Through the Stillness

First and foremost I would like to thank God. God has led and I have followed Him on the path of my beautiful life. Thank you to my parents for all you have done and especially for moving back to Michigan. I remember being in despair, loathing the winter and everything about the town we lived in. My mom would say, “There is a reason we moved back. Everything happens for a reason. Your future spouse may be here in Michigan just waiting to meet you.” Well Mom, you were right. Thank you to my husband’s parents as well. They raised quite the man. He is strong when I am weak. He never tires of my touch (he especially loves when I scratch his back). He protects and provides for me and our kids more than I could ever dream of. Let’s not forget that he is absolutely handsome. His eyes still make me weak. When he looks at me it is impossible to stay mad long…not that he ever makes me mad. (Chuckle.) Thank you to my friend Casey. If she wasn’t such a weirdo then we wouldn’t have been such good friends and then I would never have met Matt. Thank you to Heartland Home Finance for employing my friend Casey and Matt. If it wasn’t for that crazy place. Wow. What would my life be like? Makes me queasy just thinking about it. And last, thank you to Ruby Tuesday’s, for feeding our faces on our first date.

In all seriousness…I really want to thank the Academy. No. I want to thank every word, every step, every right choice, every wrong choice, every heartbreak, every person, every butterfly, and whatever else brought Matt and I together. But mostly, thank you God (again). Without God my life would be a complete mess.

I am also thankful after two kids that I still fit in my wedding gown. Hey, I work hard to stay fit so yep I am proud. Happy Anniversary, Matt!

My heart was racing the entire day. My mind was a jumbled mass of anxiety filled thoughts, I could not focus on anything. Oliver was only three months old and helped keep me busy. But––I don’t think a minute went by that I didn’t check the clock. When it was finally time to pick Luke up I practically sprinted to the door. As soon as I saw him my anxiety vanished. No that’s a lie. But I did feel better having him back. I kept asking him how his first day of school was and he answered it was ok. Just ok? Did you meet a lot of new friends? What did you do all day? How were your teachers? He answered with one word replies and it about killed me. I realized I may have been a bit much to handle after he said that he would talk about it later.

It took a long time for me to be comfortable with him being in school. Luke had never been in daycare or any similar setting before and it was hard putting faith in other people––strangers really. Luke had some adjustment issues that we worked out and I too worked out my own issues. I soon realized (after I calmed down) what a great school he was in. They never seemed to push him to do anything he wasn’t ready for. They let him lead in terms of learning and that made all the difference (main reason why I chose a montessori).

Today was his first day of his last year of preschool. We dropped him off and he did not look back once. Come to think about it, I don’t think he even said goodbye to us. That is Luke though, he is a secure little guy. Last year after we dropped him off I cried uncontrollably and I admit, I did shed a tear today as well, but not for the same reasons.

He has grown so much over the last year. I didn’t realize it until today when I sat down and thought about who he was a year ago. I have to give credit to his school for a lot of his growth. They did an amazing job and I can not wait to see the impact they have on him this year. I too have grown as a parent. I now know how important it is to allow other people in––to guide and mold him into the man he will one day be…it really does take a village.

If you ask––I would tell you that I am not a morning person. But yet there I was at 5:30 this morning on my couch (coffee in hand) and inspirited. There is something about early morning that brings an immense peace that no other time of day allows. My days run smoother when I am given the time to warm up. To describe this, let me start over from the beginning…

Oliver is engrossed with his blocks and I engrossed in thought. I feel a peace, a lightness in my soul. The quiet semi-solitude will be gone soon and the hustle of a busy day will emerge. So I absorb all I can. I slowly drink my coffee, the warmth flows down my throat and I savor every ounce. My body awakens at its own pace, not like some mornings when I am forced to get up and instantly start mothering my kids. Oliver is hungry and I feed him. Now content––he plays some more. I am finished with my coffee and take him in his room. He brings me a book and plops on my lap. When the book is finished he brings me another. We go through about five books and then move on to puzzles. As both our energies rise, our play enlivens. We play basketball and Oliver starts running around laughing. It is now that Luke wakes up but I feel ready for the day. So all is good.

