Summer time...

Summer has its boons and its banes. I love the freedom of my schedule on the days I'm not working--the kids get up and watch cartoons, I sleep a little longer. I love this! I love the flexible way I can take both kids to get a treat, visit a pet store, or make an art project without worrying about the next meeting we have to get to or school bus drop off times. I just love the open schedule!

And yet--I'm losing structure to my days and I find myself sleeping too long in the morning, staying up too late at night, neglecting housework, starting too many projects only to watch them wait to be finished as I start another new one. I think I need structure like a baby needs a good sleep schedule. sigh.

So I shall be printing my "To Do's" and my "NOT To Do's" on paper every day. Today's gonna be a good day!

phew!!!!!!!!

Thank you holiday shoppers, you nearly gave me a heart attack! As I raced down the highway today it occurred to me that I might not get home at the time I had planned.

Then it occurred to me that I was dreaming if I thought I would get home on time. I panicked. My heart began racing. I could feel the air being sucked out of my lungs like a Dementor's Kiss. Being late meant Ella would be standing at a locked front door when she got off the school bus today.

I was sure I was going to vomit on my lap. I pictured her tears, her loud wailing, her wandering the streets of Beaverton, knocking on doors until some creep lured her inside with candy laced with razor blades.

I pulled up to the house without a sign of Ella nearby. I was 13 minutes late! I unbuckled Miles and stepped into the house to be sure she wasn't inside (did I actually leave the house unlocked?). She wasn't indoors. The front door was locked.

Miles and I raced down the sidewalk to look down the street to where the bus drops her off (was it possible the bus was just as late as I was?). No sign of Ella. I yelled her name in a tone that means business. My volume is up loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear me. No response. (No one even popped their head out their front window blinds! Didn't they realize my world was crumbling apart???)

I race back into the house and grab my phone to call the school and report her missing. And here's where I won't crack a joke--I literally pictured Kyron Horman's face from all the haunting photos of him hanging in grocery stores and street lamps around town. (Would the school call 9-1-1 or would they make me do it?)

I'm sure I'm going to vomit.

My phone vibrates in my hand before I flip it open. I don't recognize the number. (I don't have time to answer this! My daughter's wandering the sex-traffic-crazed streets of Aloha!!!) I hear a woman's voice say simply, "It's Suzie next door. Ella's here. Come on over."

I nearly faint. I whisper "Thank you" and flip the phone shut, grab Miles in my arms and come to her door filled with apologies.

Suzie's first words to me? With a bemused expression she says "She is being SO funny. What a cute little girl!"

Sigh of relief. Blanket of calm lays upon me. Ella's kicked back in the recliner watching Garfield on the Cartoon Network on their plasma flatscreen TV. She's snacking on Rold Gold pretzels and Sunny Delight with a cozy fleece thrown over her lap. She doesn't even make eye contact with me. The cartoon is too important. The snacks are too delicious.

Perhaps I did something right the past couple of years when I've met neighbors (though I neglected to exchange phone numbers--something I remedied today), drilled our cell numbers into Ella's brain, and insisted she never get in a car with someone and only ask a trusted mama for help if she's lost (or in this case left uncared for).

Suzie said she said hi to Ella as she was getting the mail, noticed that our garage wasn't open for Ella to come in as usual and then Ella came knocking asking for help a minute later.

The wailing? The frantic daughter I feared? She didn't shed a tear or even have a change in heart rate.

Thank you, God.

Camera Kidnapping

Someone likes to nab the camera and indiscriminately photograph the world as she knows it.

Is it interesting to see what our children see?

I'm so grateful for the way my children teach me to take joy and wonder from the simplest of moments.

How can this sweet little, baby-faced boy turn into such a tyrannical, angry beast? We've turned a rather horrifying corner on our journey of parenthood this week. Apparently our roadmap was an older edition that didn't foresee the new construction which would be occurring at 3.75 years of age for Miles.

Bedtime turned into a war zone this past week. There were a couple of perfectly peaceable moments, then a few frightening engagements. I was close to waving the white flag... okay, I did... once. It was the first time I remember totally caving in and giving up with my kids. I literally told Miles he could have whatever he wanted if he just stayed in bed. Aaron was out of town, and I had come to the point of utter exasperation.

Me: Stay in bed.

Son (in sassy three year old cadence): I just don't want to.

Me: I know it's hard. Stay in bed.

Son: I hate that!

