LOST A SOCK

It's beginning to look a lot like...oh come on, you know...

For what Autumn was this year (which, I think, was my best fall ever) I bid my farewell with a smile and a wave and a heart full of fond memories.  And pictures.  Lots and lots of pictures. 

 
Whether it was homeschool, or Marin making her way to a more manageable age while I settled comfortably into mothering three, or my growing appreciation for nature, I don't know.  Possibly a combination of all of those things.  And I'm hoping Christmas will bring much of the same happiness and good cheer.

Sant, Marin and myself, Thanksgiving 2009

To quote the late Joseph Campbell, "I think that what we're all really seeking (more than even the meaning of life) is an experience of being alive."  I think so too-- that most people, at their core, really want to dig their heels in, and to feel what it is to be alive.  Less going through the motions, less riding out the monotony, less self-medicating.  More being alive.  I want to be alive as often and for as long as I am able.

(Yes, I was most certainly alive at Thanksgiving, champion consuming ninety-four pounds of my mother's home-made stuffing, until I nearly exploded.)

 
Kevin and Jenny cooking, slicing and seriously crazy, at my mom's.

I cannot really say what this holiday season will bring for my family and myself, but this year I put together a simple list of fun and meaningful Christmas activities that I would like to see come together for us.  (Hello, goal oriented!) 

I am so excited about this holiday season, which Kevin and the kids and I really celebrate from just before Thanksgiving until the New Year, hoping to stretch Christmas from what might be only a day or two at best, to an entire month-long celebration of giving, happiness and faith.  Some of the items on my list are complete no brainers, because it wouldn't be the Christmas holiday without them, and others are meant to add a little cheer.  And some of them were completed quickly and crossed out, of course.

• Read The Night Before Christmas (My late-night Christmas Eve tradition with the kids, once they're bathed and in their Christmas pajamas after we come home from Kevin's mom's house)
• Venture out to the mall for a new family picture 
• Bake festive cookies, and sample the dough, of course (We do this every year with my mom.  Lots. Of. Sampling.)
• Take a long drive up Chicago's North Shore to enjoy the holiday lights (We so love doing this, and have added to the tradition in recent years, stopping at Dunkin Donuts for hot chocolates and a box-full of Boston Cremes.) 
• Go Christmas shopping, just Kevin and I, the weekend after Thanksgiving (another long-standing tradition of ours) (thaaaaanks Sant & Leslie, for babysitting!)
• Be thoughtful with the gifts we purchase and make for our friends and family 
• Eat dinner backwards, starting with dessert
• Host a Christmas Movie Party (Something new for this year!)
• Shop with the kids for our giving tree ornaments, one for each child (I started this last year, hoping to teach them how blessed we are to wake up Christmas morning to a family room full of presents.  Each child gets an ornament with an age and gender that corresponds to their own, and picks out and wraps a few presents for him/her.)
• Make popcorn garland
• Get dolled up, have a special dinner and see A Christmas Carol production on stage (We have tickets for Kevin, KJ, Jack and I this weekend!)
• Narrate Christmas stories to each other in front of our fireplace
• Write and mail letters to Santa
• Learn about how Christmas is celebrated all around the world (You're seeing some active homeschool planning in the last few, yes?)  (We begin our unit on Christmas Around The World tomorrow, actually.)
• Make our own gift wrap
• Decorate our house, listening to Christmas music (This is surely one of my favorite events as a mom-- helping my kids to put their collections of ornaments on the tree.)
• Shop with the kids for their parents and siblings (Again, hoping to drive home the concept of giving at this time of year.) 
• Read The Christmas Story

So our house has been decorated, we've sung bunches of Christmas songs.  We are mostly finished with our shopping and I've got some swell art projects planned for homeschool.  I am so happy that we are here already, with 2009 seeming to pass in the blink of an eye.  Knowing how quickly this season, along with everything else, passes, I really hope to savor all of the best parts. 

What are some of your traditions or favorite ways to celebrate the season? 