When I see someone struggling, my heart swells with sympathy. I am mostly socially awkward and don’t know what to say face to face. I guess sometimes I also feel it isn’t my place to bring up someone else’s issues. So I will express my feelings here. This goes out to more than one person…

It pains me to see you struggling, hurting, and tired both physically and mentally. Know that when I see you like this, I am there for you although I may not know what to say. I do not claim to be or want to come off as a wiseacre, but there is a solution––an easy one. You place the weight of life and all the problems life gives on your shoulders. Just stop. Stop right now. Take a deep breath and then pray. Pray for clarity, pray for strength and pray to see all the blessings that are right in front of you. Pray for the faith of a child. To see life’s awesome wonders. To be excited for each and every day that you and your loved ones are alive and breathing. To be reminded of what really matters. To find your very own passion(s) and to go forth and walk your own path (sounds lame but I don’t care). To know that you are enough and that you are loved. To allow others in and know that you can’t do it on your own.

I hope this helps. I hope you know I care about you and will always be there. When life gets the best of me, I hope you remind me of the easy solution.

I confronted my fear. I looked the treadmill in the eye and stepped up. (Deep breath) I pressed the go button and….nothing. I pressed another button and….nothing. Perplexed. I looked to the guy to the right of me and he looked away. Well thanks nice guy. (Really big deep breath) Ding ding ding the emergency stop was pulled out. Don’t laugh, I was really nervous. I pushed it back in and (boom) started walking on the treadmill. It took fifteen minutes of tedious walking to pull out the courage to run. But I did it. I ran on the treadmill and I am still standing, still alive to tell the story.

Next goal is to run the indoor track…

Oliver has been waking up around 5:30-6:00ish. Out of desperation, we lay him in bed with us in hopes that we can gain more rest. It usually lasts a half hour or so. He climbs on me laughing and poking at my face until I finally get up. I sit up and he climbs out of the bed. First thing he does? Grabs my phone and hands it to me––with a proud look on his face. Adorable, isn’t it? Well not so much. It is sad. Sad that he knows that my phone is that high on my priority list. The funny thing is that phones have always been a pet peeve of mine. I get irritated when people are always on their phone. It is pathetic when you are at a restaurant and can’t have a good old fashioned conversation because you are too busy checking updates on Facebook or sports scores.

I now am that person. I irritate me! I pick up my phone for no reason, hold it in my hand, and feel anxious when it’s not in my sight. Why? Habit or addiction? Ugh. I will say, that when I am playing with my kids I set my phone down (most of the time). Another thing I don’t do, maybe because I am paranoid in public places, is play on my phone at a park. Your kids are playing and you can’t see what they are doing. Hey! Your kid just pushed my kid but you didn’t see it because you were too busy playing Candy Crush. What if someone took your kid and when asked what you were doing you’d have to say, “Uh, playing on my phone?” While my kids are eating a snack or lunch is a different story. My first thought is me wondering where my phone is. Wow.

I know I am not alone in this habit/addiction. I see it everywhere I go. I don’t even want to carry on into the texting while driving issues. Ok, I feel the need to give just one example. The other day a car cut me off when the driver was making a left turn out of a grocery store. The road is a very busy road and she in no way had the space to be turning. My heart sank when I swerved to not hit her (two precious kids in my backseat) and so I look over and she was on her phone…obviously texting! That is brave to be making a left turn while playing on your phone. Think about it, she was leaving the grocery store so I assume she lived close by…why couldn’t she wait to get home to play on her phone? Was it that important that she put her life, my life and, my kids life in danger? I know I may not be as bad as some like the car texter but I am still bad enough that it distresses me.

Will I throw my phone away? No. Do I think phones are the devil? No. Phones have many great qualities and are essential in many ways. I just want to be more present, again. I like having real conversations and feeling the connection it brings by looking people in the eye and conversing. The most paramount possessions are the people right in front of me. No device can replace them. The most precious moments flash by so fast. Did I miss some because I was on my phone?

