“I don’t want to wear shorts to school, my legs look fat and ugly.”

“I’m not going to finish my sandwich, I don’t want to get fat.”

~*~*~*~

There are a ton of things about parenting my kids that scare me half to death. If it’s possible to worry about it, then I will. But few things strike honest-to-God fear in my heart – most worries I can dismiss as unlikely to very unlikely and not those fears keep me up at night.

But the thought of my either of my kids developing an eating disorders?

That fear paralyzes me.

I remember when Scorch was little – around 5- he didn’t want to wear a big puffy jacket because it made him look fat. Bean didn’t want to wear anything that showed her legs when school started this year because they looked “fat and ugly.” Scorch joked today about not wanting to finish in lunch because he doesn’t want to get fat.

Statements like that make me panic.

The Hubs and I work out daily (well…5-6 days a week). We try to make healthy food choices, but we don’t deny ourselves much (hence, the working out). We talk about being healthy and strong and the words “diet” and “fat” don’t ever, ever cross our mouths. We don’t body shame anyone and, even when it’s just the two of us, never remark on people’s physical health. We talk to the kids about how we look how God wants us to and how it’s up to us to keep our bodies strong and healthy. I have a belly (thanks PCOS!) and the kids notice that and ask why. So we talk about how my body performed miracles and kept them safe for 9 months and now, this is how it is and how grateful I am that I can run, lift weights and hike with them.

Yet, they still make comments about being fat or their physical appearance.

When they do I want to shake them silly. They are both tiny, skinny kids without a spare ounce on them. Do I tell them that? Do I tell him how awesome their bodies are? Do we list all the great things their bodies can do no matter what they think they look like?  I do all of those things while shrieking on the inside, wondering why in the hell my 9 and 7 year old are thinking like this.

I don’t know who to blame- kids at school? TV? radio? friends? Do I need to call a therapist? Will saying all the right things sink in? Do I need to model better behavior? I really don’t have a clue.

So today, I sit here and I fret. I worry and I wrestle with my thoughts and pray that is one worry that never turns into reality.

The kiddos started school on Tuesday and we spent all weekend sucking up every ray of sunshine and free time that we could. We went to the pool, kayaked on the lake, had sleepovers and celebrated with both friends and family. In short, it was an amazing weekend. The transition back to school went as smoothly as possible (4th and 2nd grade- how is that possible?!) and the kids are as happy as they can be when back in the classroom. I spent the first day of school catching up with friends and telling everyone how awesome our summer was.

I should have known I’d get smacked down sooner or later.

Yesterday I went to work and started to feel sick as the day went on. Achy and miserable, I finally left the office at 3:30 to grab the kids and come home. My goal was to get the kids from school, come home, take some medicine, whip up some meatballs (super easy- let me know if you want the recipe), boil some pasta, get the Hubs and Scorch to baseball practice and let the Bean drown herself in Netflix while I went to bed. If I played all my cards right, I would be in bed by 5:45.

Instead, I got home and asked Scorch to let the dog out. When doing so, he noticed that our umbrella hooked up to our patio table was tipped over from some wild winds we had earlier in the day. When I went to right the umbrella, the whole glass table top shattered around me. The kids came running outside – with me screeching at them to STOP – to see what happened. After taking in the carnage, the Bean noticed that my wrist was bleeding. In my shock, I didn’t realize the glass cut my wrist, side of my other hand and the top of my feet. They kept asking me if I was Ok, and I kept telling them I didn’t know. I was still holding the damn umbrella with glass everywhere, so I was too concerned about getting the umbrella moved and ensuring no one stepped in glass to pay too much attention to what was happening with me.

Bean started to cry and Scorch kept asking me over and over and over if I had to go to the hospital. I finally got the umbrella down safely and ran to the sink to wash the blood away, with the kids at my feet. Thankfully the cut wasn’t nearly as bad as it seemed, so I slapped a band-aid on it and went out to see how the hell the clean up the half shattered table.

Not this years table. This was the table that shattered two years ago in a wind storm. This year, imagine the table upright with half the glass on the ground and half the glass in the table.

