Friday, January 16, 2015

The stories we don't tell you?

I seem to forget that grandmas and godfathers who live too far away love the "stories we don't tell you".

Robbie delivered twice this week.

First, when I picked him up on Monday the admin was cracking up.  They said "just go find Robbie. You'll understand".

You see.  When you have an accident at school its so very Montessori to take care of it yourself and get redressed with some of your backup clothes.

To Robbie that meant:  Two shirts as shirts.  And one shirt as pants.

He held his "pants" up all day.


And then Wednesday I get the dreaded call from school at 10, thinking "UGH, I CANNOT TAKE A SICK DAY WITH A KID TODAY."

Nope.

It turns out Robbie drank the fruit fly bug trap.

The one filled with fruitflies and vinegar.

Don't worry, poison control was called.  Nothing toxic.

Just an embarrassed hilarious kid.

Oh to be three.

Sunday, January 11, 2015

Resolved: Take Two

I'm not going to mince it.

2014 was a big steaming pile of crap cake, with some ugh whipped on top.

Started that way. Ended that way.

We should've known better.  We've joked about it.  Winter Olympic years are our "testing" years. 

We had the mighty ovarian cancer scare in 2006.  We had the house fire + the breaking point of infertility in 2010.

A week into January, we had a pipe burst emergency, and the hits kept coming.  Jobs, houses, family deaths, expensive expensiveness, with the cherry on top of some family drama.   Oh and did I mention I ran the car into a pole in the parking garage?

2014 was one for the record books.

I made a lofty, and frankly, embarrassing new years goal back last January that 2014 was to be the year of brave.

I was going to be so brave.  Whatever that meant. 

I was going to be bold at work.

Make life changes!

Stir it up.

Oh, to be such an idiot.

Unless bravery is survival.  There wasn't a darn thing brave about 2014.  Other than keeping our head above water.  If that's bravery, you don't want me in your infantry come war time.

But HEY!

What do you do when a resolution falls flat?

You do what every other person in the world does.  You make another totally lofty, completely unrealistic and idealistic resolution. 

You know, as you do.

Beside, what's a resolution if you don't make it up 11 days into the year.    You know because giving up caffeine and cocktails and crappy food isn't really my bag of tricks.

Plus this is a parenting/family blog, so those don't really fit with what we're talking about here.

(Also, dip is delicious)

So yea, with all that background, this year's resolution knocked me in the head today, basically at the same time.  First, my friend Seth posted one of those schmoopy (but good) internety poeticy poemy quotes about parenting that was just so spot on. 



Can you read that?

It's just one of those "oif" parenting moments.

You know one of those mornings where when you are thinking "FREAKING A I MADE YOU SOME DARN SCRAMBLED EGGS AND YOU ARE GOING TO EAT THOSE SCRAMBLED EGGS BECAUSE I MADE YOU SCRAMBLED EGGS."

And the kid is all like "NO!  NO SCRAMBLED EGGS!  I WANT TO TAKE A BITE OUT OF EVERY SINGLE APPLE IN THE FRUIT BOWL!"

And you have to be internet smacked in the head.  And reminded it doesn't matter.

None of this matters.

And then this evening you drag the spirited one.  The mighty one to a church dinner for the homeless neighbors.  You mostly take her because she needs to get out of the house and get out some energy.

And she posts herself at the beginning of the service line.

And gives out a napkin to every guest. 

Every one.

To every guest that had no where to sleep tonight, she says "you want napkin, friend?"

Then she pulls up a seat at a table with 4 men in their 40s and 50s who call the streets and the steps of our church their homes, and says "Happy New Year, I Annie.  We watch football."

And you think, oif.  Kids.

They get it.

And we?  We totally don't get it.  We have no freaking clue what matters in life, yet we have this awesome and terrifying responsibility to raise kids who are good, and right, and kind, and smart, and ambitious, and successful, and real.

And you realize, there's not a darn thing you need to do, except see the world through their eyes, and maybe, just maybe, try a little harder to live your world through their eyes.

When's the last time, you spoke to a complete stranger?  Called him a friend?

Sat at a table for dinner with people you had nothing in common with?

Danced in your seat at a restaurant because the song was that good?

Hollered at the top of your lungs in a parking garage because the echo is AWESOME!

Wore an orange sweatshirt and red corduroy pants because that's what you were totally feeling like wearing?

Said "I think I feel like a high five" to your pew neighbor at church?

Jammed to the bells on the organ solo?

Let me guess.  It's been awhile.

So I'm going to try.  Mightily.  To live a little more present and through their eyes in 2015.

I can't say I'll be calling everyone a friend.

Or dancing in staff meeting.

But it's important to remember that wonder.  And to never grow out of it.

We started about six weeks ago, asking the kids at bedtime "What was your favorite part of the day?" 

You'd be amazed at the answers we have gotten.

Annie's favorite part of today?  Giving out the napkins.

And you know what?  It was mine too.

So, consider yourself warned.  2018?  Steer clear.  Don't come near us.  Don't involve us in any major planning, life decision, situation that could go good or bad?  We aren't your folks.

But for 2015, if you see me living like a 2 year old, judge on.  And if you don't, call me out on it.

I might even have three apples, an orange and a cupcake for dinner tonight.

As you do.