What I Should Have Said...

I am an emotional person, who does NOT like to be emotional.  This is particularly the case when something, whether happy or sad, is going to make me cry.  So, I typically avoid it at all costs by either ignoring it, running away from it or covering it in sarcasm.  Apparently, this also applied to my sister's wedding.  I subconsciously covered every emotional moment in sarcasm or just flat pretended it wasn't happening.  In the end, I realized that I cheated her out of hearing what I really wanted to say when it came time for my toast.  So, for her and Marshall, and everyone else, here is what I should have said (and yes, I'm going to cry as I type)...

Kelly was blessed, or cursed, with having two mothers.  There is her mom, who actually gave birth to her and then there's me, the older sister, who has always felt an almost maternal need to protect her, watch over her and push her to be her best.  As her other mother, I'm not sure I ever really believed we'd see this day; not because Kelly has a fear of commitment (though there was a point we weren't sure), not because she didn't want it more than anything, but more because I didn't think anyone would ever be good enough and because I am selfish and didn't want to lose my time with her.
Over the years the guys have come and gone, some more serious than others, but, inevitably, they'd always be gone.  And, if I'm being honest, that's how I liked it.  But then, there was Marshall.  The first guy Kelly didn't try to push away, and the first guy who wouldn't run if she did.  There was all measure of critiquing from me, some of which Marshall heard first-hand and he still didn't run.  Then there's actually meeting the family and realizing that this family can often be a little more than you bargain for, and he still didn't run.  Of course there's Kelly's crazy side too.  Yes, even that, Marshall saw and was still hanging around.  I'm not sure when it dawned on me, but I remember it hitting me like a ton of bricks...this man loves her.  This man loves her like my dad loves my mom.  This man loves her like Robert loves me.  Most importantly, this man loves her the way SHE needs to be loved...what more could I ask for for her.  In return, she loves him...she loves him like my mom loves my dad, like I love Robert and I hope and pray that it's the way Marshall needs to be loved.
My marriage is one of God's greatest gifts to me and I hope, today and years from now, that Kelly and Marshall can say the same thing.
So, here's to the bride, my sister, my confidante and friend.  Here's to the new couple and a lifetime of faith, love, devotion, selfless giving and happiness. Here's to a new family, one I am excited and blessed to be a part of.  Here's to the new Mr and Mrs Connor.

Slumber Party!

I never feel like it happens often, but every now and then I have a great idea that leads to a "good mom" moment.  Whenever Robert is gone I try desperately to make the time pass quickly (and keep everyone distracted) by keeping us very busy doing things that aren't necessarily normal.  I'm learning that these things are as beneficial for me as they are for the kiddos.  So, in the week he's been out of town we've had two dinner dates, an evening with a babysitter (yes, I left the house), a play date and...a slumber party. 
I couldn't have imagined the excitement of a slumber party that takes place in your own home, with your sibling and mom.  When I initially suggested it, I expected a disappointed reaction from Collin who would be hoping to have a friend over for the night or hoping to go to someone else's house.  Instead, they both started squealing and making plans for our slumber party.  It couldn't have been better.  All of a sudden our leftover dinner and bath time were the best, just because it was part of the slumber party.  Even going to bed was fun!  So, with ice cream in hand we headed to my room for dessert, games and some basketball.

 

 

It was a great night, and one I'm sure they'll ask to repeat often.  I'm just glad that, for now, the best sleep over ever is at home with family.



My Sister Ate My Homework

Yes, as only our family can do we have topped the old adage of my dog ate my homework, and swapped it out for "my sister ate my project."

I don't always share these stories, well, because they happen daily, usually infuriate me and blogging just doesn't ever seem to make it to the top of the priority list.  However, this one made me laugh outloud and rendered me completely unable to discipline my child.  Those two things made it worth noting.

For those of you who know us well you know that we have children with personalities as different as night and day.  For those of you who are also parents, you know this means throwing out everything (well, almost everything) that worked for the first and bringing in a whole new world order with the second.  So, there we are...a new world order...learning to be 2 completely different moms...and trying to stay ahead of 2 very intelligent little people.  Today, I apparently was not so successful.

Before Collin left the house this morning for school he removed a pretty neat object from his bookbag.  It was a 3-D figure he had created with marshmallows and toothpicks.  He was excited showing it off and said he wanted to keep it.  He set it on the steps and we left to take him to school.
Upon our return Legare found the very interesting object and noted that it was made of marshmallows.  She politely asked if she could have one.  Obviously, I said, "No, that is Collin's school project and you may not eat it.  You need to put it back and leave it alone."
Fast forward about an hour or so...I was working on the computer and Legare was playing quietly in the playroom (yes, I realize that should have been my first warning).  She came walking into the dining room and announced, "I ate one of Collin's marshmallows.  That wasn't being a very nice girl."  I asked her to bring me the rest of his project and one by one she brought each EMPTY toothpick.  She hadn't eat ONE of Colllin's marshmallows, she had eaten them ALL.  When she brought me the last toothpick with the ziploc baggy, she told me, "I need to tell Collin sorry."
By this point I was rolling on the floor laughing.  That little girl knew EXACTLY what she was doing the whole time and then even had the nerve to let me know that it was wrong and she needed to apologize.  Good grief!!  If only I could imagine what will happen next.

