Sugar and Spice

Pumpkin asked me the other day, as I reminded her of the time for the fifth time that morning, why “grownups always lie about the time.” I stopped dead in my nagging tracks. “What do you mean?” “Well,” she started slowly explaining, “you said it was already 7:15 and it’s only 7:11. And you always do that. It’s like when you told me I had to start doing things for myself because I was 7 before I even turned 7.” Talk about an early morning gut-check. Why do grownups do that? Why do I do that? She, of course, in her complete innocence, didn’t realize the profound questions she was making me ask myself. Billy Joel’s “Vienna” starts playing in my head – a song that I often here in my states of over-stressed melancholy - reminding me to "slow down, you crazy child." Here I am still reeling from the fact that she did actually turn 7 just two weeks ago and I spend so much time and energy hurrying her – hurrying them both – worried about the next appointment, the next eve...

Something about Advent – decking the halls in preparation for Santa, slowing our spirits down in preparation for the Christ-child – brings me back to this Blog again. It’s been a very long time since I’ve written. There is no way in this post or a dozen more that I could capture everything I’ve missed, but yesterday while decorating the tree I realized what a hole I’ve left in our memories by letting this blog go. See, last year I was busy. Obviously, like anyone else with kids, jobs, lives, I could probably say that anytime. But last year I let busy-ness win. I hired out our Christmas decorating. I didn’t lift a finger and the kids didn’t hang a single ornament. First, let me say that my tree was department store gorgeous. There wasn’t a single personal memory on the tree. In fact, what I discovered yesterday while decorating the tree was that among those gorgeous ornaments were several small gold picture frame ornaments that had hung all last Christmas in my perfect tree. When...

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...