it all still counts

I have a tendency to be very self critical.
it's my own voice in my head, but she's mean and she knows how to play dirty

'you should be in better shape she says.'
'those clean clothes have been in that hamper for three days'
'seriously? frozen pizza for dinner again?'
'do we have to be late for everything always?'

the point is, she's not nice. and she makes me feel bad about myself.
and I would bet that I'm not the only one that has that voice whispering terrible little nothings

but today as I was bringing the dogs back home from a quick walk
fueled up by the crisp, clean winter air
i told that voice to be quiet.
because sometimes days are hard
I told her - I reminded me -
sometimes whole seasons of life are hard
sometimes you can just do what you can do
and that's okay

maybe someday I'll feel like I have it together
maybe someday we'll have a better bedtime routine
maybe someday we won't be late to everything always
maybe someday i'll dedicate consistent time for myself to write and exercise and take a bath
but that day does not appear to be today.
probably not tomorrow;
or likely not for this season of my life.
because we have these small humans with so many needs
and i have my students, also, with so many needs.
and this handsome, kind husband who reacts to that mean voice in my head with exasperated pleading, "babe why are you like this? I wish you could see you like I see you."

and all of this 'not quite who i want to be' version of me;
the one i am today;
who could definitely be better
but is also doing the best she got with what she got right now.
she's okay.
she's not perfect,
this life is not perfect,
not even close by a long shot
but it counts.
it is my life right now.
and there are small dazzling little moments of perfect
like when I caught that glimpse of our windows lit up from the path today
and my veins were flooded with the meaning and the feeling of four precious letters: home

wherever you are right now;
maybe on the right track,
maybe you've 'made it'
maybe you're not even in the same zipcode of where you think you should be
maybe it's currently unrecognizable
maybe all we can do right now is what we can do this one day.
one foot in front of the other
just do what you can do.
and that's okay.
wherever you are right now,
know that this counts too.

a viral post and some writer soul searching

Almost six years ago now, my first child; our son, Greyson, was a year and a half and I felt like I was losing my mind.  As a brother-less mother, I felt blindsided with every new age and stage as our son started to grow out of his babyhood and turn into a toddler.  In a panic, I bought a ton of raising son type books, talked to and asked questions of as many Boy moms as I could, and scoured Pinterest for tips of raising boys.

Finally, after being inspired by a list I saw for Dads raising daughters by Michael Mitchell, I put together a list that I would be able to come back to if and when I started to doubt myself as a Mom again (and I have doubted myself about three million times since then!).  Something I could use as a foundation for the kind of Mum I wanted to be for our son(s) based on what I aspire towards and all the good that was raised up in my husband (thank you Gigi!)

This was how 25 Rules for Moms with Sons was written in November 2011.

About three months later, in early 2012, that post got swept up in an internet tornado and has been on a journey all its own - even into present day. In fact, just this week, my original post was re-shared by MOPS International on facebook (thank you), and I'm always so humbled and grateful when my friends/readers tag me in the comments to let me know they saw my words out in the world.

My original post has been run by plenty of websites through the years.  The Good Men Project was the best about it, adding me to their list of contributors and running other pieces of writing I've done.  Many other sites have shared the article and linked back to my site, and unfortunately, some bloggers have done much worse and simply copied & pasted my writing and linked me only as "a blog I read" with no mention of my name as the author.

This post has been discussed in podcasts, run through online newspapers, and re-pinned so many times I've lost count.  I have heard from readers the most heartfelt messages of how it touched them and I am constantly blown away by the kind and loving responses various Moms have to reading it. I even wrote a One Year Later Reflection post about the whirlwind of the piece's internet journey. Just a few months ago, I heard from a Mum that said she still has a copy of it hanging on her fridge.  And my dearest friend just told me that she re-reads it once a year as she's now a mother of two sons (I wrote the piece before she became a momma).  It's also seen it's fair share of critics and haters too (but that comes with the territory).

That singular post -within my whole almost nine years of blogging- has been the biggest thing to ever come out of this blog.  I'm grateful to that post for bringing into my life so many of my now loyal readers and sweetest internet friends.  And I'm appreciative of and so very very humbled by the positive ways it has touched Moms over the years.

So, (finally getting to it now, hah), two Fridays ago, my 25 Rules for Moms with Sons post experienced another bizarre moment, enough so that it's taken me almost two weeks to let my emotions simmer enough to be in a place to share here now with a clear head and grateful heart.

I woke up on Friday morning before the kids, got my coffee, and quickly hopped onto Instagram to see a notification that someone had tagged me in a photo that included the words from my #25 of my Moms of Sons post as the caption without credit to me as the writer.  My knee jerk reaction is kindness and benefit-of-the-doubt, so I responded in kind to both Adrian (who alerted me) and Rachael (who had posted my words without tagging me).  And went about my morning.

Then I logged into facebook and realized what all the fuss was about. The Instagram photo was also shared to her blog page five days earlier and over the course of the week had been shared by:  Scary Mommy, Good Housekeeping, Babble, Yahoo, and PopSugar.  By the time I had even seen it, the original post was shared over 30K times and the reshares were over a combined 20K. And it wasn't until it had already 'gone viral,' before I was mentioned at all as the writer.

I spent most of the rest of the day trying to do some investigative work, figuring out who exactly had shared it and with how much credit to me...

College Candy was better than most quoting my response to Rachael on Instagram (which was my first reaction when I received Adrian's note on Friday morning).

Celebrity Rave did worst than most mentioning me, as almost a nuisance to their story; a bullet point they begrudgingly had to add,  "shared a touching message written by a fellow blogger."  (By the way, in the spirit of internet justice - Daily Mail UK, you should take a look at Celebrity Rave's post  because it looks like they simply copy&pasted from you, never linked up to your post, and also left out any of the decent bits).

I also spent the day, messaging back and forth with Adrian from Tales of an Educated Debutante who was so passionate about making it right for me as a writer that she directed her own readers to join my facebook page (thank you!).  Emailing back and forth with Scary Mommy who apologized for how the whole thing went down.  Responding to a beautiful and kind message from Kara from Mothering the Divide about how she empathizes with how frustrating it can be as a writer, especially knowing that in today's world the likes & shares matter to get your voice heard.

It was certainly disheartening to see firsthand the sort of state of internet 'reporting' that we are in right now.  Lots of people were picking up the photo and caption - some even reaching out to Rachael to interview her about how it felt to go viral.  Do you want to guess how many websites reached out to the writer of the words of the photo?  None of them.  Not one single website that ran the story (even when they linked to my original post) emailed or messaged me to ask for a response from me!  I had a real internal struggle with trying to digest that big time sites were interviewing another small time blogger (who doesn't know me nor even regularly reads my blog) about how something I wrote made her feel....? I just find that it so very disappointing.  It doesn't appear to be about the actual story, but rather it's about being viral  -and that feels disingenuous and shallow.

There were certainly lessons that came out of the experience.  First and most astounding, I may only have a small group of readers, but they are loyal to the core.  I was honestly blown away by their ferocity of loyalty and cry for justice for my words.  I have made some new actual friends across social media, and received quite a few new followers thanks to (although late arriving) credit to my words as the author of the 'homebase' language.