Totally appropriate, the day before Thanksgiving. Completely.

Hey, remember that time a year and thirteen days ago I started a diet? 

(You love diet talk the day before Thanksgiving, don't you, friends?)

Anyway, a year ago.  Plus thirteen days. 

I had given birth to Marin just a couple months before, and felt ready to hit the hard trail again.  I started Weight Loss Wednesday here, mostly because it worked before, and then a month later I quieted myself about the whole ordeal.  I decided to lose weight without broadcasting my weekly successes and failures to the entire internet this time.  It felt right.

So it took me longer than I thought it would, but I finally hit my pre-pregnancy number again, just this morning!  In the last year and thirteen days, slowly slowly, I lost forty-two pounds, and am now ready again to attack the remaining twenty that I'd never lost the first time around.

Whew!

I've got a very long-standing relationship with food and dieting-- thankfully one that has grown into something more positive than life-threatening over the last four years, but long, long, long-standing nonetheless.

Let us take a quick walk down memory lane, shall we? 

Here are Sant and I, in 2005.  Just about a month before I became pregnant with Jackson.  My loves included giant oatmeal cream pies, flipping channels on television, gossip, complaining and fast food three times a week. 

I don't mean to sound so irreverent about it, but gosh, guys, I don't even know who that person was.

This was my tipping point, not quite one year later and about forty pounds heavier than the picture before.  I was so happy to finally have my baby, but physically and emotionally I was a trainwreck.  I remember being in the hospital after having Jack, talking to my sister about dieting.  I felt, at that time, that if I didn't do something I was going to die.  Not necessarily in a physical way, where I'd up and keel over, but the urge to find myself and pull things together was so strong it was almost tangible for me.  I think back to this time often.

Same mom, same baby.  Eighteen months later.  I did what I had to do, losing ninety-two pounds.  I tackled many of my bad eating habits, dealt with underlying emotions from the past, worked on my self esteem, found myself.  And God I felt better. 

After I reached this point, in the summer of 2007, I let myself coast for six months.  I still had weight to lose, but I desperately needed a break from counting every calorie.  In that time I gained eight pounds--- eight that have haunted me until this day, because just after gaining them I found myself pregnant with Little Missy.

Need to gain a quick fifty pounds?  Crave fruit.  In the most ferocious, maniacal way you can imagine, daily, for nine months. 

After all was said and done last fall, and I had a perfect baby girl, I felt a little defeated.  Who works that hard for that long to lose that much weight, only to do it all over again?

I had two choices, though, to lose it again or stay where I was.  And I didn't want to be where I was.

So here are Sant and I, about a month ago.  Stronger.  On a beach together again, much thinner than our 2005 picture.  Sant had lost her weight forever ago and has successfully kept it off.  I was making my way back.  

This time, my loves are photography, reading, meditating, teaching first grade and preschool in my family room, and most recently, treadmill running.  I enjoy raw vegetables and whole wheat bread, and a Hershey's Kiss every day after lunch.  I embrace my sugar addiction and my ability to lose weight slowly, for as long as it takes until I am not only back to my pre-pregnancy weight (today!) but to twenty pounds down from here, for good.

I also (apparently) enjoy kicking Sant's ass hip,

though I always say I'm sorry and wipe the shoe dirt from her pretty white jacket.

May I not gain forty-two pounds at our (two) Thanksgiving dinners tomorrow, so I can live to see the other side of this denim size.

I think I will.

Damn, that was fun.

Happy Thanksgiving, my friends.  Among so many things in my life, I am so thankful for you. 

Coming home

In nearly four years of blogging and more than six hundred posts, I don't believe I've ever been away this long.  I'd like to say I was hammering away at the Life List I had left you to stare at for more than two weeks...but really I've just been here and there.  Or, not here.  At all.  For no real reason, really.  And I'm sorry.

Now late in November, I feel us beginning to settle in for the long winter ahead, our first as a homeschooling family.  We have not a single daily appearance to make, besides our semi-weekly engagements with basketball and library class, and so begins the very first time in several years where I will work to ensure that each of us see the light of day often enough. 