Why I'm Leaving Facebook

Ok, so I'm not completely "logging off," but I am going to begin to treat Facebook like I do all other forms of media, being a little more careful and selective with my intake.

For years I have been very picky about the music I choose to listen to.  It started when I was in high school and had an hour drive to school each day.  I just hated listening to crass morning shows and obnoxious, loud, foul music.  It just didn't put me in a good mood.  I decided I only wanted to listen to things that were uplifting, and I've refined my definition of uplifting as I've gotten older.

After that I began to think the same way about much of my media intake.  I'll only watch so much news before I change the channel, there are only certain types of television shows I'll watch and if one of my regulars gets to be too much, I just don't watch that episode.  I'm selective with movies and even selective with reading, particularly online articles.  I NEVER read the comments after an article, bottom line, I've formed my opinion from reading and don't care to become angered as I read, what I find to be, the ridiculousness that people are willing to spew on public internet forums.

So, what does this have to do with Facebook?  I have realized in the past few days that, while Facebook is a great tool for me to keep up with friends who I otherwise may not stay as close to, it is also a great detriment.  Too often articles are posted, comments are made and statuses published that will have a negative impact on me.  Some anger, some hurt, some make me question decisions I make, some (whether true or not) I feel are targeting me and then I spend entirely too much time and energy analyzing it trying to decide how to respond.  I mean really, it's just ridiculous.  Yes, I understand I can unfriend people, block people, unfollow people, the bottom line is that I just don't want the site to be such a big part of my life.

I check facebook on my phone like I check the time on my watch.  It's craziness.  Why?  For what?  What on earth could be so interesting?  Why do I read those stupid articles that I know are only going to infuriate me?  Why do I read the comments that only make it worse?

I've given up Facebook the past 2 years for Lent, thinking it would somehow curb my usage.  It does, for 40 days and that's about it.  I need to unplug.  I need to stop caring how other people think children SHOULD be raised and focus on raising the two I have the way Robert and I think they should be raised, doing what is right for us and our family.  I need to stop caring what other people think about all things political, and remember WHO I am and allow that to define me and guide my opinions.  I need to stop thinking I "know" someone because we are Facebook friends.  I need to pick up the phone and have a conversation with them, or at the very least, send a personal email to touch base.

So, with that I'm guarding myself against Facebook like I have all other forms of media.  I'm even going to delete the app on my phone :)  It's time to UNPLUG a little!

Sunshine!

As I sit here, with more than plenty of housework to do, I realize just how long it's been since I've written a blog post.  It definitely is always on the bottom of the "to do" list inspite of the fact that there are always posts swirling wildly in my head; posts about my mom, my children, my thoughts on politics and theology, perspective on life, reflections on the holidays, Collin's 6 years with us, and other ramblings.  But for today, in an effort to get back at it, I am just going to talk about sunshine.

I love seasons.  I have always loved seasons.  Yet, I've learned something during my first winter in Maryland (Robert keeps reminding me that this is an unusual winter here and everywhere), I love MILD seasons.  I enjoy the change from winter to spring to summer to fall.  I embrace all that is to be enjoyed with each season, but I like winter temperatures that hit below freezing ONLY for a few days out of the ENTIRE season, not days on end for , what seems like, weeks on end.  I enjoy snow, for a day, maybe two.  I do not enjoy snow for days on end.  I've learned that there are two main reasons for this: 1 - when it is bitter cold, it's too cold to be outside...meaning too cold to so much as walk out of the house to the car, from the car to the store.  It's too cold to do anything.  2 - there is very little sunshine and I have historically greatly underestimated the power of sunshine.  There must really be something to that whole Vitamin D thing.  

So, when I woke up yesterday morning and saw the sun shining brightly, with not a single cloud to obstruct its rays all I could think of was soaking it in.  Inspite of the below freezing temperatures our family bundled up to soak up some rays.

It was cook out time at the park with Mr. John.  We grilled hotdogs.

Roasted marshmallows for s'mores.

Played some croquet (Collin came in second).

And enjoyed the playground.

It was freezing, literally, but we had a wonderful time being outside, in the sun, spending time with each other and a good friend (Elan we missed you).  It was just what we needed to be able to smile when we saw the snow on the ground this morning.

So, here's to sun (and all of the wonderful analogies you can make with this) and what promises to be a gorgeous spring here in Southern Maryland.

Ninja Mom

This is my new favorite term.  I first heard it in a blog I posted on facebook, so I can't take credit (http://themattwalshblog.com/2013/09/15/dear-parents-you-need-to-control-your-kids-sincerely-non-parents/).
Matt Walsh uses it to refer to a mom who, inspite of her toddler's complete meltdown in the middle of the grocery store, who, inspite of glaring eyes and disapproving comments from those around, who, inspite of her embarassment, chose to instruct and discipline her child when it would have been easiest to give in to the demands.  With that explanation I have to let you know that I have some friends who are ninja moms.  While I hope the following post does not embarass one of them, I feel like I should share.  She showed the rest of us a great example of the difficulty, self sacrifice and necessity of being a good parent.