Me: Sorry. If you don't get to bed at night your immune system will be weakened and you'll get sick and die.

Son: I don't care. I'm just never going to sleep again. I love dying.

I'd already taken away everything. His precious blankies, his light saber he's accustomed to sleeping with, his drink of water, his pillow, his covers... I stopped short of stripping him naked. I had run out of any sort of valuable currency. I'd already spanked him as hard as I could, and was surprised to find that it wasn't that hard (at least in his opinion).

I literally told him I couldn't spank him anymore because I was too angry. And he kept screaming at me. I wanted to duct tape him into bed. I thought better.

My six year old daughter observed the entire encounter from the safety of her top bunk vista. It had been hours (okay, that's a lie, but it felt that way). I finally couldn't fight the tears building behind my lids. I pleaded with him. I begged. It was pathetic.

Then I saw it. A battery operated lantern within arm's reach. I grasped for it using the last stores of energy I had reserved for this final moment. I depressed the rubber button on the lantern, turning it on, and handed the peace offering to my son. His eyes moved sideways behind his slitted lids.

Finally, a truce. He calmed down, received a hug from me, and rolled over to sleep with the lantern. But what just happened? Did I win? Did I lose? Had I misinterpreted what he needed the entire time? Was he simply scared of the darkness in his room?

All I know is I cried at how hard I'd spanked him and came back in and gave him his pillow and cover after he was quiet for a few minutes. Does anyone else feel this badly after they'd done what they thought was best?

Your gentle offers of advise are appreciated.

With or Without You

I'm making a commitment to create blog posts with or without pictures. I was under the impression that my writing was only valuable if there were pictures to accompany it. (Perhaps this is because I read so many picture books and magazines.) I find that I'm only making excuses to avoid writing because I fear the imperfections of my reflections being shown to others. But isn't that mostly what being human is all about? Sharing our flaws so others feel less distanced from you? Showing our own life, as authentically as possible, so others can identify with your own story (and hopefully abandon the isolation that accompanies our secrets)?

So, to begin again, here is the latest from my life.

I have a job as a caregiver for the elderly in their homes. My first client was a joy to serve. I would have done it for free. She had insights into life and living that I hadn't anticipated learning from her. She only had a few wishes for her memorial service. She wanted the following printed on her memorial program: "It Was A Wonderful Life!" She said she had children who were loving, grandchildren who were healthy and joyful, and a husband who passed years before her who she described as "sincere." She said she had no complaints. She only wished she could die sooner! She was ready to go home.

I had the privilege of singing to her with her pastor two days before she died. We sang "Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus" and she raised her hands, eyes closed, a beautiful smile on her face as she lay in her living room hospice bed. And now I have the privilege of singing that with her pastor at her memorial service this week. As my husband says, a death is a Holy Moment. And hers certainly was. Her death was an achievement for her. She had no fear of it.

So thank you, dear client, for showing me the beauty of death and a life lived faithfully. You were so gracious to me, showing your appreciation and sharing your honest reflections on life with me. I'll never forget you!

Pumpkin Patch 2009

Well, obviously I'm a little late on this post, but I'm really not concerned with punctuality. Ever.

We went to a pumpkin patch in Hillsboro and had a lot of fun last month. But boy were we shocked at how many rotten pumpkins they had! We are fairly certain we found the last four pumpkins that weren't half rotten. We felt bad for all the other people hunting through the huge patch that obviously missed these last few good ones.

We got to see a miniature horse and some cute little pigs and goats, ride a boat across a lake, and a spooky train ride was involved too. It gets easier and easier to do these family traditions now that we don't have toddling children. The bigger they get, the more things are easily accomplished.

We always take a picture of the kids heaving to lift up a pumpkin too large for them to manage because of an endeared picture of Aaron as a toddler doing the same thing. If I had a scanner, I'd post it here. Christmas present? ;)

Jog-a-Thon

Warming up the legs.

The running begins!

(Watch her pull ahead of everyone!)

She was SPRINTING.

Checking her heart rate.

Hydrating.

Sprinting the final few seconds!

Exhausted!

She did 22 laps! Keep in mind these weren't around a track. Still though, pretty good for a five year old to run at top speed for 15 minutes! I estimate she did over a mile. Way to go Ella! She earned enough pledges to get a playground ball and other prizes. She is hoping to be the top pledge earner in her class and attend a root beer float party. We'll find out next week if she reached her goal. Thanks everyone!

If there are any others who want to send us a pledge to raise money for her school, let me know.