I’ll spare you the details, but an hour later, our trusty shop vac did its job and the deck was clear of any pieces of glass. I honestly debated waiting and letting the Hubs handle it, but I couldn’t do it. It would have made me crazy. Lucky man arrived home just as I was bagging up the last of the glass.

Poor Scorch had two bowls of cereal for dinner but we did mange to get him off to practice on time. With the boys gone, I made Beaner dinner and laid on the couch while she took her bath. Finally, I thought- I’d get her out, give her the tablet and let her watch Netflix while I went to bed. Imagine how pleased I was when I discovered that the wind knocked out out TV, phone and internet too.  She and I ended up having a lovely evening, but no one got to bed before 9, I still feel like death warmed over and we’re in the market for a new patio table again for the second time in two years. Preferably one that isn’t glass topped.

Next time anyone hears me rhapsodizing about how great our summer was, slap me.

Dear September,

Well, you’re finally here. I wish I could tell you that I am happy to see you, but really- I’m not. It’s not you, I swear. In my neck of the woods you’re absolutely gorgeous, full of warm days, cool nights, slowly changing leaves and misty mornings.

It’s more that when you arrive, summer is over. And we have had an *amazing* summer.  We went to NC for a week and we did some camping. I didn’t even write about our trip to New Jersey, but that was another picture perfect vacation filled with family, the beach, the boardwalk and lots and lots of ice cream. We rode the waves and the rides. We went to bed late and slept in and just relaxed. It was lovely!

When we were home, the summer was full of baseball and swimming pools and friends. The kids went to camp almost every day and came home coated in sunscreen, sweat and, more often than not, glitter from various projects.  We threw schedules out the window and played family baseball games in the yard long past bed time. The Bean had her very first sleepover and Scorch got to spend time with his very best friends. We even got to hang out with a baby tortoise.

And if that wasn’t enough, we decided to take a last minute trip up to Niagara Falls this past weekend. 9 and 7 are just about the perfect travel ages and this trip was amazing from start to finish. No one cried, not one fought, we all slept well in the hotel AND we got to see extended family. And the Falls? They were Mother Nature in all her glory.

So you see, September, I’m just not ready to let all this go yet. I’m not ready for the stress of a new school year, for colder weather or for schedules and early mornings. I love that my kids smell like sunshine and chlorine and that they have all the time in the world to hunt for racoon prints in the dry creek bed. I know 4th and 2nd grade are going to be amazing and that soon enough we’ll be in a good routine but for right now, I’m going to sit here and be so thankful that we had a summer amazing enough to mourn.

Thirty-seven? How is that even possible? Am I the only one who gets taken by surprise every time they look in the mirror, expecting to see their 17 year old self to be looking back? 17 year old me didn’t have these under-eye circles and the random gray hairs though…

36 was a wonderful year. I made a vow that I would do things that scare me last year and I did. I did it in small ways by using my voice more and speaking up even when it would have been easier to go with the flow. I did it a large way by taking a part time job that took me out of my comfort zone and put some constraints on mine and the Hubs schedule, but has ended up being amazing. The Hubs and I did it while making some decisions for our family on some big topics like having more kids (no) and moving (one day).

I also held some reptiles, including Boo.

It’s an anaconda, nbd.

So, I’m now 37. Outside of being slightly boggled by this fact, I plan on enjoying the hell out of this year. My goal this year is to find my balance. This past year, while awesome, veered more towards the crazy than I would have liked. Things like date nights and work outs took a back seat to kid’s practices and work which is not good for a million different reason and I’m old enough to know better. So here’s to saying a no a bit more and being mindful of what’s really important. Here’s to family and friends and more love than any one person can handle.

Here’s to 37.

Oh my Bean, how can you be 7? When I look at you, 95% of the time I still see my baby. The other 5%? That’s when I see the hints of the girl you’re turning into. You’re coltish with these legs that don’t end and these long, spindly arms. You have this weird physical presence that makes you seem big when you’re really a wisp of a thing. If you weigh 45 pounds, I’ll be shocked.

You, my darling, a contradiction and a mystery to me. At home, you are loud and brash and opinionated. You rule with an iron fist and are quick, witty and so freaking fun. But away from home, you embarrass easy and are as quiet as a mouse. People tell me how sweet and shy and reserved you are and I laugh and laugh and laugh. If only they knew, baby girl.

