I’ve been thinking about summer a lot. I’ve been plotting and planning ways to keep my kids busy, or if I’m really honest with myself, from killing each other! I’ve combed the internet and our community for classes, camps, ideas, and suggestions. I’ve tried to carefully balance the activities for each month and find things that don’t drain our checking account. Part of me dreads summer and its lack of structure. The thought of summer has even caused some anxiety for me. Since this will be my first summer with two new children, I’m not sure what to expect.
But today I had an alarming thought. I was listening to the radio and heard Kris Allen’s new song entitled Live Like We’re Dying. The chorus struck a nerve with me.
Yeah, we gotta startLooking at the hands of the time we've been givenIf this is all we got and we gotta start thinkingIf every second counts on a clock that's tickingGotta live like we're dying
We only got 86,400 seconds in a day toTurn it all around or to throw it all awayWe gotta tell them that we love themWhile we got the chance to sayGotta live like we're dying
Now I was kind of excited, and not just because I voted for him last year on American Idol! I was excited because I realized I was going about summer all wrong. My anticipation has been on all the negative possibilities for the summer. I wasn’t looking at the days at home with my kids as an opportunity. In those 86,400 seconds each day, the opportunities are endless. I have the chance to bond, heal, love, play, nurture, teach, and laugh. As a mom, I say often that the time goes by SO fast! If I am really taking that to heart, I need to soak up the summer and the extra moments with my children and saturate myself in my kids. Not to the point of wanting to strangle them, but enough to create lasting memories and moments that will make me smile!

Wind-up Toys

Today as I was driving my son to school, I started thinking about how children are like wind-up toys. As the parents, we spend their whole childhood making sure their feet are positioned correctly underneath them. We diligently try to remove all obstacles that may make them stumble or fall. We tweak the knob in the back ever-so-slightly each day to build them up and get them ready for the long journey that lies ahead. We pray that they are wound tightly with the roots from which they've grown. And then finally, the day arrives to let them go. We set them out on their own, ready to walk. It is our hope that as they walk away, those roots don't unravel too much.

The Evaporation of Brain Cells

In my youth I could remember everything. I remembered conversations I had with people verbatim. I could remember what I wore on certain monumental occasions or how something smelled or felt during numerous random moments of my childhood. This is only interesting to me now at the ripe, old age of thirty-four because I suddenly feel like I can't remember anything. It is with great sadness that I admit the loss of my steel-trap memory. I've thought long and hard about this loss too. I've examined the problem from many different angles and listed all possible causes.
The most obvious cause is motherhood. When you have conversations with children all day and your biggest problems to solve involve determining who didn't flush the toilet, I think brain cells flee the monotony as quickly as they can. In short, becoming a mom has caused some of my memory to turn to mush.
A second possible cause for this lapse in memory is related to motherhood as well. As our family has grown, so has the number of people I am responsible for. And the number of shoes. And the number of backpacks. And the number of clean pairs of underwear. And the number of schedules. And the number of.... What was I saying? In my prior life, I was only responsible for myself. Life was simplistic. Then I added a spouse. It took time, but I adjusted to telling him where his things were because he has obviously been incapable of remembering things his whole life. As life became more complicated and the number of charges began multiplying, my memory began to fail me more and more. My old tricks were no longer working. I had never been one to really use a calendar or make to-do lists. I had always been able to file that data in my mind and recall it easily later when needed. As is obvious by the multitude of conflicting scheduled events recently, I most certainly need a calendar and possibly a personal assistant!
And just to illustrate my point further, I've quite literally forgotten the point to this little ramble in just the time it has taken me to write it!

Zzzzz.....

There are few things more intimate than falling asleep with another person. The rise and fall of your chest slows as your breathing synchronizes with that of the other person. The breath of each circles and mingles until it is one in the same. Recently while holding my foster daughter as she fell asleep, I thought about how lovely it is for a child to experience such an intimate moment with a parent. When we sleep, we are in our most vulnerable state. We must trust someone entirely to give up consciousness in their arms. That moment must embody the epitome of the parent/child relationship, total and complete trust. I can't help but think how sad it is for the countless children in the world, including the two new ones I have been given to love, who haven't had this luxury from their very start. For them the ability to trust implicitly doesn't exist. And we wonder why there is so much wrong with our world.

It's My Turn

I've been a follower of blogs for years. I read them. I stalk them. About people I know. About people I don't know. It's a sickness really. I find the glimpse into another person's life fascinating. For months now, I've been thinking that I need to create my own. It's highly possible that not another human being on this planet will ever read it, but I feel inclined to write it anyway. So here goes...