I had some friends (and their children) over for a playdate.  It was, obviously, chaotic, but it was fun.  The children had a wonderful time playing together and the moms got some much needed adult conversation.  As is with most playdates there is no ending time because nap time will beckon for each child and her mom will take her home.  Sometimes this happens in a subtle whine and rubbing of the eyes, and sometimes it happens in a hysterical meltdown.  The latter was the case with my friend's 3 year old.
I'm uncertain how it started, what triggered her devastation, but when the floodgates opened there was no closing them, not even a little.  She was crying and screaming at the top of her lungs.  It was so loud my friend had her daughter sit outside until she could gather their things.  Even outside we (and the rest of the neighborhood) could hear her quite clearly.  My friend remained remarkably calm.  She gathered their things (and her other child), apologized (none needed in the present company), and calmly took her daughter's hand and insisted they were leaving because her behavior was unacceptable.
About 10 minutes later, there was a knock on my door, my friend and her daughter had returned.  While the child was still visibly upset she had calmed.  My friend asked everyone to please pay attention because her daughter had something to say.  At this point the little girl (with some coaxing) apologized to everyone for her behavior.  WOW!!  NINJA MOM!!  Not only did she remain calm through this whole process, but she put forth the effort, the inconvenient, slightly embarassing (again, no need in the present company) effort to not only calm her daughter and speak to her at home, but to teach her that apologizing is important and necessary.  She came back, with 2 children, to bring the lesson full circle, to drive home her point.  Even though every mom in the room could have, would have, excused the daughter from the apology, given her the "out" because she was tired, because she is 3, we all knew the importance of what was happening.  We all knew this was important.  So, we all paid attention, waited for the apology and then hugged my friend's daughter.  Instead of telling her "it's ok" we thanked her for her apology and told her we'd love to have a playdate with her again soon.  And we were telling the truth!
I have been thinking about this a few days now, wondering if I'd be able to stay that calm.  Wondering if I would put forth the extra effort to return.  Wondering if I could be a Ninja Mom.  Then, this morning I read an article about parents in a town whose children broke into a vacant home, threw a party during which the home was destroyed and are now angry with the homeowner, the victim, for trying to help the children instead of calling the police.  THAT is what happens when we refuse to be Ninja parents.  THAT is what happens when we are so busy being friends, or so busy trying to make sure our children never know the disappointment of a consequence.  THAT is what happens when we excuse every misbehavior starting at 18 months.  THAT is what happens when we refuse to be parents.  Then we wonder why our children are so out of control in their teen years.  As a parent you should NEVER be judged by what your children DO, but you should be by how you respond, and my friend did it right!!
I still won't say her name, but she knows who she is.  Way to go friend, I'm taking notes!

The Punctuation Mark

At my age I have watched the slow aging, and ultimate decline of a handful of people in my life.  People, who inspite of their present state, are forever trapped in my mind's eye as the young, capable, caregiving people they were when I was young.  This, I have learned, is the most difficult part of growing up.  Yes, there are more responsibilities, bills to pay, jobs to attend, worry beyond anything a child can imagine; but in the end the aging and illness of those who took care of us, the changing of roles, ultimately the death is so much more difficult to me than anything else.  The responsibilities we're prepared for, we know those are coming.  I'm not sure any of us realize the difficulty of watching those who raised us, those who loved us, those who took care of us, now needing the care.  It's such a painful turn sometimes.
Most recently I have watched this happen to my grandmother.  As I see this steel magnolia, always so stubborn, defiant and resilient in the face of trial, suffering and pain; a woman of faith that surpasses understanding; a woman of independence far ahead of her time; a woman of grace and class and modesty, in a nursing home with little ability to carry on a conversation, take care of herself or even enjoy her final years I am heartbroken. What I failed to appreciate about her as a child, I so respect and love about her as an adult. To watch a life full of exclamation points coming to an end with a mere period absolutely infuriates me.
How does this happen?  Why does this happen?  Why is it that we can spend a lifetime living, loving, enjoying, building, taking whatever comes our way and thriving inspite or because of it, yet, end life in the care of strangers with no modesty, no home and no ability to care for ourselves?  How do we spend a lifetime chasing the exclamation points to end with a simple period?  Where is the humanity in this?  More importantly, what is the lesson in this?  Is the lesson for the children or grandchildren?  Is it to live every moment because you never know how it's going to end?  Is the purpose to do everything we can to keep our own parents from such a fate?  Is it to remind us of the humanity of the elderly?  Is it to remind us that even though they are weakened, they are frail and seem ignorant, they were once the greatest generation, they were once the young people out to conquer the world.  They were once the caregivers, the parents, the intelligent, the fit and the strong.   And maybe, just maybe in their showing us grace and acceptance in aging and all that comes with it, they can end their lives as they lived them, full exclamation points.
For our steel magnolia...we will always and only remember the exclamation points.