Luke is four and has many moments where he acts like a four year old…or three year old…or sometimes a two year old. It’s normal. Kids revert back to stages many times. It is all a part of learning and growing. Heck, there are times that I act like a two year old. Aside from the moments of being a kid, I have the pleasure of witnessing the person Luke will be as an adult. Sometimes it lasts only for a few seconds, but those few seconds make me proud. He is my little gentleman. Here are a couple instances.

My friend and her two daughters came in from out of town for a visit. Her youngest, Camden, is Luke’s age. The night they drove in, I allowed Luke to stay up past his bedtime so he could see her. He said, “I will wait all night to see Camden.” Tired and barely able to keep his eyes open––he did just that. When they pulled in the driveway, Luke and I went out to greet them. Camden gets out of the car holding her backpack and says, “This backpack is so heavy.” Luke quickly responded, “I am strong, I’ll carry it for you.” A couple days later, we were in the backyard and Camden announced that she did not like bugs. Luke, naturally, grabbed his plastic baseball bat and stated that he would get rid of all the bugs for her.

The other day at a playground Luke was playing with a little girl. She was struggling to get across one of those bridges that move when you walk across it. Luke jumped off the structure and “held” the bridge down so it wouldn’t move for her. Then when they found a bug by the slide, Luke quickly got rid of it and (very proudly) said, “I got rid of the bug for you.”

I just adore hime. The end.

I went for a run today. The first real run in a while. I felt like I was five hundred pounds and had never ran in my life. I am not new to running or working out. It is something that I enjoy. I work out about four days a week (on a normal week). Since Oliver has been born, I just find it easier to go the the gym. I drop the kids off at the child watch and I workout. Easy. To wait for Matt to get home to go out for a run just doesn’t work. Or maybe that’s an excuse.

My usual workout is the elliptical or the bike, and then some weights. I am trying to tone up a bit so I have been doing more weights lately. Ok like I said, I enjoy running. I have a weird phobia when it comes to treadmills. I am convinced that my shoe lace will get caught and I will fall to my death. I am going to blame this one on my brother Tony. There was a night (a long time ago) that he and someone else turned a treadmill on full blast…then ran, jumped on the treadmill and whooshed through the air landing on their butts. This went on for about an hour until one of them got their pants caught and ripped. It was hilarious to watch. But after that, I realized the sheer power that a treadmill holds. I have the same phobia with escalators.

The gym that I go to has an indoor track. Here’s my next lame excuse. The track circles the entire upper gym. When I am on an elliptical or other machine you can see the track. I have a habit of watching the runners. I study the real runners…I watch their technique, take mental notes and forget as soon as I get home. Then there are the not so real runners. Actually most of them walk. I don’t mind walkers, physical activity is physical activity and it is good. It is the social walkers I can not stand. The walk and talk to their friends and don’t move out of the way people drive me looney. I almost have wanted to get off the elliptical, tap them on the shoulder and remind them of their rudeness. There are lanes designated for walking, you know. No excuse…unless of course you can’t read. Still no excuse because it should be common courtesy to let someone pass. I get so irritated and I am not even the runner trying to slide past them.

I guess the point of all this is that running is the best workout (in my opinion) and I have no good reason not to be doing it more. Especially since I really like to run. I need to face my fear and jump on the treadmill. I need to stop making excuses and wait for Matt to come home or wake up early and go for a run. Maybe I should also use the indoor track. If I have to shove some social walkers out of my way–I won’t. I’ll scream, “Get off my traaaaaccccck.” I won’t do that either. The most I’ll do is say excuse me and maybe roll my eyes as I pass.

