting embrace. How can they find the inner strength to tackle a day of football camp among total strangers when mom's attention is all soft and schmoopy?)

I am that mom who doesn't flinch when her child tells her he wants to cut his hair into a mohawk, or learn to ride a motorcycle, or promote hemp oil as a cancer cure, or sleep behind the couch for three months straight. I am that mom who sees her kids' interests and desires, no matter how unusual or dangerous, as valid, worthy, and do-able.



I am that mom who says, "How can we make this happen?"



I am that mom who gets physically and emotionally ill when I witness (or even hear about) a parent shame, berate, or threaten her child. I am that mom who some days can't go out in public because I'm not strong enough to navigate such interactions. I am that mom who, on those days, feels overwhelmed with gratitude for my relationship with my children.

I am that mom whose child says, "some of my friends need an escape, which makes sense. But I love my life and I love the people in it, and I can't relate to the need for escape."

I am that mom whom other parents thought (and some, probably, still think) was the irresponsible one, the one who'd "pay for it later" when my kids ran wild, became disrespectful, or couldn't function in public due to my "hands-off style" of parenting. I am that mom who knew all along that wasn't true. I am that mom who watches those controlling, authoritative, drastic-measures, zero-tolerance, 'my way or the highway' parents struggle today. I am that mom from whom they now seek advice. Advice I begin with "It's never too late."



I am that mom who knows that because I listened before passing judgement, my kids talk to me. That because I don't over-react, my kids trust me. That because I have no hard and fast rules, my kids seek my advice and input.



I am that mom who believes in 'people over principles' and 'relationship first' and 'everything is negotiable.' EVERYTHING.



I am that mom who will end friendships if they are detrimental to our family's well-being. I am that mom who understands that her children choose their friendships for their own reasons. I am that mom who will tell you to back down if you are infringing on my child's sense of self. I am also that mom who will empathize with YOU when you struggle, when you hurt, and when you want to be better.

I am that mom who can go from setting a proper table to having a sock-throwing fight (ewwwww, nasty!); from scrubbing a floor on hands and knees to watching the "most amazing video game replay ever"; from talking to listening at the moment it's necessary.



I am that mom who believes nothing - NOTHING - is more important than this family. Who'd live in a cardboard box before she gave up a minute of these growing-up years.




I am THAT mom.

Any questions? :)

Love and Marriage

17 years ago I decided to marry this bloke: 17 year later....

I'm still glad I did.

Birthday Gift Part OhMyGoshWooHOO

OHMYGOSH OHMYGOSH OHMYGOSH.... Look what I got for my birthday!


I have this knack for guessing my birthday presents. It's not because I ask for anything in particular - I don't. In fact, when people ask what I want for my birthday, my brain flies out the back of my head and I can't think of a single thing. It's actually something I inherited - my grandfather always guesses his gifts. You could wrap a tie in a shoebox and he'd say, "Oh, you got me a tie!" before even touching the bow.

My darling husband has gotten verrrry good at paying attention to what I like these past few years and has gotten me some sa-weet gifts. I couldn't be happier. Let's just say we've come a long way from the Christmas I got him a cappucino machine and he got me an Adam Sandler movie.

It started two years ago when on Christmas morning he made me close my eyes and then wheeled in my new road bike. THAT was awesome. I adore that bike.

Last year he got me my kick-*ss digital camera. My camera rocks.

Today, when the box containing my birthday gift arrived, I just had a hunch... I hadn't had any hunches before that, but even though the box was somewhat large and unmarked, I scrunched my forehead in that knowing way and said, "I know what you got me."

That prompted Rob to begin lying; at which, thankfully, he's quite poor. He said, "I'm not really sure you're going to like it" in an attempt to throw me off, which then led to a series of guesses on my part. If he wasn't sure I'd like it, I mused, it must be something HE wants.

"A Pink Floyd CD?" I ventured... Pink Floyd makes me want to carve out the insides of my eyelids with a butter knife.

"The first five seasons of Spongebob Squarepants?" I tried again... I'd like to squeeze Spongebob Squarepants until his beady little eyes explode.

"How about 'The Best of Screamo'?" I laughed... I don't mind Screamo when my son's band is playing it, but that's all on account of a mother's love for her son, not a true appreciation for the style of music. (Sorry Brady.)

Long story short - I guessed right. But that doesn't mean I wasn't totally, completely surprised. I even danced a little jig in the kitchen, to which Brady said, surprised, "Wow - she's never done THAT before."

This sweet new lens allows me to zoom in further than ever. It means instead of zooming this close...

I can zoom THIS close.

Those pictures were taken from the same spot, using different lenses.

Instead of only zooming in this close....

I can zoom in THIS close....

I can also stand in the safety of the garage and shoot pictures of my lovely niece who was way out in the yard.

Or stand far out of the way of the kids shooting hoops and still capture this shot of my adorable nephew Armando who was giving me his pie-faced grin from afar.
Jonathan nabbed the following cool shot of a branch outside our front window. He was standing in the middle of our living room.