I also had the incredible and important opportunity to practice loving kindness and made, surprisingly, a new friend in Rachael.  We had a chance to talk throughout the day via messenger and as I told her, there are no hard feelings.  I really do understand the nature of the internet and how things can get away from all of us, and also how mistakes can be made.  It does me no good to hold a grudge in my heart, and so I don't, truly.  I deeply believe that what you send out into the world is what comes back, so I choose to send out kindness, understanding, and patience, every darn time.  And at the end of the day - the mommas who needed the message found it in Rachael's post. That is surely the greater good in all of it.

The most difficult part was trying to find a healthy balance within myself.  After six years of my 25 Rules for Moms with Sons post being used and re-shared so many times, it really does feel like something that no longer belongs to me.  Almost like it's just property of the world; of all mothers now.  I think it if had been any other pieces of my writing that had been used without my consent, it would have broken my heart.  But that particular post has been such a beast of it's own in the past six years that it barely stings anymore.  And yet also, trying to justify that it is My writing, My words, My feelings that I poured out onto that page.  It continues to be My words that I have been writing about My family for the past six years. That I should be just as proud and ferocious about my writing as those loyal readers were who wanted to seek out justice for me when they saw this unfold.  That I should see my writer's voice as valuable in the wider world.  To see myself as a 'real writer' who deserves the recognition that comes with people being touched by something that was born out of my heart and experiences.

At the root of this still on-going (?!), six year long journey of this piece - it was My son who inspired this list.  I appreciate so much that it applies to so many mothers and sons (and even plenty of mothers and daughters ), but it wasn't written about Every boy...it was written about My boy.  My boy inspired a list that has been read and shared literally millions of times.  My boy who STILL inspires me to have to continually go back to and cling to that list while he's driving me crazy with his seven year old wild, yet wonderful self.   In my One Year Reflection post, I wrote this and it's still true:

"At the end of the line, for me, the greatest of all prides in this journey of my blogpost (that went from our silly little family blog - to making its way around the internet and has been read millions of times):  it is that it grew from inspiration from a boy.  my boy.   I have printed all of the comments from my post to add to his baby book with this note:  Because of your life and the inspiration you have given my heart that spoke to my brain and moved my fingers - you have inspired moms and their sons around the world, my sweet darling. You are a history maker.  I love you forever and ever - thank you for the inspiration everyday."

Booboo,
my oldest baby.
(I can't think too much about it without crying, but)
I will love you forever.
even when you make me mad, sad, and crazy.
even when you're bigger than me.
even as your wildness breaks all our things.
and your smart mouth breaks my heart.
even then.
my darling,
i love you.
mum.

Lu.

our Lulu was our first pet.  Brandon and I got her back in 2008 in our first shared home (our teeny tiny Punxsy apartment) when she was technically too little to come home with us yet.  B spent a few nights feeding her milk from a dropper when she woke up crying; she gave me the first opportunity to see B in Dad mode.

Lu has lived in every home that B and I have shared together.  She's been with us in Punxsy apartment, Erie apartment, our first home in Erie, the chalet we borrowed from my best friend's family for a summer in Blue Knob, to our home now.  Lulu was kind and patient and sweet with all four of our kids.  She loved snuggling up on the couch if anyone would sit still for a few minutes with a blanket.  She was such a good cat.

It has been a choreographed dance with the dogs and cats since we've had them all together. Bullet's breed (Belgian Malinois/Dutch Shepherd - which we didn't discover was his breed until six years later) has an extreme prey drive and Lulu has never backed down from him chasing - so it's been seven years of keeping them separated, checking doors and gates, making sure the dogs are exercised, etc.  It's been an effort to keep the pets away and safe from each other, but many times of the past seven years, we've found ourselves between them; the dogs' faces scratched and Lulu backed into a corner. It has been a constant feeling of anxiety for me making sure everyone is safe and separated and everyone is good.

It is with a heavy heart to share the news that our sweet Lu died last night.  We found her when we got home from the end of season baseball picnic.  The gate wasn't up and so she must have come up and the dogs were down and the three of them had a tragic encounter.  When we got home, Bullet and Trixie were standing near her, ears and tails hanging down like they knew something was wrong (we believe they probably fatally shook her in the kitchen or laundry room and then carried her over to the cat door to the basement, where they knew she was supposed to be).

Grey was the first to walk in the house, he saw her, turned around sobbing and called out her name.  It was terrible.  Violet and Rusty were already sleep, so B and I held and comforted Gem and Grey as they both wept for about a half hour before the four of us went outside to bury her and say our goodbyes.  It was awful, both as pet owners and as parents to heartbroken kids.

We're going through all the guilt and regret - we coulda, woulda, shoulda a million times and a million different ways.  I keep trying to remind us though that we were always trying to do right by all of them.  To keep them all in our family and all safe and loved.  We could have given the cats to someone way back when, and I think we would have been coulda, woulda, shoulda 'ing that decision.  Or gave Bullet away and we would have been coulda, woulda, shoulda'ing that too.  Is there a right and perfect way to do anything?  I don't know - I think we just have to try to do our best, love with our whole hearts, and try do right by those we care for.

We are hugging a lot today and stopping mid-task with tears in our eyes.  Pets make themselves real members of a family and she did with her snuggling up with a blanket, and her letting Rust chase her around, jumping up into the sink when anyone went into the bathrooms, walking along the bathtub between the shower curtain and liner while the kids were in there.  I often said Lu was the only one in this house who listened to her momma. She will be missed everyday and remembered with loving kindness.  She was a good cat, our first pet, and we loved her.

If you have any extra prayers and thoughts of love and peace - we'd appreciate to have you send them over to our kids.  When I told Violet this morning, "Something sad happened last night, honey.  Lulu went to heaven." she looked up into my eyes and asked, "Can she come back?" and I told her no, you don't come back from heaven and she said, "But I love Lulu." And Gemmi and Grey both woke up today saying, "I'm still sad about Lulu." and I had to confirm that we'll probably be sad about Lulu for a very long time.

learning to run

My first ever half marathon is a mere one month and three days away which is both terrifying and exhilarating.  Brandon and my sister are running with me.  Brandon is running because he is a saint on earth and agreed even though he didn't have much of a choice considering I only asked him after I had already registered us both in our first ever.  Kayla has run a few halfs in her life and so she has been fielding my panicked questions and concerns with patience and encouragement - because 13.1 miles is A LOT of miles if you've never run that many before. 

But over the course of learning to run, ya know what I've learned?  1 mile is A LOT of miles to run if you've never run that much before.  And truthfully that's where I'd say I had started.  

A few years back (about five to be exact), my sisters and our men registered for my first ever 5K, the Color Me Rad race.  At that point, I had a two year old and a barely six month old baby and was way out of exercise habit.  Growing up as a volleyball player, running had always been a punishment - so I learned to hate and avoid it.  I found other forms of active living much more enjoyable and never considered myself a 'runner.' So, heading into the months before my first 5K, I was so anxious about running the race.  I was embarrassed to run in front of anyone, worried I wouldn't be able to finish or keep up, and slightly horrified that it was three miles all at once!  