Because you’re such a contradiction, I worry I’ll break you. You and I lock horns and neither one of us lets go and that scares me so much. I don’t want to break you – you are a glorious creature. I just don’t want to be broken by you either. It’s a fine line we’re going to walk and I hope I manage it with grace and with my sanity intact when it’s over. Because as astounding and amazing as you are now, you’re going to be 100x more so as you grow. It’s my privilege to get to witness that.

So as you blow out your candles for this, your seventh birthday, this is what I wish for you this year:
> I wish you to keep your amazing sense of self. You know your mind, child, and you have since the moment of your birth. That’s a rare gift- don’t lose it.
> I wish that you learn how to bend a little. I don’t want what makes you, you to be broken, but learning to bend a bit will serve you in the long run.
> I wish that everyone can see what an amazing, funny, sweet, quick witted, whip smart kid you are. I hope you learn to be your true self around more people because those people will be so lucky when you do.
> I wish you the gift of friendship. Watching little girls navigate friendship is a very cool thing and I hope I’ve given you the role models you need to find your tribe as you grow.
> I wish you the knowledge that you’re secure in our love. Always. Forever. There is nothing you can do that would make us not love you. We may be mean and we may get mad- but we still love you through it all.
> I wish that you can see how amazing you are. I hope you always know that your awesome even when you’re in 7th grade (which is, IMO, the worst time in any person’s life) and you hate your hair and your parents and your clothes and life is just a mess- I hope you still hold that kernel of truth that tells you that you don’t have to change who you are for anyone. Because you’re the best.

Happiest of birthdays, my sweet girl. You are my sunshine and I’m so very lucky to be your mom.

All my love,
Mom

They say that all women marry their fathers. Literally doing that would be creepy as hell, but marrying a man like my father was one of the best decisions I ever made. Growing up, my father did his damnedest to balance his work as a cop with his family. This meant working odd shifts to make sure he could attend our events, picking up sports just because we played them and making sure he was always around for us. My Dad continues to be one of our biggest supporters, strongest allies and clearest voices of reasons (whether you want to hear him or not).  We are all so lucky to have him in our lives.

The Hubs, bless him, is just as an amazing father (thanks to his father!). I married a cop with a life just as crazy as my father’s and the Hub’s is doing the same amazing balancing act that I grew up with. He coaches our kids, takes them to school every day he can and tries his hardest to be around every night to tuck them into bed. He picks up where I fail, talks me off the edge and makes me laugh every day. My kids are lucky to have him and so am I.

This is a terrible picture, I’ll own that. It’s was taken from my window looking down at the Hubs, Scorch and my father grilling this past Mother’s Day. But it makes my heart happy knowing that my little boy will one day grow up to be an amazing father thanks to the incredible men in his life.

Dear Beaners-

Last night was a NIGHT. You had a fantastic day at school and then it was off to the dentist. You are so scared of the dentist, but you were a rock star. I could tell how nervous you were, but there were no tears and you got through it. It was so proud of you and, as a reward, we decided to stop for ice cream. And that is where the wheels fell off.

You were already pissy that we were going to get our haircut instead of going home. Then the ice cream you wanted had hot fudge on it. That hot fudge caused your ice cream to melt faster then you could eat it, so your bowl overflowed. I was already on edge from a stressful weekend and you and your brother squabbling in the car and I didn’t react to the huge mess of ice cream on your lap and the car seat as well as I should have. I snapped at you and you, my sweets, snapped right back.

And that was that. I was standing in the parking lot yelling at you, my 6 year old over, melted ice cream and you were screaming right back, rejecting all my attempts to help. We were a literal and metaphorical mess.

Bean- I hate nights like that. Even though the night ended on a good note, I still am sitting here feeling like a jerk. I’m the adult, I’m the parent- I’m supposed to know how to act appropriately.

Except, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes you push every single button I have at the same time and my head explodes.  And sometimes I push your buttons and your head explodes. And this scares me to no end because you’re six. We are lucky enough to still have at least 12 more years under the same roof and I can’t wait to watch you grow. Truly. You are an amazing kid, and you’re going to be an equally amazing teenager and adult. You have the brains and ability to rule the world and I love watching you.