So far I am madly in love with this new telephoto lens. So far there's only one minor problem with being able to capture photos from far away... especially when unbeknownst to the subject....

EGADS!

I should've added under-eye cream to my birthday list.

Birthday Gift Part I

It's funny how our idea of what makes a great birthday present evolves over the years. As soon as we were old enough to begin wanting things, we sat with the JC Penney catalog or the double-phone-book-sized Sears catalog, pen in hand, and circled things - even things we hadn't wanted before gazing upon them in the colored pages of those books. Somehow everything looked more desirable with the prospect of actually getting them looming ahead.

As we grew older, birthdays meant fun times. Themed parties. Group trips to places like Chuck E Cheese or Great America or Shakey's. Slumber Parties. Slumber parties where somehow - and who knows how - it got leaked that there were a pile of pajama'd grrls gathered in a tent in a cornfield and boys showed up.

Later birthday celebrations meant pizza joints, dances in the round barn, movie nights where no movies were actually watched. (Sorry Mom.)

And later yet, bars and pubs. And house parties.

And if you're lucky enough to have a birthday on St. Patrick's Day, like me, there is no shortage of partiers and revelers to join you in your celebration. I have dozens and dozens of pictures taken over the years of me with who-knows-who, people who were more than willing to down a green beer, tip their cap, and jump into the fray of my birthday celebration. It all seemed like a good idea at the time.

These days, life is simpler. Quieter. And quite a bit more sober. And I'm happy as a pig in mud.

My first birthday gift of the day - well, besides Rob's sweet 'Happy Birthday' nuzzle first thing - was Brady picking up the house. And my second was Jonathan's invitation to do yoga.

As kids we don't necessarily get the whole "I don't need a present" thing. We roll our eyes when our parents say things like, "All I want is to spend time with you."

But then we grow up. And it's true. Just like all those other things our parents warned us about such as "you don't just marry the boy, you marry the family" (from Dad) and "sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do" (from Mom).

I couldn't think of a better way to spend my birthday morning than doing yoga with my two favorite kids in the whole wide world.

When I suggested taking a photo, Jonathan eagerly obliged and showed off his backbend.

Incidentally, when we did three backbends in a row using Rodney Yee's video, we could barely do them. We were laughing too hard as Brady moaned, "Oh my Gah! I'm dying! I can't do this! Oh my Gah!" over and over.
Here we were still laughing as I tried to get into a half-moon pose without tipping over in time for the camera to flash...

Success!

And now we're off for Birthday Gift Part II.

A few moments ago I had a sudden craving and yelled, "Let's go get french fries!"

Christmas Came to the Cornfields

Christmas came to the cornfields. And boy, did it ever make an entrance.

We not only had a white Christmas, we had a White-OUT on Christmas Eve. For the first time in recent memory we had difficulty getting to Madison for Christmas Eve festivities. We woke to 3 inches of new snow, which, when added to the previous eight-gazillion inches, made for treacherous roads.

Never one to shy away from a wee bit of hazzardous driving conditions - one doesn't grow up in cornfield country and end up soft - we loaded up and ventured out.

And promptly fish-tailed toward the ditch about 14.7 feet from the end of our driveway.

Along with Christmas came the usual merriment...

Shopping with my nieces and painting our hair blue...

Piles of cousins...

Piles of presents....

Music making....

And the requisite "What did YOU get from Santa?" conversation that begins immediately upon arrival at Grandma's. (Guess what little Armando got?)

There was also, of course, the drooling over the only-made-on-Christmas Sugarplum Coffee Cake, which is BEYOND tasty.... and not fattening at ALL. At least that's what I keep telling my thighs as I down another morsel.

And the serving of the traditional Christmas brunch. Elves go first.

This elf is about to graduate from elven school, now that he's received cologne, gas cards, and a set of car keys for Christmas. Wah!

Add in a little Rock Band....

And it was a very merry Christmas indeed.

From our family to yours, may your days be merry, your hearts filled with love, and your thighs flabby. (That's only so I'll feel better about mine, you understand.)

Nothing is Sacred

I'm sorry to admit that nothing is sacred in this family. It's not that we can't be solemn, reverent, humble, stoic or quiet when we absolutely have to be. We can. But our preferred mode seems to be silly, goofy, irreverent, sarcastic, and witty, with a whole lot of laughter and eye-rolling thrown in. Give us one of "those" looks and it'll only encourage us. (Sorry Mom.)

My uncle's wedding last weekend was no different. We were excited for the wedding, and we were sure not to stick our tongues out at each other during the important moments. Well, there was that moment when Rob poked me after the priest said "a wife should serve and obey her husband" business. But we managed to get through the actual service without anything more troublesome than my niece Ana exclaiming "that wine was HEAVY!" after she carried the gifts to the altar.