So I began 'training' in a small way, I started running laps around our yard.  First I started at a half a mile goal, running the perimeter of our yard and then when I got more confidence; heading out into the streets of our neighborhood. I kept pushing a little farther until I finally ran three miles all together (without dying - much to my surprise and delight!) about a week before the race.  The color run was fun and after I was able to finish the race (jogging the whole time!) it felt sort of silly that I was ever afraid of a 5K in the first place.  Isn't that the way with life, it's scary until you do it, right? 

Since that first 5K, I've run quite a few others over the years.  Personally, I never run for time but rather the opportunity to run with people I love and to help raise money for whatever cause is putting the race on.  One of my favorite races is the Santa Hat race at our hometown Christmas parade that I've run with Greyson for the past two years and the races I've done with my baby sis, just the two of us running in the morning and then heading back to the rest of our days like it was no big deal that we ran three miles before the rest of my family had even finished waking up on a weekend morning.

And now, three miles isn't scary to me anymore.  I usually like to prepare a little bit before a 5K, but honestly there have been times when I've showed up to a race without running for weeks but I was sure that my body and lungs could handle three miles at once.  It wasn't exactly pretty (or fun or fast) but I'm confident I can run three miles if I had to.  #zombieapocalypse ....which is a HUGE deal knowing that when I started this all I was afraid of one mile. 

Bullet, our dog, has also been a source of running inspiration for me.  He is a malanois-mix and needs the exercise to help him be calm.  Any chance he can get out makes all of us feel happier.  Even when I don't feel like going, seeing his tail wagging and knowing it's helping him is motivation enough to get me out there.  Isn't that the way with Mums?  to benefit ourselves, it's not tempting enough - but for someone else in our family, by golly, we can muster up the strength! 

I've also found motivation in tracking my mileage.  I use the Runkeeper app (let's be friends!) and seeing how many miles I can tally up over the course of a week or a month helps me stay moving.  I live by the truth that it doesn't matter how fast you're moving, as long as you're moving.  Because, friends, I am one slow runner...I'm talking S.L.O.W.  

The other night when I ran my longest run so far ever which was 6.5 miles, I was averaging about a thirteen and a half minute mile.  This is NOT fast.  like at all.  but you know what, I RAN SIX AND A HALF MILES no matter how slow I was moving.  A mile is a mile...and six and half miles is six and a half miles regardless if it takes you an hour or an hour and half.  When I told B my pace, he was all like, "oh gosh, the half marathon is going to take us like three hours!?" and I was like, "dude, the finish line is the goal."  (he's a saint doubly because despite the fact that he could probs run thirteen miles without any training at an 11min pace, he'll stick by me the whole time because, you guys, he is serious #husbandgoals). 

Besides feeling better about my physical self and strengthening my body and lungs - running has also increased my outdoor time and my solitude/peace time.  I only run outside (we don't have a treadmill, nor do I belong to a gym), and I run without headphones almost always, so my brain moves into overdrive with planning, daydreaming, and reflective mode (after that initial "omigoshIhatethissomuch" thought phase in the beginning of a run, hah)  

If you read here regularly, you know I have a thing about how being outside positively effects everything in your life - but seriously, it does.  I am so grateful to running for this part of outdoor experience for me - getting to notice our neighborhood in a new way, to be grateful to the breeze when I'm sweating, to learn the distances from our front door to the high school and back.   

And I'm sharing this all, not to brag or boast (bhahhahah! certainly not with how slow I move!), but because back when I was first starting - I wish someone would have told me that it was normal to be afraid to run a mile if you've never run a mile before (or haven't in a very long time).  Or that running a 5K for the first time feels terrifying but that it IS possible.  And that if you can feel brave enough to try, your body will surprise you and you can learn to run and not hate it....learn to love and crave it, in fact!  And I wish someone would have told me that who cares if you have a 15 minute mile or a thirteen and a half minute mile or a ten minute mile - because it's the miles that add up, no matter how long it takes you. 

The truest thing is, my body isn't perfect - four kids later it definitely isn't, but even before then - it's darn near impossible to find a pair of pants that fits my thighs, booty, and waist and be the right length...(where my fat bottom girls at?)- but running has reminded me that my body works!  It works in all of its imperfect, jiggling, curved fullness.  It may be slow and sore and tired - but it's mine and it works.  

So running for me has become a gift and a challenge.  A gift to my brain for the removal of distractions and chaos of everyday life - and a challenge to keep moving forward in the literal way.  That this old girl still has many miles left on her, no matter how slow -That I can accomplish forward motion..which actually is a pretty good metaphor for life in all of it's winding, bending paths.  

xxoxo onward, friends.

the dazzling momentitos

this is going to be obnoxiously optimistic and flowery because i'm feeling so grateful and happy and inspired.  if you were to run into me after two glasses of champagne friends, this is how I talk, so you've been forewarned.  although I haven't had any champagne..and probs should - because life, man.

anyway-

it's been pretty hectic over here with the four kiddos, and greyson back to school and flag football practice/games, and a three month old who is learning so much and so fast, and an almost two year old (gasp!! how?!) and our gemmi ro who has all the drama of a fifteen year old squeezed into a four year old's body, and my part time working, and brandon's full time working....and life, man.

and honestly, it is so busy and plenty confusing and tiring - but so very very fantastic.  I don't know if its the awareness that comes with another birthday (whoot whoot 33!) or the perfect amount of time dipped into the adult world that my new job provides me, or doing something that I love and inspires me so much (teaching), or just life, man...but everything feels so wonderfully chaotic.

Even with our new schedules, it has felt that Brand and I have been rowing in sync along the great river of married life with each other - and if you've been married or together a very long time (going on year 17 for us!) you'll know what I mean and how that feels (and also how it feels rowing slightly out of sync...or when only one person is rowing or no one is rowing, hahha).

As always, there are these dazzling momentitos that remind me so fiercely that this wild, so very messy life that we have is one that is beautiful; so beautiful down to the root of the root and the bud of the bud.

here are some of my current dazzling little moments, just so I can remind myself if/when this elation wears off in the near future.

• Rusty's smile as soon as we make eye contact and his cheeks, and the smell of his head, and that squishy neck of his, and I can still get him into his 3 month footie pajamas but just barely.
• Violet's new favorite phrase, "Holy cow!" and her legs are currently covered top to bottom in washable marker and she painted her own toenails (read full toes) and vasoline in her hair - and she's so much the epitome of a stereotypical toddler these days that it hurts my bones in the best way possible
• Greyson asking for a bigolesnug daily for the past week and how excited he is about football and his friends and first grade and how obvious it is how much of a big kid he is and how that's going to be okay because he's mostly a good kid
• Gemma Ro saying everything is 'impressive' and making the biggest deal over my outfits for teaching like I'm the fanciest person on the planet and how she takes such good care of both violet and rusty and how the smallest gesture of kindness can completely turn her whole attitude around like getting twirled or holding her hand while we walk. 
• Brandon.  so much.
• the fog breaking on the hillside before McNally bridge when the sunrise is beaming through so strong and I literally (not.even.exaggerating) spread my arms wide open and soak up the rays for thirty seconds on my way to work in the morning. 
• green tea in my to go mug on my desk at work glancing over my day's lesson plan before the student's arrive
• the weather recently.  goodness, autumn is everything that's inside my heart.
• slipping into our bed at night with the windows open and the fan running and knowing everyone is in their beds and sleeping soundly 

sometimes I write in my gratitude journal in full caps:  REMEMBER THIS FEELING!! :) :) :) 

true story - once upon a time I responded to an email and the person that recieved my email meant to forward it to a colleague but accidentally pressed reply sending it back to me.  at the top of the email she wrote about me:

She! uses! a lot! of! exclamation! points!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

not even kidding.
and i just replied to her and said, "I think this was meant for" (the person she addressed it to).

no harm, no foul - because the thing was, she hadn't met me in person yet, so she didn't know that:  My regular voice is generally in exclamation points!

you gotta embrace your flaws friends.  hold tight to the circus that is your life.
because at the end of the day, it's YOUR circus in all its bold, beautiful dazzling momentitos of weirdness.

today feels like a gratitude journaling full of exclamation points and full caps.
xxoxx

what are the momentitos that you are loving right now?

the real deal

yesterday afternoon, the kids were jumping on the trampoline and the sun was setting behind them and it was just too perfect of a photo to not capture it.

but if you knew the truth, i was so so frustrated and just plain mad when i was taking this.  it was just such a hard day, and i had straight up indignation sloshing about in my insides when i took this idyllic photo in time.

so many times when i talk to people (in both real life and through the internet) they confess that they think everything in my life seems so perfect and easy. i believe it's mostly because i have a tendency to try to (borrowing Jack Johnson lyrics) 'take the picture from the pretty side' to remind myself that above all else, i have nearly everything to be grateful for.

but when people, other moms especially, say things like that - it can be frustrating and overwhelming because, I can assure you a thousand times over...it ain't.  every.single.day i reproach myself at one point (or twenty points), "why are you not better at this?!" "this" being a multitude of things ranging from being a mom, to reacting to disappointment, to tackling mess and clutter.

usually days are sprinkled with hard things but mostly seems fairly ordinary with the little magical moments of gratitude that keep my head above water.

but yesterday, no.
it was the fight with my husband followed by uncontrollable hormonal cryfest before he left for work and then the clutter (dear God, the clutter ev.ery.where.i.look.), and the 27 week pregnant belly in my way and makes nearly every activity uncomfortable, and my inability to ask for help, and the vaccine that made my arm muscle so weak and sort of numb, and the four year old who threw a stage5 meltdown at gymnastics after i had a stare down with trixie, our dog, to come in the house so i could load all three kids up in carseats to get them there while the whole of the gymnastics parents watched (or at least it sure feels like that, doesn't it? everyone's watching and waiting to see how your parenting unfolds during public tantrums) and our one year old literally ran out onto the floor and commandeered the gymnastics equipment.  and the dogs got in a fight with each other after barking for thirty minutes at the quad riders in the woods behind the house that i had to break up by throwing rocks at them (honestly, yesterday, sweet Lord.) and the baby wanted held all day, and our five year old talks in a megaphone voice constantly, and i was tired and pregnant and constipated and yet also so hungry, and i had kind of a runny nose which the sneezing only led to peeing my pants a little every single time, and the entire time my inner voice rolls her eyes at me and shouts, "YOU know other people have REAL problems, tabitha!" which instead of making me feel better and grateful makes me feel worse because it's like, seriously "why am i so sad and mad about things that are dumb when my life is beautiful?! i'm the worst."

for reals, you guys.

and i know some of my amazing friends and family are reading this right now calculating in their minds the ways they can reach out to me with kindness and help -and because you have that autoreflex of taking a moment of pause alone: please know that is why we are friends and why i hold you so close to my heart and in my life.

honestly this post is in no way meant to be some kind of cry for help.

me writing this is just a way to get all of this out so that it stops stirring about in my guts and bringing me down, man.  because today isn't nearly like yesterday, but all that yuck is lingering and i need to shed it out of me little by little (warm bath, reading, being outside, and tackling to do list items has each already contributed to combating the blues!)

and this post is also to tell whoever else out there who might be feeling sad and mad but also battling that incredible guilt that comes with holding gratitude in your heart for a beautiful life that really has nothing to be sad and mad about: me too.

so much, me too.

ps. seriously! don't text me or call me or send me food! i love you solely for reading this post and long distance high-fiving me because you too sometimes.

xxxox

Santa, all I want for Christmas is patience

Dear Santa,

When I originally sat down to write this letter to you, I was frustrated and tired.  I was ready to pen my exasperated letter to you asking...begging for time.
Santa, what Mum of little kids can't use that, right?
What Mum at all can't use more time in the day?
Actually, what grown up can't use that?
More time, especially during this season of hustle and bustle and gifts to buy and traditions to uphold and places to visit and baking and wrapping and elf moving.

So as I sat down, grumbling about how slow my laptop was booting up, my daughter walked into the living room and spilled an entire bowl of cereal.  Let me be more clear, not so much spilled, as accidentally hurled the bowl into the air so that a rainbow of cereal and milk showered three quarters of the living room.  Santa, I swear our natural motto around here is Go Big or Go Home in all things we purposefully or accidentally do.

I saw this happening, as I was in mid-sentence of saying, 'I don't think eating that in here is a good idea,' so my internal flinch reaction was frustration with the fact that the very last thing I needed to add to my to do list, among the laundry list of holiday tasks, regular chores, and child rearing needs, was to add 'mop the living room floor'.

Before I even had a chance to react as she and I made eye contact after the splash, her face crumpled up and said, "Mumma, forgive me! Please forgive me!"

I took a deep breath, and in a calm voice that surprised even me, I had her fetch some towels and we cleaned it up together.  It was only quarter of ten in the morning, Santa, so that certainly had something to do with it (let's face it, my patience bucket is profoundly lower come 5p everyday), but it was at that moment that I realized that my Christmas list needed fixed.

Not because she was immediately heartbroken that I was going to be mad, nor because I am some magical beacon of calm in the face of annoyance.  But because it actually wasn't all that bad or time consuming to just clean it up when I wasn't also using up energy on being annoyed.

Santa, deep down, I understand that the time that I have each day, is just what it is.  There is no getting more because time is just time.  We all, all of us, get the same amount every single day and then it is filled up with life until we fall asleep and try again.

So, Santa, I'd like to change my wish.  What I actually would like for Christmas, Santa, is patience.

Patience to tackle the spilled cereal bowl that flies across the room at 9:45 in the morning (and probably again at 7:30 at night) because someday I won't have kids in my house at all to eat at 9:45 in the morning and 7:30 at night because there will be school and sports and friends and everything that is incredibly more cool than eating cereal in the living room to be near Mum.

Patience to see that an hour spent reading Christmas picture books to my kids is just as valuable as an hour spent folding the laundry that has been sitting in the laundry baskets for three days because someday the kids will be able to both read by themselves and do their own laundry and after all, what's an hour of life?  It is, in fact, both everything and nothing and that's why it is so valuable as to what fills it up.

Patience for the dust and dog hair making tumbleweeds in the corners of every room and the toys and crayon drawings that are never.where.they.are.supposed.to.be because someday my house will be clean and tidy, but in this season of our life it is full of life in all ways possible and that also means full of mess.