But, girlfriend, you and I both need to learn grace with each other. I am the adult so I’ll take on the lion’s share of the work for now, but you’re not off the hook. We both need to learn to take a deep breath and walk away sometimes. We both need to learn how to talk to each other with clearer, kinder words. Your father and I are doing our best to give you these tools and words and skills so you can tell us what you really mean when you tell us your shoes is too loose, then too tight, then too loose again and then end with an ugh I hate my life! and a slammed door.

I adore you more than chocolate milk. You are my favorite six year old in the world and I can’t imagine how boring life would be without you in it. Know that when I’m angry or when you’re angry or when we’re both angry, that I love you. Nothing will change that no matter how many stupid fights we have. You will always be my favorite daughter.

But sometimes, bedtime is my favorite part of the day.

Love,
Mom

Did you know today is National Best Friend’s Day? Neither did I. But it is and I’m always looking for an excuse to love on the incredible women in my life so here we are.

The Hubs makes fun of me because I have more then one best friend. He says that’s impossible and I say it’s not. Some of us, like the Hubs, are destined to have a very few, special select friends in their lives. And that’s wonderful. Some of us, however, are destined to have more from all stages of life. My friendship cup runs over and that’s freaking awesome.

I have my sister because everyone’s sister should be their best friend. We weren’t as kids and even today there is no one that can get under my skin faster then her, but she is the one I talk to almost every day and she is the one who loves my kids like her own. She’s the one who laughs when I talk/whisper right in her ear and ask her how she’s doing in a certain tone of voice because she’s the one who gets that inside joke. She’s the one who will tell me when something doesn’t look right and she’s the one who taught me how to pack a diaper bag less like a suitcase 9 year ago. She talks me off the edge at least once a week and I can’t imagine a world without her in it. I love her deeply.

I have my friends from growing up. These are the incredible ladies who remember my bad perms, awful fashion choices and even more awful taste in boys. They rocked to NKOTB with me, learned how to remove paint from car bumpers when we accidentally hit something when we took our first solo trip to the mall and spent long lazy summers at the pools with me. We grew up going in and out of each others houses and knew that we couldn’t get away with anything because our parents would always check in and up on us. That didn’t mean we didn’t try though, so these are the women I made memories with sneaking out of each others homes, trying booze together and growing up together. We cried at our high school graduation and promised to always keep in touch. And we did. We are a year shy of our 20th high school reunion and even though we may not talk as often as we like, when we do, it’s like no time at all has passed. They keep me grounded and I love them fiercely.

And then there are my local friends now. My sisters in parenting and marriage and life. The women I see weekly if not daily depending on the sports season. These are the women that keep me sane, the ones who co-parent with me on the nights I need it. The friends that will help out in a pinch and who know my children almost as well I do. They are the ones who see me at my worst and my best and love me regardless. They know by the tone of my voice if it’s been one of those nights and will listen with compassion and humor when I need to lose my shit at someone just so I don’t lose it at my husband or kids. They give selflessly and help make my life 1000% times more smoother thanks to carpool and play dates and communal dinners. They are the ones I can’t wait to share the next 11+ years with as our kids hit their milestones at the same time- elementary school, middle school, dances, sports, proms, dating, graduation, college and all the little pieces that make up life in between. They are the ones I’ll be calling and checking in with as our kids try to sneak out of our homes and get into trouble together. They’ll know the reason behind every gray hair on my head and wrinkle on my face. They’ll parent my children when I’m not up for it and I’ll do the same. My love for them is boundless.

I’m a very, very blessed woman. #friendsrock

This past month our local community has gone through unspeakable tragedy. A 6 year old was killed in an devastating and completely preventable car accident. A 16 year old was killed on Prom night by her ex-boyfriend. She broke up with him, then refused his efforts to get back in touch with her, so he showed up at her home with an imitation Army knife to scare her, so she’d see how much she still loved her. Then this weekend, two talented, smart high school seniors were killed in a car accident. They were coming home from the mall and lost control of their car.

We didn’t know any of these kids, although we certainly knew of them and have many friends who mourn them deeply. I haven’t written about this because I didn’t want to exploit their tragedies or make it seem like there is a personal connection when there isn’t much of one.

