Well, right now, tis the season to be really, really busy. Christmas parties, concerts, practices, Girl Scouts and more practices. Add in work (did I tell you all I started a 2nd job? I work at home a few night a week until 11 pm and it’s awesome, but still, work) and the day-to-day fun stuff like laundry and cooking, then throw in a metric ton of wrapping, baking (sort of) and shopping and you have one exhausted me.

My mad wrapping skills.

The Hubs and I had a kid free night last night. Know what we did? Shopped then got take out so we could come home at 9:30 and collapse. Christmas is kicking our butt, you guys.

But, man, it’s such a fun time of year. The kids are in love with Christmas. The movements of our Elf, Buddy, overnight is something they marvel at every morning. Their reactions to the videos from Santa today revealing that they both made it on the nice list were the most priceless things ever. Seriously, I wish I could show you video of when the Bean found out she was on the good list- it’s amazing. The child was *floored*.

Scorch was literally wringing his hands because he was so nervous watching the video from Santa.

Despite the craziness, I’m trying to take the time to soak all this in. There is Christmas music on every minute we’re awake and the only thing on TV (besides football, natch) is Christmas shows. I want to just wallow in the kid’s excitement because I know it won’t always be this pure. So far this whole holiday season has been amazing- cannot wait to see what the rest of the week brings!

From my family to yours, a very happy Thanksgiving. I hope you laugh until you can’t breath, eat until you feel sick and surround yourself with all your favorite people.

Every Friday we unite for five minutes to write on one word. What that 5 minutes is up, there are no edits or second-thoughts, those word go live. This week, we write on notice.

Go.

One of  my favorite times of day is picking you both up from school. I walk in to the chaos- the yelling, the screaming, the shrieking and the balls bouncing. There is usually so much chaos that you don’t notice me, but I notice you. I get to watch you both in your element and just bask in your energy and joy and see the life you’ve made outside of our house. The life with friends and sports and markers and basketballs. I get to see how you interact with your friends and your teachers and the college kids that volunteer at the school.

Scorch, I notice how infectious you are. You are a joyous kid, quick to laugh and eager to run around like a mad man. And you, my sweet Bean, I notice how much fun you’re having.  You’re not as loud and rambunctious as your big brother but your joy is just as evident as you play with your BFFs in the corner. I notice both your bright smiles and shining eyes and I see how the other kids gravitate to you both.

I hope you notice how proud I am of you both every day. I hope you notice how very much you’re loved every second. Never stop noticing that…

I have been home almost a week now and the Bean is still Not Happy with me.  Or rather she is, 90% of the time. Then she turns on a dime and she’s all of a sudden spitting fire.

There’s no telling what’s going to sour her- the other night it was because I dried her off when she asked me to after a bath (evidently I wasn’t actually supposed to dry her off when she requested it).  Then it was because I wouldn’t contort my body just so to lay on her floor at bedtime (just sitting there like a normal person wasn’t good enough). Then it was feeding her the exact dinner she asked for (she didn’t mean it- she really wanted chicken which wasn’t even on the menu). Each transgression is met with yelling, stomping and dramatic proclamations that I don’t love her and never wanted her (which- what?!)

Frankly, she’s exhausting.

My brave. amazing, gorgeous girl.

And I know this isn’t just about me being gone last week- girlfriend has had a lot of adjustments since starting school. 1st grade is hard, like really hard. She’s not exactly struggling, but she’s not breezing through either. Math isn’t just 3+4 any more, it’s 3+4=1+?. The rules are stricter, the expectations higher and play time is greatly reduced.  She loves school and she’s always happy to go, but there is a strain there even if she’s too young to identify it.

There’s been a couple nights this past week when I’ve laid down in bed next to the Bean after she’s fallen asleep to tell her all the things she was too mad to hear earlier. I tell her how loved she is, how wanted, how special, how smart and amazing she is. I hope those messages sink in as she sleeps and she rest well knowing how thoroughly she’s adored even when she is the biggest pain in the ass. I tell her these thing during the light of day too when she’s ready to hear them as it never hurts to hear it twice.

I never, ever want the Bean to loose her fire and her fierceness. I want her to always be strong and smart and opinionated and loud about her feelings. I want her to always feel heard and loved. But most of all right now, I want a nap and some peace and quiet.