Patience for the sounds; so much noise and so loud.  Patience for the humming, and made up words and stories, and the tireless questioning and negotiating, and the incessant 'Mum, Mum, Mum, Mum, Mum, Mum, Mum' that makes up the melody of my day because someday it will be quiet and somehow that will be even louder than all this noise.

Patience for this body of mine that doesn't look exactly like I want it to, nor fit into clothes like it used to because I could use a daily reminder that despite it not being perfect, it sure does work like I need it to, and for that I should be grateful.

Patience for this house of ours that needs repairs, and updates, and has far too much stuff in it because it is the home our children will remember as theirs when they are far away living their own lives and where we work together side by side to make small changes within a budget that we plan together, and where we are safe and comfortable and warm every single day.

Patience for so many things, simply because I live in a country that values freedom of speech and thought and the privilege of #firstworldproblems at all.

Patience for all the things that don't move as quickly as I think I need to move; this laptop, the traffic, the kids, my husband, our pets, the boiling pot of water for dinner, the coffee maker....me and this Studerbaby4 bump, because I must learn to recognize that life is not a checklist.
Look up, Tabitha.

Patience when I can feel frustration bubbling up into my voice and my face and my posture because I can change nothing in the world but my own attitude...and yet that change can change everything in my own world.

Patience, Santa,
to be a better wife.
a better Mum.
a better Daughter.
a better sister.
a better friend.

I know I need to work on this for myself too, I'm just hoping for maybe a little extra dose in my stocking this year if possible.
thank you, Santa
(send my love to the Mrs. and the elves)
xxoxox
tab

ps. also, World Peace
k, thanks, love you, bye.

What do you drop?

Sometimes people will comment to me, "How do you have enough time to do that?" The 'that'referring to any number of things:  blogging, writing, family yearbook making, teaching CCD, The Hunting Daddies, volunteering, etc.  However they mean to say it, it generally comes off feeling like they seem to think I have more time than them.  And although I'm supremely blessed to be a sahm, that doesn't mean I don't tend to go overboard on jampacking my own plate.  Efficiency is an obsession of mine and I could probably use counseling but c'est la vie, right?

There are ways that I've tried to combat the overwhelming feeling that comes with juggling so many balls at once and keep me focused on getting as much in as possible without going a little nutty: 

• Things like instituting a chores schedule (Mondays: our laundry washing/drying and vacuuming & dusting upstairs; Tuesdays: folding & ironing, ebanking, etc).  
• I have a planner that is filled weekly and daily with tasks that I need to do or at least start to think about to make sure no aspect of the juggling acts swings too far out of control.  "Add money to Greyson's lunch account online," and "Plan upcoming weekend trip to SU for 10 year reunion"
• I am faithful to Monthly Meal Planning and doing only one big grocery trip a month (filled in with small trips for bread/milk/produce as needed).  
• We don't have any 'shows' and rarely watch any grown up tv, with the exception of AMC on Sundays at 9pm, of course.  
• I force my tired behind out of bed before anyone else is awake in the morning for at least a half hour to an hour and a half to get the day started without little hands pulling at me.  

..and yet.

There is a running list of things that ideally I'd like to accomplish each day.  Things that fit into certain criteria.  The house chores that are assigned for that day as per my weekly schedule: laundry, folding, ironing, vacuuming...  Then there's the food:  preparing, making, cleaning up.  The kid related stuff; reading books, playing games, teachable moments, hygiene...The adult necessities: bills, scheduling appointments, returning emails/calls, groceries...My own personal stuff: blogging, writing, volunteer projects, exercise, reading...

and however it might appear out there in the world
try as I might, I just cannot seem to get it all in.
ever.
not any day.
EVER.
something gets dropped because the hours in the day (or my energy) run out.

There are definitely things that I am more willing to readjust or drop all together when I inevitably need to make changes to the day's plans.

Nine times out of ten, it's my own personal agenda that gets prioritized and resorted (or dumped off the list all together).  For example, in August, I put an effort into getting the jogged miles in for both my and Bullet's benefit.  We got out on the trails behind our house and we did it!  We made it to our goal of 30+ miles in the month of August.  Which meant that the time I put in there replaced the time I have to put into something else on the list; ahem, blogging/writing which I did nearly zilch for last month.

I also put a big push into finishing our 2014 family yearbook in the last two weeks (I did it!! It's done!! only eight months later!  97 pages and filled with all of our adventures and favorite pictures! But it's done and ordered, thank goodness!!)  Which means I slowed down on the jogging toward the end of the month and continued my poor output on the blogging/writing.

I'm always trying to figure out ways to squeeze the most life out of my days, and this fall season will be no exception.  I'm hoping to do loads more writing - both on the blog and for my novel - and with the yearbook wrapped up and one kid in school (!!) that might be possible without dropping something else.  But as history shows itself, the hours in the day don't generally line up with the ambitions I set up in my mind.

I sometimes look at the women in my life and think, how is their house always so clean?  How do they do so many awesome projects with their kids?  How do they fit such great exercise and healthy eating into their life? How?  How do other people have it seemingly all together?

Every time I catch myself thinking enviously, I'm trying very hard to remember that 'She' is probably just like me, at the end of the night, laying in the bed and grumbling about all those tasks still left on her list that didn't get done today.  That she, like me, is probably trying to weigh the day overall:  "Well, I didn't get in any decent exercise, but I did read that extra book to the kids and we had a good laugh about it and also I finally cleaned the oven...so that balances out, right?"

Are we doing the same thing each night?
If yes, hi.  you're not alone.
Maybe tonight as we tally and count the day's productivity we can both try to remember that if we're doing our best with what the day throws at us and our kids got hugged and giggled a little today, then we're doing pretty damn good.

xxoxo

a young family watches a meteor shower

3:52am

Mom:  Sweetheart, do you want to see the falling stars?
Daughter:  yes, mumma
Mom:  okay, you'll have to wake up then and come with me
Daughter:  can we catch them?


Mom:  You're supposed to make a wish when you see a shooting star.  How many wishes do you think we'll get to make tonight?
Daughter:  eight
Son: one hundred and ninety and fourteen


Mom:  Oooh!  we saw a big on while you guys were getting the blanket!
Son:  Did it fall in our yard?


Son:  Hey, look!  the dipping thing!
Dad:  yep, you're right!  The big dipper!
Son:  it's cool that the stars make things in the sky


Son:  it looks like we're looking up at a big city up there in the sky, huh?


Daughter:  wow!  do you see that blinking green one?
Son:  Gem!  That's just the dog's collar


Mom:  close your eyes! I'm going to take a picture
Daughter:  why close our eyes?
;;flash;;
Daughter:  don't ever do that again, Mumma!

Son:  What did you wish, Mom?
Mom:  that everyone in the whole world would choose kindness
--
Daughter:  I wished I could be a human
Mom:  You are a human, silly!
Daughter:  no, a human who makes ice cream.
Mom/Dad/Son:  mmhmm, good wish.
--
Son:  I wish I could see the boulders in space
Dad:  you mean like an astronaut?
Son:  Yes!
Mom/Dad/Daughter:  mmhmm, good wish.
--
Mom:  what about you Dad?
Dad:  I wish for a blanket


Daughter:  what's that blinking one moving?
Mom:  It's an airplane
Daughter:  wow!  Up there with the falling stars, it better be careful!