At fourteen months old Marin is leaving her infancy back in the dust, now having learned to run through the house to keep up with her brothers, and developing her own interests, and growing her vocabulary. 

And teeth.  May I not forget to mention the entire mouthful of molars that have been working to join the party.  Four coming through on top, and a whole lot of swelling on the bottom.  We're down to bottles only before naps and bedtime, and definitely a fine case of separation anxiety.  Hello Toddlerville!

Separation anxiety, that is, unless we're talking about spending four hours in Barnes & Noble.  Then there is no fear at all associated with getting lost, or left, or possibly kicked out for destroying the entire children's section.  Twice.  Then it is all about running away.  And being chased.

(And why, you ask, are we spending four hours in a book store?) 

Reeeeeee!

If you've not been reading the Pioneer Woman for all of these blogging years, you're missing out on something big.  Go, and start with the Black Heels saga.  You'll thank me later.  (I've been both amazed and appalled at the number of people who've not known to squeal with me when I mention this book signing.  People, are you living under a rock??)  

(I didn't mean to insult you.  We've not visited with each other in a couple weeks.  Take me back.)

One of PW's stops on her Griswold Family Book Tour was a close-enough Chicago suburb, which Kevin's aunt and I were all over like white on rice, I tell you, having read her from some of her earliest entries. 

I was a bit sad when I didn't make it to this past summer's BlogHer conference, knowing that Ree would be speaking...and later learning from a few of my blogger pals-in-attendance that Marlboro Man, too, was there.

And, well...

Neener-neener-neener!

I KNOW!

What a fun evening, and truly, what a great family. 

Back at our own homestead, deciding to enjoy every last moment of chilly, not-yet-cold weather, KJ and Jackson have been spending quite a bit of time on their bikes.  And wouldn't you know, though I worried at times it might never happen, my seven year old has taken to two wheels! 

For sure, with all of the milestones our crew has been hitting lately, and with the quick approach of Jack's fourth birthday, I am feeling life pass in the blink of an eye these days. 

...Making me even more grateful to have this unique opportunity, to not only stay home with my children, but to fully participate in each of their educations.

 

Three months into the school year, we've got our routine down pretty well.  We've switched up some things that were not working, and a few workbooks, too, and we're learning how to manage time and stay motivated, and focused.  I am forever glad to look back, even at what we'd done three months ago, to see what progress has been made with each of the kids.  I continue to stand by my original plan, to homeschool year-by-year, for as long as it works for each child, and I'm open to where that takes us.

(I have every good intention for writing an entire post dedicated to the nuts and bolts of our schooling, because I definitely don't want this time to get away from me without being documented.  ...Just not at half past midnight, eh?)

So now with one Thanksgiving down, and two more left to go, I am thankful to be back to the blogosphere, and I promise not to go far, for long, any time soon. 

(Which is code for, Hey! how about an abrupt ending?!  I need to be up in five hours and my eyes are crossing after yet another busy weekend, but if I don't post this now, as non-sensical and jumpy as it is becoming, it may be another week.  By then, with all three Thanksgivings under my readjusted belt, and a perfectly trimmed Christmas tree!  Heh.)

The Life List

It is no real secret that I am quite goal oriented.  I've spent the last three years overhauling the very essence of my self, searching for truth and learning to embrace with gratitude each of my experiences, good or bad, for how it can mold me.  In 2007 I started a list of goals for my life- one hundred of them because I like nice, even numbers.  As things go, I became busy and my list was shelved and briefly forgotten. 

Then in mid-summer this year I really felt a pull back to my list.  I resumed working on it, asking myself again and again what I really, really wanted to do in my lifetime.  Fairly in touch with my personal callings-- that is, knowing at least what intuitively feels right and not right for myself, I included things that were ridiculously easy but meaningful, and things that possibly would take a bit of effort on my part.  Each item means something to me.  I do not concern myself with when any of it will take place, or how, and I am very open to creating edited drafts should the need arise in years to come.  I'll never back down from a goal because it seems difficult or unreachable. 