A few weeks back, I turned 36. I celebrated in a number of awesome ways but the first (and the most exhilarating) way was jumping 10 feet off a diving board into 61 degree water.

Did I mention it was also beautiful?

The water was so cold it knocked the breath right out of you and I literally gasped for air as I made my way back to the ladder.

It was awesome.

Every year I try to come up with some goals around my birthday. Not so much resolutions- but things I want to be mindful of.  My dive off the board inspired me.  36 is the year where I want to do things that scare me. I want to push myself to do things that make me uncomfortable and take me out of my comfort zone. I want to take classes. I want to learn a new skill. I want to try new foods and make new memories. I want to find more diving boards and jump in feet first.

So, here’s to a year of finding new ways to take my breath away.

You know, like posting a picture of yourself in a swimsuit on the internet for all the world to see.

95% of the time, Scorch is a really good natured kid. He operates on a pretty even-keel and it takes a lot to make him upset, but when he’s upset he tends to go full scale Drama Queen.  Case in point, this afternoon.

I didn’t pick the kids up from school until 5ish, which is late for us. We had to stop for gas on the way home, then stop at the Verizon wireless store because the replacement phone they sent me for my broken phone is also broken. I’m prepared with snacks and bribes and ready to conquer my errands.

At the gas station, Scorch starts complaining that he’s thirsty and could we please go inside to get water. I’m mentally debating which would be a bigger PITA- getting the kids in and out of the car to get water or dealing with Scorch’s whining- when I open up the side door of the car and find not one, not two, but three unopened bottles of water. Perfect. Issues solved.

But of course it’s not.

This water was “boiling” hot and he wanted cold water. (Which- he’s a liar. The water was cool- he just wanted to go inside and try to get more snacks/candy/juice out of me). So I called his bluff and our exchange went like this:

Me: Dude- just drink the water. There are starving kids in Africa that would love to have this water. (why yes, I am turning into my mother by pulling out the “starving children” guilt trip on my kids).

Scorch: They have water- they don’t need this water! I want cold water.

Me: What water are you talking about? It’s a desert in places in Africa.

Scorch: Duh- mom, the whole continent is surrounded by water!

Me: Scorch, that’s salt water. You can’t drink that. If you drink it, you’ll die.

Scorch: Well, if they are dead, they won’t be thirsty any more like I am!

And that is why I went into the Verizon Wireless store with mascara smudged on my cheeks from laughing so hard. Scorch didn’t mean to be funny and didn’t mean to make light of starving kids- which made us laugh all the harder when I explained to him how very awful/twisted his comment was.

As my kids get older, I try really hard not to cross that line. I don’t want to embarrass them, nor do I ever want the words I share here to haunt them as they grow.

But some stories are just too good not to share. (warning: slightly crude language ahead).

I was putting things away in the bathroom while Scorch was taking his shower. Once Scorch knew I was in the room, he started talking. Or, more specifically, asking questions. I kid you not- not a word of this is made up or embellished.

Mom- what happens if your balls pop?

You mean your testicles?

Yeah- those. What happens if they pop?

Well, why in the word would they pop?

Let’s say I was playing with them and they just popped- what would happen?

We’d have to go to the hospital I would imagine.

Do they have pee in them? I guess they have pee in them and the pee would go all through my body.

Maybe, buddy- I don’t know. (We have still not had The Talk so if he wants to think they have pee in them, they have pee in them.)

I bet it would hurt, wouldn’t it?

I think so! The question is, why are you playing with them so hard you’re afraid they’ll pop?

I don’t play with them that hard- and I don’t want them to pop. They’re awesome- like always having a toy attached to me.

And then I walked out of the room because I couldn’t talk through my laughing.

Dear Kiddos-

For some reason my Facebook feed has been full of posts this week trying to make me feel guilty.

Guilty for not hanging on your every word and every thought and every moment. Guilty for yelling at you. Guilty for not staying home with you full time.

And you know how it makes me feel? Really freaking annoyed.

Let me tell you a secret, my darlings.

I’m doing the best I can.

I adore you both to the moon and back and think you two are *the* most amazing creatures on earth. But sometimes after pushing you for 15 minutes straight at the park on the swings, I’m bored. So yes, I’m checking my phone. Maybe it’s to text your dad about dinner or maybe it’s to check the news or maybe it’s to do something completely frivolous. So what? You’re not neglected, you’re not ignored and you are more then capable of entertaining yourself for 5 minutes.