Son:  you know, Gem, there are aliens flying in some of those meteors
Daughter:  oh, okay.
Mom:  What!?  no.  Grey!


Dad:  I'm cold, what do you guys think, one more meteor and back to bed?
Mom:  that sounds good, it's almost quarter after
Dad:  over that way I saw a whole bunch of little ones
Mom:  but the biggest ones I saw were over here
Dad:  well what are you going for here, size or quantity?
Mom:  I'd take one big one over a bunch of little ones every time
Dad:  that's what she said


Daughter:  oh! I saw one.  it was so fast though
Mom:  must of been, I didn't see it
Daughter: yea, it's all the way to the Dominican Republic now.


Mom:  thanks for watching the meteor shower with us, guys
Dad: that was pretty cool, huh?  that was a lot of shooting stars!
Son:  and a lot of wishes! maybe everything will be mixed up tomorrow
Mom:  because of everyone's wishes coming true?
Son: yea
Daughter:  maybe! I think it will switch all of our beds around
Dad/Mom/Son:  .....
Daughter:  that would be funny.


4:17am

Not Yet!

At a graduation party recently, a woman came up to introduce herself and said she reads my blog occasionally when it shows up in her newsfeed.  Just like any other time this has ever happened before, I am overwhelmed with gratitude that anyone is reading this thing (besides Mum and Gigi of course - hello Mum and Gigi!) Blogging can sometimes feel very lonely, me just sending these words out into the void with no response, so to hear someone I don't know say they've read and appreciated something I send out is incredibly humbling and heartwarming.

We chatted for a little while about our kids and lives and then she said that she just wanted to say Hi and let me know she's read the blog before.  "Hah, it reminds me of all the things I'm doing wrong as a Mom!"  It felt like a bolt of static electricity and I quickly tried to recover, "Omigosh, No! You're awesome, we're all just trying to do our best!" but the conversation was sort of already over and I felt like I was making it totally weird when she was just trying to give me a compliment.

This is not the first time someone has said something to this effect to me.  Although I think they're meant as compliments, it's hard to take them as such when it comes at the expense of the mother's own self reflection.  My primary goal for the blog is to write about our life so that I can look back and remember that it was just like this in this very moment and how I felt about it right then.  My secondary goal, if possible, is to inspire other families towards kindness and empathy.

Let me make this very clear:  I am by no means a perfect Mom.  I am in no way doing everything right.  Like at all.  Just like everyone else on the planet, things that get shared here and on social media is the highlight reel, people.  These are the bits and pieces that I'm proud of or that make me laugh.  Photo albums are made up of the happy pictures, not the hard times.  But it's the hard times that get you to each next happy photo.  (That is a line from the movie Just Married, friends - but true none the less).

So for truth's sake and making sure it's clear that I'm just as frustrated, annoyed, and overwhelmed as any mom out there - let's do a reality check with Team Studer -

Our dining room table is covered with items that are being collected all over the house because I am on a minimalist kick and want to get.rid.of.all.the.things!  I'm just making my way through every corner and room and tossing things in the trash or in that ever-growing pile.  This has been going on for three weeks now.  The pile does not make me feel better (where are you dining room table?) and the battle for regaining space and organization seems to have almost no dent.  If you can't tell, this is a pain point for me in my life right now.

We have three kids, five and under, who have a preference for jumping, running, tackling, and climbing over playing with toys.  For the toys they do play with, they would much rather dump out the entire container and then use said toys for inventing, weapons, or leaving them about the house in very odd places for later discovering.  I keep trying to find new solutions (and get.rid.of.all.the.things) for the toys, games, and massive collection (how?) and nothing has stuck or worked yet.  We are well into year five of trying to figure this one out, folks.

True story:  after Gemma got in trouble for not listening for the fifteenth time before 9am, she asked me, "Mom, when I grow up and be a Mumma, can I scream at my kids too?"  nice.  My totally unperfect response:  "Yes, if they don't listen like my kids." (Me as a grandma hates me right now).

We have two big dogs that shed a lot, track in muddy pawprints, and think all spaces are their spaces - including beds and couches.  We also have a cat that sheds a lot and leaves claw marks in the back of our furniture.  Bullet doesn't get near enough exercise, Trixie eats too many dropped snacks (vet suggests she needs to lose about fifteen pounds), Lola and Bullet need to be separated at all times, and every single one of them could use some more time and love from their furparents.

Every expert and experienced parent will tell you that one of the most important things to do as a family is to eat together.  We are really good at eating all together at the dinner table with no technology because we believe it is important to our foundation as a family.  

Ya know what no one ever tells you about mealtimes with young kids though?  How exhausting and frustrating it is:  the noise, the endless talking, the chewing with food flying everywhere out of their mouths, the spills, the whining about food they don't like, the constant up & down of getting refilled drinks, napkins, new silverware to replace the one they dropped on the floor.  And the clean-up, sweet baby Jesus in Heaven, the clean up.  You never knew food could be stuck in neck creases, underneath the chair, and in the curtains like this until you've eaten meals with young children.  (maybe not all young children?  Just my children?  okay, my children, then).

I am good at some things as a Mum, just like YOU are good at some things as a mum to your kids.  It might be easy to look at my blog, other mom bloggers, and pins and tell yourself, 'That is such a great mom, why can't I do that like she can?' 

But here's the flipside to that: We can't do a lot of things too! We are battling those same voices everyday with why we can't do something (many things!) as good as we want to. 

Why don't I ever talk about organization and cleaning on this blog?  Because these are NOT things I am good at!  Why don't I have a blog that focuses on healthy and clean eating?  Or exercise? Or diy home improvement projects?  Or calm parenting? Or homeschooling? Again...all things I am not good at it.  

But I do seek out other moms who CAN do those things in the blogs that I follow and on pinterest - not as a reminder of my own weaknesses, but as I way that I can try to grow and learn and be inspired. 

We have a saying in our house when our kids try something new and fail.  When anyone becomes frustrated and whines, "I CAN'T!"  Our reply is, "We don't say can't, we say 'Not Yet!"

Do I feel satisfied with our routine in the day, in the week...Not Yet!

Am I happy with the way our home is organized and clean?  Not Yet! 

Do I make exercise a priority in my life as a way to support my body and mind?  Not Yet!
Do I end each day feeling proud of all my choices as a Mum?  Not Yet!  

It gives me an ache to think that anyone would come here to read and walk away feeling like they are less or overwhelmed.  To you Moms feeling like this, I say ME TOO!  I am no supermom - I am no perfect mom.  I am just 'Mumma' to these kids of ours and I'm spending big parts of my day frustrated, exhausted, and ignoring that little voice in my head that keeps whispering, "You are not good at this," as I walk by loads of laundry, send smart-mouthed kids to time out, and glance at my never finished to do list.  

My hope is that you can come to my tiny corner of the web and sit for awhile, recognize a little bit of your own life, maybe be inspired to say 'Not Yet!'  I want this to be a refueling station where you can fill up on laughs, inspiration, or simply a recognition that you are not alone - even though some days it sure does feel like it, doesn't it? 

xxoxo forever, 

tab

Currently

  

Celebrating last weekend with my handsome husband and a bunch of our friends on the Poker Pub Crawl I helped organized for our high school alumni association.  We had a lot of fun, raised some money, and got a night out on the town like real life grown ups!  Thank you to Abba for watching the gremlins!