I never intended to post my list here, until recently when my girlfriend Bree posted hers on her own blog.  Suddenly it made sense that I, too, could share my own life goals.  The 07's are mixed together with the 09's here, which is why some have been completed and crossed off the list.

My Life List of 100

1. Stand in Times Square, NYC
2. Own both of our vehicles outright
3. Homeschool for as long as possible with each of my children
4. Photograph the Northern Lights of Alaska
5. Go camping as a family
6. Write a book and publish it
7. Pay off my (undergrad) student loans
8. Adopt a child from Africa
9. Then adopt more
10. Get a tattoo
11. Eat raw for seven days

 
12. Make a quilt for Nathan
13. Finish losing weight, and stay there
14. Meet Oprah
15. Take Jack on a real train ride
16. Grow my hair long
17. See Paris, France with Kevin
18. Visit Scotland's Eilean Donan Castle with Kevin
19. Own a laptop
20. Throw myself a girlfriend party with all my best girls
21. Spend a sunny summer afternoon on a boat

 
22. Take the boys to Lego Land
23. Sell our first house for (*) profit
24. Bike ride as a family
25. Donate $10,000
26. Inspire someone
27. Pet an elephant
28. Have a home office
29. Own a nice camera with lenses
30. Lay on a blanket beneath the stars, away from the city lights where they can really be seen

 
31. Cry tears of joy
32. Own a jean jacket
33. Photograph glaciers
34. Be fearless in public
35. Earn my Masters Degree
36. Thank (college professor) for the wonderful, human lessons she taught me about being a teacher
37. Hear the Dalai Lama speak in person, here in the United States or far away where the Tibetan Prayer Flags fly

 
38. Take in the Rocky Moutntains in Colorado
39. Publish a book of photographs I've taken, just for myself
40. Take a writing class
41. Attend Maria Shriver's Women's Conference
42. Make a twirling skirt for Marin
43. Photograph Marin in her twirling skirt
44. Tour the Eastern Seaboard in Peak Fall
45. See a Broadway show
46. Attend a Notre Dame game as a family
47. Learn to meditate
48. Drink a beer in a Boston bar
49. Live in my perfect house, detailed with beautiful baseboards, oversized windows and a library, surrounded by tall trees
50. Feel truest peace in my heart
51. Learn to play the accoustic guitar
52. Spend a weekend in Las Vegas

 
53. Complete a Breast Cancer walk for my Aunt Kathy 
54. Be a keynote speaker
55. Start my own charity
56. Befriend my daughter(s)
57. Buy a Thomas the Tank Engine table for the boys
58. Attend a spiritual seminar at The Omega Institute
59. Run a 5K
60. Own two-inch heels and wear 'em proud
61. Attend the religious services/places of worship for twenty faiths (As of late 2009, Catholic, Lutheran, Episcopal, Baha'i)

 
62. Enjoy fine dining
63. Catch fireflies with my kids
64. Be humble
65. Host an incredible Christmas party
66. Attend a tent revival
67. Own stainless steel appliances
68. Open my own retirement account
69. Rock my sister's baby
70. Attend a week-long silent retreat
71. Indulge my African connection
72. Earn my PhD
73. Teach my children to swim
74. Go RVing! with Kevin
75. Make my own summer dress
 
76. Cross and photograph the Brooklyn Bridge in NY, Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, Perrine Bridge in Idaho, Royal Gorge Bridge in Colorado, George Washington Bridge in NY/NJ, Mackinac Bridge in Michigan, Tower Bridge in London and Pont de Normandie in France
77. See a panda bear in person
78. Take my children on an airplane flight
79. Give excellent advice
80. Go horseback riding (as an adult)
81. Meet my dearest Internet friends
82. Habitually give meaningful gifts