The silliness usually begins before we even leave the house. When we're all spiffed up to go out, I tend to get a bit overly eager for photos. It's not often that we're all in our finest duds - or that all of us have bathed on the same day. Something that monumental must be captured on film. But since my boys start cringing and moaning the minute I utter the suggestion, I have to make it more enticing.

Unfortunately, that's also what sets the tone for the rest of the day. If I act silly, it's like a "rev your engines green-light-go" to the kids.

I think this move was in response to Brady's command, "Move in a little."

This picture reminds me to keep using that anti-aging cream I just bought. Oh, and to use darker lipstick. (Ok, Aunt Nancy, you were right. Maybe that darker lipstick wouldn't actually make me look like a.. nevermind.)

Having made it through the wedding, the silliness resumed as we entered the reception hall. We call this part of the night, "There will be no serious photos taken."

Apparently, this expression runs in my family. Here, I present Exhibit A: my sister Jackie, and Exhibit B: my (single, successful, funny-as-h*ll) brother Matt.

Only my mom - who is (gulp) GETTING MARRIED - was elegant and composed during picture-taking.

(There - I said it! Are you happy? Please hold for a moment while I go lie down.)

(Ok, I'm back.)

Here is mom with her new fiance, Gordy. Hi Gordy! Welcome to the family! Hope you like silliness, chaos, and mayhem!

I don't know what I was saying at this particular moment, but by the look on Brady's face, it must have been fairly horrific.

Dear nieces, and nephews: "Do as I say, not as I do. Tell your mom I said that, too."

Brady looks like he's got some sort of smart-alec retort coming on, doesn't he? *sniff* I'm so proud.

Getting the whole gang together for a photo was... well, a struggle. It was a bit like herding cats.

The kids were more cooperative than the adults. As you can see, they were eager to form a grouping and pose for the camera.

And then that quickly devolved into more silliness. Careful, don't choke Armando!

You can tell by the looks on their faces it was taking too long to assemble the adults.

So Ana decided to model some possible poses. I finally sent the kids to fetch Aunt Jackie, who was taking her sweet old time getting over to the group. This, however, only managed to start one of our favorite family games, designed by my father, called "Well, YOU tell HER...." It goes something like this:

Kids: Aunt Jackie, my mom says to get your butt over there for pictures.

Aunt Jackie: Well, you tell her that I don't have to do it just because my big sister says so.

Kids (run to me): Aunt Jackie says she doesn't have to just because you're her big sister!

Me: Well, you tell her, yes she does, because I'm the boss of her.

Kids (run to Jackie): She says yes you do because she's the boss of you and big sisters are always the boss! (They like to add their own embellishments sometimes.)

Aunt Jackie: Well, you tell her she can stick it in her ear.

Kids (run to me): She says you can stick it in your ear!

Me: Well, you tell her that's not nice, and she's a big fat poopy head.

And so on. Ahhhh.... family traditions make me all wistful and warm inside....

Eventually, Jackie wandered over and we again tried to assemble for a group photo. (Side Note: half the reception has elapsed by now.)

We tried.... "C'mon people, get your butts over here! Move it! Mas rapido!"

And tried.... "Yo Marcel, what's with the cheeseball smile?!"

And tried.... "Armando, tough guy, arms down! Where are the other kids? Where is Aunt Susan? Wait, where am I ?!?"And then we gave up.

And something tells me the new bride and groom didn't notice a thing.

Congratulations Uncle John and Bobbie Jo! And sorry about the relay races the kids had across the dance floor.

Grrrl Time

After a somewhat unsettling week, I'm off to retreat with my women's group. It's funny how our retreats always seem to come at just the right time. Of course, it helps that we do it at least 3 times per year, so each one comes right as the magic from the last one starts to wear off. By the time the next one rolls around, I'm usually in dire need of a grrrl fix. Sometimes we have activities planned. Sometimes we don't. But one thing's for sure - our 'check-in' time always last for about a full day.

Invariably, one of us brings a load of stress to the gathering and is in need of some respite from life. One of us brings joy. One of us brings indecision. Another brings sadness. Whatever we come with, we know we are safe in our circle; to share, to cry, to process, or to spout. Sometimes we even get a rousing chant of "F*ck That Sh*t!" going when someone is feeling especially battered by life. (Dear Mom: I'm sorry. But it helps.)

(Dear Rob, it's a WOMEN'S group. Sorry honey, but shoo!)

I received a few bits of unsettling news this past weekend, so I'm more than ready to squirrel myself away and absorb some grrl power. None of the news, by itself, is earth-shattering. But I don't like feeling unsettled, and sometimes just knowing others are in pain - others who are close to me - is enough to send me into a tail-spin. Five bits of such news in a span of 5 days was a bit too rapid-fire for me.

Dear family and friends: Let's play a game called 'Good News Only,' OK? Thanks.

And so I'm off. I don't know what YOU are up to this weekend, but I hope that whatever it is, it feeds your soul. Or, at the very least, doesn't poke any holes into your thin skin.


I will be once again blessed to spend an entire weekend in the company of some of the finest women around.

~Namaste~