Hopeful that spring is coming.  oh, please please.  On the one warm day we had this week, charged with inspiration from 1000 Hours Outside, I braved it alone with three kids and two dogs (!) and we managed to walk over a mile together.  I had Bullet on a leash and Violet in the carrier.  Grey had Trixie on the leash and Gem was in charge of the backpack of snacks.  That's the real secret to success - snacks.

Chatting non stop for almost three hours with my baby sis out to dinner on Monday night.  Brandon was off (only to have to work this weekend, boo) but that might I got to sneak away and get yummy food that I didn't make and giggle behind giant classes of margaritas with my littlest sis for the night!

Happy to finally (!!) get to meet baby Claire this past weekend when we visited with Siri and Dobber while they were in town.  Violet calls dibs on future 'besties!'

Decorating from Easter finally got done this week!  I always get so mixed up when there is a holiday right after you flip over the next month in the calendar.  Oops, dying Easter eggs is on the to do list for this upcoming week.  After we finished hanging eggs from our Easter tree in the front yard, Gemma said that our tree "looks like she's wearing earrings!"

Running all over the place this week!  Gemma and I had a dentist appointment (her first!) in which both of us got good marks.  Brandon, Greyson, and I stopped by the eye doctor (his first!), Violet had her sixth month well check, and then I had a 'lady doc' yearly appt.  At least we're getting them all out of the way, I guess!

Enjoying little routines that the kids and I have gotten into recently naturally.  Like when I fold and iron our clothes, Gemma floats between folding dishtowels for me and playing with Violet, while Grey sorts and rolls the socks and then shoots them like basketballs across the room into the hamper.  And the two bigger kids have also twice now migrated up to Violet's room while I'm putting her to sleep.  They drag in blankets and pillows and lay on the floor while I sing lullabies to Violet.  It's so nice and special and I don't know how it got started but it makes me feel really aware of how fleeting this period in our life is with three little ones.

Reading (still!) The Ten Thousand Things and switched up from Mercy Watson to Super Teddy this week for bedtime reading.

Exasperated with Gemmi Ro.  She's amazing and hilarious, but trying to raise a three year old is like trying to put a onesie on a rabid wolf baby.  honestly.  Grey as a three year old and this same feeling of just staring at him with utter disbelief and frustration is making a comeback as our Gem now is a full blown three.  yeesh.  so much drama, whining, and flat out not listening - not because she doesn't understand but because at three years, they just want to make sure everyone understands that they are going to make their own darn choices and ain't nobody going to tell them nothing.  a paint can spilled in the basement,  long diatribes about how no one loves her because we stopped petting her when she fell asleep, numerous cups and plates spilled at dinner because of dance party attacks that come out of nowhere, and her weight in stolen junk food later - this week i'm just feeling like ugh, help me.

Missing my grandma who had a birthday this week.  The kids and I went to Sweet Frog to enjoy some ice cream in her honor and I told them about her and how she used to run her fingers down our closed eyes and whisper 'eyes' to help us fall asleep.  Grey said that he thought that Jesus probably had a cake for her up in heaven for her birthday.

This week in interesting internet:

The coolest momma ever sporting a bikini on the beach inspiring the masses to wear your momma badges of honor proud.  If you didn't check out this story yet - please do so immediately.   I especially love that she says "I wear a bikini because the only man who's opinion matters knows what I went through to look this way. That same man says he's never seen anything sexier than my body, marks and all. "   because my handsome hubs is exactly like that. xoxoxx love you, b.

This eye opening perspective on what it is like to lose a child. I hope to never be a member of this club, as all parents hope - but it was important for me to read this and feel better able to respond and support parents who have tragically been forced to live on past their children.

Normally very funny blog Stuff MomsSays hit me in the feels with this Thank You post. cryfest.

This video about how words can have such an impact in life. It hit me in the gut for a lot of reasons, one of them being about how much I love writing and putting words together myself. gah, just watch.

Transition from FTWM to SAHM Vlog Series: Intro

Well here's a good laugh for the day!

I was inspired by my sweet friend, Haley (hi, Haley!) to do a post or two about my transition from a full-time working mom to a stay at home mom as she is currently getting ready to take the leap.  She emailed me a week or so ago with questions about budgets and tips & tricks for hard days, and how to feel confident in at-home educational activities, etc.  Love her so much for even considering me as a reliable source!!  And also for supplying great blog content that might help other moms too that are thinking about (or hoping in the future) to make the sometimes scary transition to SAHM.

I was both flattered and apparently wildly overly ambitious as I had a spark of inspiration to use this topic as my first dabble in video blogging.

this is a screenshot, haha.   Pressing Play here is not an option :)

yeesh, after yesterday's recording that spanned the course of the day with multiple children making their appearances in the videos and more distractions and stops then I can count...I'm thinking maybe I overshot my abilities.  lololololololol.

Check out my very first vlog below and please ignore the following things:

• the cuts in takes as I was pulled into a "crisis" every few minutes (and by crisis I mean someone needed a drink or the tv channel needed changed)
• the giant pile of junk that needs sorted behind me (Brandon commented while laughing later:  um, could you not have picked a nicer backdrop of our house?)
• the fact that my exhaustion and exasperation becomes increasingly visible on my face as the video progresses (HAH)
• that on a scale of 1 to 10, my laptop camera quality is a 2.5

But it's only the first one, right?  And maybe I'll get used to speaking on camera as they go on...?  Here's hoping for all of your sake!  This is why I write instead of youtube my thoughts.  Speaking is so less eloquent it's actually funny.  or shameful.  whatevs.

So come back for the first installment of the series next Wednesday to get some insightful information on my initial fears and worries when I was transitioning to a SAHM...or come back for the outtake reel (obviously), or maybe just because you can't look away from this trainwreck.  um, yeah, the last one makes the most sense.

thoughts, general concerns about my abilities both in parenting and vlogging?  HAH.  If you have specific ideas for things you'd like me to attempt to address about my life as a SAHM, please let me know in the comments or on facebook.  I'll do my best to speak to them...and also do my best to maybe fix my hair in the next video.  

Senior Night calls for a kid interview!

In honor of the Blue Jays Senior Night game tonight (and last home game of the season, whew!  that went fast!)  I interviewed the Blue Jays two biggest fans about our favorite team and coach.

What is your favorite part of basketball season?
Gemma:  Going with my Dad on the bus (with the players after away games)
Grey:  Going to practice and going to the locker room like the players.

Who is your favorite player?
Gemma:  Jake
Grey:  Drew and Billy and Dante....well, all of them, Mum!

Do you want to play basketball when you grow up?
Gemma:  Yea
Grey:  Yes!  and then when I get done with college, I want to be a coach too.  Like Dad.

Who do you think would win a basketball game: Daddy or the Blue Jays?
Gemma:  Blue Jays
Grey:  Daddy

You or the Blue Jays?
Gemma:  Me!
Grey:  Blue Jays

What is something Daddy says as a Coach?
Gemma:  Let's go Blue Jays!
Grey:  Jays on three, 1, 2, 3, JAYS!