However, this latest tragic hits close to home because when I was turning 16, I lost my friend Paul in a car accident. I hope what I posted about what happened after Paul’s death helps those that mourn to know their family and friends are in a good place even though they are so desperately missed here. Here is what I shared:

Paul was a sweet kid I went to school with. He was short with dark hair and amazing eyes not unlike my Scorch. He was a wise-ass and a charmer and he always, always had a big grin for everyone. He was honestly one of the nicest people I ever have met.

Paul died the summer I turned 16.

The day is etched into my brain. I spent the afternoon driving around country hills with my boyfriend- with no particular destination in mind, we just enjoyed the day. When I got home my parents were literally standing in the window watching for me. Paul was in a car crash- he was driving on a windy road and crashed head on into a dump truck. He was killed instantly.

At almost-16, I had never lost anyone close to me before who wasn’t elderly. My friends and I had lived a charmed life up until that point. Paul’s death shook us to the core.  The days after his death are still so clear to me. The crying, the huddling together, the wake, the funeral, spending time at Paul’s mom’s house trying to prop each other up.

About 10 days after Paul died, I spent the evening with two friends. As it often did, our conversation turned to Paul and how we wished we knew that he was at peace.  On the walk back to my house, we sat down on the side of the road and asked Paul to give us a sign that he was OK.  We sat there in silence- waiting, watching for that sign. After a few minutes we realized how silly that was- because anything from the owl hooting to the car honking could have been a sign. So we got specific.  We told Paul if he was OK to please please cancel swim lessons the following day. The three of us taught swim lessons for 4 hours a day and wanted a break.

That next day while I was driving to swim lessons, I saw one of my friends and her mom driving away from the pool. When I got to the pool, the director was sitting outside. She told us that lessons were canceled that day- the pool pump broke in the middle of the night.

I still get chills when I think about that.

And here’s a follow up from last year:

A few weeks ago, I had the chance to talk to a psychic. I realize there are a lot of fakes out there, but I also know that some people  have a talent that I’ll never understand.  It was towards the end of my 25 minute conversation with this woman and I wasn’t entirely convinced I was speaking to the real deal. She got some things completely right, but other things seemed to be entirely off base. She asked if I had a last question so I asked about Paul. Here is what I asked word for word: “When I was 16, I lost a friend of mine. We asked for a sign to see if he was OK and we got what we thought was one. Was it?”

There was a pause and the woman I was speaking to started to laugh:

Your sign had to do with water. And yes, don’t worry, your friend is wonderful!

I hope this brings those who mourn a small measure of peace.

This morning was a big one. Today was Muffins for Mom where the 1st grade class gets to have breakfast with their moms and then put on a little presentation for Mother’s Day. I kid you not when I tell you it’s one of my favorite traditions at the kid’s school. This was my last one and I think I was more excited then the Bean.

But, like life goes, nothing went according to plan.

All was fine until Scorch’s stomach got upset. Why? Who knows. So poor Scorch spent more time in the bathroom than out of it this morning all the while worrying that he was getting sick. Beaner is trying to tell me that we have to be at school at 7:45 but I’m convinced that Muffins for Mom doesn’t start until after morning assembly at 8:15 so I’m not worried. If we had had two cars at home, I would have taken the Bean just in case and the Hubs could have brought Scorch when he was ready. But, we were down to one car this morning because mine is in the shop getting the snow tires taken off. (No, Mother Nature, this is not a dare).

We finally made it out the door and over to school. We walked in to take the kids to morning assembly to find the Muffins for Mom presentation just starting. My stomach is in my feet and I felt so badly. But Bean just looks at me, smiles and darts off to join her class like it’s no big deal. I get to watch the whole song (which makes me cry), get presented with a flower from Beaner and it’s amazing.

After the song, we realize that breakfast was before morning assembly and not after and again, I’m a little sick over missing this. But Bean’s teacher graciously offered to let us go eat, just the two of us. So we do. And as we’re eating, the Bean tells me that this is the best morning ever.

So, my sweet kids, this morning did not go like it was supposed to. There were tears (mine), nerves (Scorch) and a little stage fright (Bean). It wasn’t perfect like we had envisioned it- not even close- but it was perfect for us. And sometimes that is all you can ask for!