We walk in the coney island, it looks like an old diner. The place is small…really small. There is a counter with stools and Luke runs up and sits on one. Luke asks, “Can we sit here?” He brings his best pouty face forward and bounces with anticipation. We give in and decide Matt will just keep Oliver on his lap. There is one waitress attending to all the tables. Like I said the place is small so it is not surprising. She has a hard expression on her face and she speaks without emotion. Matt and I give each other the sarcastic “great” look and roll our eyes. I am tired, hungry and don’t feel like dealing with a mean waitress. When we order our food I can feel her eyes go through me. Her glare makes me even more irritated and Matt and I shoot each other another look.

When the food arrives, she places Luke’s poke in the middle (over easy) eggs in front of him and he asks in a demanding voice, “Where is my toast!” We apologize for Luke and tell the waitress he is still learning his manners. She chuckles. Wow she can actually smile? Then she looks at me and says, “My son still forgets his manners sometimes”. I chuckle. Our eyes meet and it feels like we connect. She then tells me her son who is older has down syndrome and although he knows his manners he will push you out of the way as he is saying please to get to what he wants. The connection places me in her shoes for a moment and a flash of her hard life goes through me. I look at the place differently. I see how hard it must be, even though it is a tiny restaurant, to be the only waitress. Also how hard it is to be a waitress––period. Her mood lightens up and she is more talkative. She even tells me, as she hands us a plate of graham crackers (that we didn’t ask for), that her son packed her a lunch…of only graham crackers. I laugh and everyone eats one. We pay for our food and get up to leave. She hands me two dollar coins and tells me that they are for the boys. “Put the coins in each of their piggy banks and it will bring them good luck.” We thank her and leave.

I walked into the coney island with a chip on my shoulder. I didn’t sleep well the night before and was moody from other things not even worth mentioning. The waitress seemed to have a chip on her shoulder as well. Maybe a customer was mean to her or maybe she just had a lot on her mind…I don’t know. What I do know is I want to remember her and the brief connection we had. I want to be able to see that no matter how moody I may be and for whatever made me moody…there are others who are struggling at the same time. We get so caught up in our own issues that we forget that everyone has issues that they deal with. Funny how a dinner at a little coney island put things into perspective for me.

Morning
I am rocking Oliver; our cheeks are pressed against each others. Luke crawls up on my lap and I kiss his forehead. Luke reaches over and holds Oliver’s hand. Both boys are smiling. There is no other place I can imagine being. It doesn’t last long. Luke gets down and asks for something to eat. Oliver follows. I make breakfast and then dress the boys for the day. We walk to the park that is down the street. Oliver follows Luke around and his eyes tell me that he can’t wait to climb and play as his big brother does. We walk back home and change into swimsuits. The boys splash around in the pool then climb into the sandbox. Wet sand is stuck to every inch of their exposed skin. I rinse the boys off with the hose, dry them with a towel, and we go inside.

Afternoon
It is lunchtime. I put a cheese pizza in the oven for Luke and make Oliver a grilled cheese sandwich. After lunch Oliver goes down for a nap. He naps for about three hours. During that time, Luke and I do activities…spelling, crafts or whatever. I also fit in some laundry and dishes. Luke loves to help with the daily chores. Oliver wakes up and we play in his room. He loves the Elmo puppet book. Both Luke and Oliver dance around as Elmo the puppet (Mommy) sings silly songs.

Evening
The day has passed by so fast and it is time to cook dinner. The boys flock to the kitchen and the whining for food begins. In order to stay sane, I blast some music and dance around. Distraction works wonders. The whining winds down and my boys are happy dancing and laughing at their goofy Mommy. Dinner is just about finished as Matt walks in the door. The boys attack him. Matt takes them upstairs while he changes. I set the table and then dinner is served. After dinner, we clean up, relax and then get Luke and Oliver ready for bed. Oliver goes down first and then Luke. Matt and I will hang out and then go to bed.
This is my usual day. How lucky am I that I get to stay at home and experience this kind of joy on a daily basis? I only work one weekend a month and sometimes that feels like it is too much. I love that I get to watch my boys grow, laugh, cry, throw tantrums, play and discover. I love my simple life. The end.