Sugar and Spice

Six years ago today, almost to the minute now, I became a mommy. Just typing those words makes the Earth stop spinning and my eyes well with tears. Six years ago. Pumpkin is not a baby anymore. She doesn't need me for every little thing. She doesn't need me for any little thing, really, although sometimes she still acts like she can't brush her own hair or tie her shoes. But the truth is: she doesn't need me for any little thing. She needs me now only for big, scary things. I look back through these blogs and remember freaking out trying to find the right sippy cup, make sure she walked and talked on time, and that her ear infections stopped. All noble mommy causes in their own right.  All nerve-wracking and consuming in their own time. How I wish any one of them were my biggest concern now. These days I lose sleep over much heavier mama burdens like which friends she will choose, what choices she will make when I'm not looking, how comfortable she ...

I love Lent. I know Lent is not supposed to be a season of joy but the solemnity of penitence and ashes on Ash Wednesday, the anxiety of the knowledge of his death, the wonder of what those in the moment must have felt, and the anticipation of the joy of his resurrection brings my heart such fullness. I always look forward to the opportunity to slow down and just be. I am entering this Lent with a new hope that I have not felt before and I am excited and anxious to see how He will work through me. Now, having espoused all of that great philosophy, let me get real for a minute. Flash back to that Ash Wednesday service barely 12-hours ago. I'm on my knees trying to get in my holy groove, confessing sins, yadda yadda yadda when no sooner had I invoked the "Most merciful Father" when I hear a slight chuckle behind me. I turn to my side and see Bug trying to take off her shirt in the middle of church. Luckily her belly was a road block and I was able to get her mostly cove...

A new year is always a good time for waxing nostalgic and this January 1st was no different.  Christmas came and went in a whirlwind. It was the first Christmas where both girls could anticipate the magic and in their anticipation, expectation, and eventual joy I found so much happiness. There was nothing earth-shattering about their gifts, nothing monumental about our festivities, but in their peaceful simplicity I was gifted this unbelievable, absolute and utter joy. I like to think it was something like the exhausted and overwhelming love Mary must have felt on that dirt stable floor looking at the perfection of her Christ child. I felt his perfect love in this Christmas like none other before. With the new year, I'm trying to hold on to that still, calm, joy. My heart is literally overflowing with the love I have for my sweet family. I have not made any formal 'resolutions' but I am sure trying my hardest to be present. That's it. Just present. In the momen...

I communicate for a living. All day, every day, I communicate. I don’t just communicate, I persuade, convince, and argue. I’ve taken classes, read books, and paid consultants to make me better at communicating. I know that the message isn’t just the message, but the way it’s conveyed. I know what you say isn’t half as important as how you look saying it. I am by all accounts a professional communicator. Yet, sometimes, like this morning, when I realize that my most important message to my important audience is falling flat, it is all for naught. This morning on the way to school after having a “which do we like better” music sampling amongst Beethoven, Mozart, and Bach (thank you Mrs. Burke’s kindergarten class composers of the month – she literally knows the difference), Pumpkin asked me matter-of-factly when I was going to quit work and be a babysitter mom. I explained to her that I enjoy my job and I work to make her proud and so we can do all the things she likes to do....

Those of you who don't know me too well may be surprised to learn that I can be a real meanie. I could explain away why that is - probably something to do with being a short, young female in a competitive and aggressive profession dominated by loud, old men. In any event, I have to admit that sometimes I can a bit of a bully. At work, it usually ends well. The problem is when it comes home with me. Add to that the fact that I am a bad disciplinarian. I don't like to discipline my kids. For one, it puts a damper on what we have going on (i.e., if she can't go to the party, I can't go to the party). I understand that is immature and selfish and don't you dare think for a minute that I didn't REALLY reconsider even typing those words. But this blog is all about being honest and that is the truth. Fortunately for me I have some really, really, really wonderful kids. But, they are kids. They fight and argue and sass and sometimes they need to be discipli...

I posted an article on Facebook yesterday about the first Kindergarten drop-off. “How did we get here?” the author asked. It’s the same question I’m asking myself, so the thought is not unique. I'm certain I was not the only mom walking out of the building today with her tongue pressed hard against the top of her mouth trying to stop tears, barely able to eek out a have a great day as I left my part-baby part-big girl to start her education. So, while the question is hardly unique, this blog post is my answer. It’s my “baby book” letter to Pumpkin about her first day of Kindergarten. How did we get here? How did I get to this beautiful little pink-clad angel, nervously clutching my hand, proudly strapped into her monogrammed owl backpack holding her already completed first homework assignment that she cannot wait to turn in? How, in 5 short years, did I get to this creature who is simultaneously and always my needy baby and already my moody, temperamental all-girl child? The...

I forgot how much I loved Wilson Phillips until I blasted it this morning on the way to Vacation Bible School. I tried to explain to Pumpkin what an amazing song this was and get her to fist pump to "some day, somebody's gonna make you want to turn around and say goodbye (say goodbye)...." She looked at me like I was crazy and asked me to turn it to Kidz Bop's version of Iggy Azalea. I tried. When I turned on and tuned out the K-I-D-Z, I started thinking about holding on. Parenting, I've discovered, is about a fine line of holding on and letting go. Like a see-saw. Holding on to their baby-ness while letting go as they test their wings. For other analyses, see all other deep (or mid-thigh high) posts I have attempted in the past. The "holding on" I was thinking about today had more to do with my sanity. In other words, in this context letting go would be a problem. These days I feel like I'm having to hold on extra tight not to lose it comp...