What kind of coach do you think Daddy is?
Gemma:  a Happy Coach!
Grey:  He's an awesome coach because he teaches the team cool basketball moves.

Do Daddy's players listen to him?
Gemma:  Yes
Grey: (laughing)  um, No.

What's the coolest thing about basketball?
Gemma:  Playing basketball!
Grey:  All the cool moves, like when the player throws it up to the net and the other guy dunks it.  What's that called again, The Loopy Loop?  It's called an Alley-oop.  Oh yea, Alley-oop

What will you miss now that basketball season is ending?
Gemma:  The snacks
Grey:  I going to miss shooting hoops at practice.  I'm going to miss all the players too.  But they're invited to my birthday party, remember?

What do you want to tell the Blue Jays tonight for the game?
Gemma:  I'm Gemma, please can you bring me presents?  Thank you.
Grey:  I love you!  I hope you win today!  And I hope the other team doesn't win and you guys do.  So, can you please do the Alley Oop move?  Billy, you have to throw the ball to Charlie and then Charlie you pass to Drew and then Drew, you come over and dunk it...okay?  And here's what I have to say (deep voice):  Jays on three, 1, 2, 3 JAYS!!!!

A day in the life of the coach's wife

I'm a Mum, wife, daughter, sister, friend and also a writer, family memory-keeper, volunteer event planner, Sunday school teacher, co-owner of a small business, and in-home chef.

But during the months of November through February, I am predominantly the Coach's wife.

Each morning, Coach and I sneak out of bed without waking up two of our kids who have found their way to us in the middle of the night while it is still dark outside.  He gets ready for work while I start coffee and pack food that will serve as his breakfast, lunch, and pre-practice snack.  A quick kiss and he's out the door for work while I attempt to get things prepared for a long day with three kids under five.

Then its breakfast, home preschool lessons, nursing the baby, breaking up fights over who started being rude first.  It's laundry, and lunch, emails sent for an upcoming event to benefit the high school, and multiple glances at the clock.  Gemma catches sight of a college basketball game on the television as I flip channels to cartoons and she shouts out gleefully, "Let's go Valley!"  Greyson insists I watch him play basketball in his room while I feed the baby as he provides commentary on who he is pretending to be the entire time (Look, Mum, Dante has the ball!  Nice shot, Jake!  Drew from downtown!)  Gemma provides the halftime show as 'the little kids get to play on the court.' Once the baby is burped, I am enlisted to stand in as a 'bad team' (the "Yellow Jackets" or the "Shade") as Grey giggles and calls out his 'friends' names all of whom play on Daddy's team.

Early afternoon sets in and I'm overjoyed to receive a text from Coach that he has a minute to swing by to pick up Grey to go to practice with him.  "Make sure he's ready though, I'm going to be cutting it close" says the text.  Grey is ecstatic and dresses head to toe like the teenage players do and even packs his Spiderman backpack with a change of clothes so he can shower after practice.  He wants so badly to be like those big boys.  'Mum, do I look like a real player?' he asks as Coach swings in the door, swiftly changes into his practice clothes, smacks kisses on his three girls and he and Booboo march out into the cold for practice.  I'm down to two kids!  

I get Gem bathed, feed the baby again, bathe the baby and get in some playtime and snacks with our two sweet, silly girls.  Gemmi gets some much deserved choose-her-own movie on the iPad while I fold clothes and iron Coach's work/game shirts.  Gemmi announces, 'I want my Daddy' before falling to sleep on the couch.  I move her up to her bed and I'm down to one kid.  Violet hangs out with me in the kitchen while I start dinner at 8p so it will be ready by quarter of nine when the boys should be getting home. 

At 9p I wonder where they are and finally call to check at twenty after but it goes to voicemail.  At 9:40p they finally make it home, Grey still wide awake and dinner in the oven staying warm.  A player wanted to stay after to run through some workouts and a parent had called on the way home.  I finish feeding the baby for the last time today and Coach gives her a kiss and puts her to bed himself while stopping in to kiss Gemma while she sleeps soundly.  

Dinner starts at nearly 10pm and even though he knows its late Grey still begs to play basketball before bedtime (we don't but promise to tomorrow).  Once Grey is fed and in bed, Coach and I talk about his work day, practice, and which players are doing well and which are not.  We talk about the team we play tomorrow and who will start and why.  

I sit and listen in complete pride that those teenage boys have my capable, dedicated, and loyal husband as their coach.  I also feel entirely grateful that my husband has those talented, hilarious, inspiring teenagers in his life.  That we have those kids in our life.  

I clean up, Coach takes out the garbage, organizes stuff for work tomorrow, and gives the dogs much needed attention while catching a college basketball game and rewinding it to call out to me, 'Babe, come watch this.'  We both wearily make it up to bed before 11:30p.

And today, we'll do it again, but it's game day - so later tonight, I'll feed the baby right.before.we.go and then I'll get three kids bundled and loaded into the car by myself and drive twenty-five minutes to the gym talking and telling stories so the kids don't fall asleep on the way there.  

I'll remind Gemma that we can't see Daddy until after the game even though he's close enough to call out to, I'll take pictures for the senior day program I'll need to make in a few weeks, I'll sell 50/50 tickets, I'll  allow the kids to buy a vending machine or concession snack (or the equivalent of dinner tonight, oops!).  I'll keep a running tab in my mind at how much longer I have until I have to feed the baby again and double check that I packed my nursing apron in the diaper bag.  

I'll cheer enthusiastically for players who are not my own kids,  I'll be able to guess what Coach tells a player he just pulled from the game, I'll bite my tongue when I hear negative comments about Coach from the fans behind me who don't know who I am, and I'll recognize the clench in Coach's jaw after a bad call and know it will be a point of discussion later tonight when we get home.  

We'll wait in the gym lobby, saying goodbye and 'good game' to all the players as they head out to their cars to go home.  We'll talk to the AD and her kids and joke with the custodial staff and security guards as Greyson and Gemma run circles and Violet starts to get a little fussy as she'll be well ready for bed.  

We will be the very last cars to leave the parking lot, driving separately home for the twenty-five minute ride hoping the kids will fall asleep before we get to the driveway.  And then we'll stay awake chatting about the amazing moments in the game, and the frustrating moments, and whether or not things could have gone differently.  I'll ask about the post-game locker room chat and we'll talk about how things will go at practice tomorrow and who we have next game.  We'll try to get to bed before midnight.

It's our Daddy that gets quoted in the newspaper, and our Daddy who gets congratulated or blamed after wins and losses.  It's our Daddy who proudly wears a blue jacket that has the word 'Coach' embroidered on the sleeve. And our Daddy who rides the bus to games, attends weekend practices on his only days off from his full-time job, and who answers calls from parents, players, and notes from teachers about his players' behaviors in class.  It's our Daddy who stays late after practice to give personal attention to players who ask for it or need it, who shows up late or leaves early from birthday parties, and who's basketball schedule determines where, when, and how we make plans for most of the winter months. 

Our Daddy is the Coach, but it is our entire family who is committed to the Blue Jays.  

And quite honestly, we wouldn't choose to have it any other way.

let's go valley!