And, yes, sometimes I yell. Loudly. Repeatedly. And usually after 1) I’ve asked you to do something five times nicely already or 2) you’ve done something dumb that you know is not allowed like smacked your sibling. I don’t yell for long and when I’m done, I don’t hold a grudge or try to shame you. I don’t try to intimidate you and make you fear me, but you know what? Sometimes a little fear is a good, good thing. There were more then a few times when I didn’t do something I shouldn’t have simply because I was scared of how Nana and Papa would react.

I’m far from a perfect parent, but our house is filled with love. Yup, this new job means for a least a few nights a week our life is crazy but we never go to bed without playing some game and we rarely ever don’t eat as a family. We have breakfast together in the morning and the last words you hear me say when I drop you off at school is “I love you, have a good day!” (admittedly at bedtime you hear “I love you and don’t want to see you until morning.” but still).

We love you madly and you know it- so I’m saying to hell with the guilt.

Love,

Mom

As anyone who’s been following this blog for the past 6 months, it’s no exaggeration to say that my family has been going through a series of mini-crises. The Hubs’s was ill this summer with mono and the flu. The wind upended our patio table and shattered glass everywhere. The dog locked herself in the bathroom during a storm when we weren’t home and tried to eat her way out through the wall. A tree fell on our shed, demolishing everything inside it.  And then I got laid off from my job of 13 years.

And you know what? I still have it good. My life is a good- no, great- one despite this rash of bad luck. And I owe a portion of my good life to the men and women of the Armed Service. Their courage, sacrifice and dedication have let me and every other American live a safe life- a life full of possibilities and pride.

Today is Veterans Day. This day marks the end of WWI in 1918 and was created as a holiday to remember and honor all those who served in the military. In 2012, there were 21.2 million vets living in America and over 2.5 million of those served in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Of that 2.5 million, over 37,000 have been deployed overseas more than 5 times and over 400,000 have been deployed more than 3 times.  Think about those numbers for a second.  Makes my problems seem pretty insignificant in comparison doesn’t it?

The good news is that modern medicine and battlefield triage have advanced so much that, proportionally, more of the men and women are coming home than ever before. But not all are coming back in the same shape they left. An estimated 51,000+ service men and women sustained physical injuries in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and an estimated 320,000 have sustained Traumatic Brain Injury.

Those figures are staggering, aren’t they? I share them with you so you know exactly who to thank and why this Nov. 11^th.  If you feel the need to do something based on these figures, check out the Wounded Warrior Project– they do outstanding work helping injured service men and women live a productive, independent life. Looking for a new hero? Check out Taylor Morris– one of five people who have survived a quadruple amputation. Life as he knew it ended at age 23 when he stepped on a bomb- and yet he kept pushing and now drives, skis, kayak’s and snorkels.

It’s really easy to get bogged down with the stress of every day life, but today I hope we can all step outside of our daily drama and realize just how good we have it thanks to our Vets.

It’s amazing how fast 12 year can go by.  I mean- a word, an image, a sound can all bring me back to that Sept. 11th like it was yesterday, not 12 years ago. I’ve shared before where the Hubs and I were that day and how damn lucky we were that we, and our extended family, made it through the day unharmed.

So here we are 12 years later. In that time we got 2 cats, we moved, we got a dog, we had a baby, then 2 years and 2 months later, we had another one. I survived a car accident and the Hubs has come home every night from his crazy job.  We’ve done what those almost 3000 people should have been able to- we’ve lived. We’ve laughed and cried and loved and fought. We’ve danced and celebrated and mourned. We. Have Lived.  I just wish they had too.

9/11 showed us how fleeting life can be, so I hope I continue to find the joy in the every day and I hope I teach my kids the same. I hope they learn to take the time to watch the colors in the sky, to laugh with a friend and to jump in the puddles during a later summer rain storm. I hope when they learn about the selflessness of the first responders that day, that “hero” takes on a whole new meaning.

My kids don’t know about 9/11 yet. There’s no need- they’re still babies. Soon enough they’ll learn about evil and sadness.  But when they do, they’ll also learn about all the good that came from a horrible tragedy and they’ll know there is still so much good in this world. And that good will always win.