 
83. Own a Mercedes Benz
84. Make bracelets for each of my girlfriends
85. Wear braided hair
86. Author an important essay
87. Own a piano
88. Paint on canvas and display it at home
89. Send my children to college, and others too
90. Ride a camel
91. Write an important letter
92. Hatch chicks with KJ
93. See the Vatican in Rome, Italy
94. Set foot in all Fifty States together with Kevin (as of late 2009, 24 of 50)
95. See the Argentine Patagonia
96. Grow a large back yard vegetable garden
97. Eat a fancy cupcake in a charming little cupcake shop
98. Visit Holland, MI in peak tulip season
99. Become a grandmother
100. Serve Thanksgiving dinner to a long, festive table of my favorite guests

Last Of...

So I couldn't help but squeeze every last drop out of this fall. 

If there were six leaves left on the trees, I was going to find them.

In fact, one of the things we've been learning about in homeschool is how plants and trees make food via photosynthesis...which totally called for an afternoon at our favorite zoo, where many different trees are labeled by type. 

Surprise!  I exist in these outings!

We drew pictures, recorded information and made leaf rubbings in our journals.  Then some Canadian Geese came by for a visit, smelling our Teddy Grahams.

Which was the greatest thing that could have ever happened to KJ, whose current obsession is the 1996 movie Fly Away Home.  He's spent weeks now, trying to convince Kevin and I that we must buy a new house (because we totally need three) and soon.  A country house, where we can raise geese.  He wants to teach them to fly South.  Build a plane, teach them to follow his calls.  We've borrowed the movie from our library so many times in the last month I believe they may gift it to our family for Christmas.  Maybe they can use all of our recent Canadian Geese paintings as wrapping paper.

Possibly the blessing in disguise was when he realized that these creatures are more like our pesky, begging German Shepherd than amazing call-answering companions.  Once they got a small nibble of Teddy Graham, they followed us everywhere, snapping at our legs and honking their fool heads off.

Now we mostly like to watch them in the sky.

For Halloween this year, I decided the only way it could be was to head back over to our old neighborhood, where the oaks and maples stand hundreds of years tall, decorating all lawns and sidewalks with yellow-orange leaves.  We've trick-or-treated the last two years in our (newly constructed) (treeless) (sad) subdivision, and I really needed Fall for Halloween. 

Lucky for me, my crew is happy to walk wherever free chocolate is available.

The Three Amigos-- Batman, a Kangaroo with her Joey, and Luke Skywalker, very specifically dressed in all in black, no cape, just like Luke in Return of the Jedi.  I wish that child wasn't so general with his requests.  Heh heh.

It was such an incredible fall this year. 

I would really hate to see it go, if not for something quite wonderful in itself, right around the corner.

The one that didn't get away

I think I've written twelve, or possibly fifty posts about Marin in my head recently, attempting to stay atop her babyhood since, let's face it, there'll be no baby book as it flies by.  Unfortunately, for much the same reason there's yet to be a baby book (which is: Because I Can Barely Keep Up With The Baby) it has been difficult to grab a moment or three to blog about this girl.

Except for now, because It Must Happen. 

So let us speak about Babies and Kitchens, for a moment, shall we?

Wait.

Let us speak honestly about babies and kitchens...

Aah, now that's better. 

No, no, please, don't bother picking anything up.  She will just pull it all right back out and then you'll weep.  Might as well just step over it.  Or, kick it!  Like the boys do! 

...And ask me to wash it before you eat off of it. 

...And unpile the trash and recycle can pile if you really need to throw something away. 

...Or whine, if you're the dog and cannot reach your food and water dishes wayyy up there on the counter from three hours ago.

And please for the love of all things holy, keep the dishwasher closed and the handle at the halfway point between open and closed or she'll either turn it on or open the door and climb right in, heading first for the very sharpest object available. 

Who, me?

I love this baby.

Initially I fought the power, trying cabinet locks that didn't hold, and using the old fashioned "No!" as she yanked the blender, chopper and serving dishes galore from down under.  

Then I grew a brain and filled the end cabinet with all things plastic, and made her happy.

What the hell is this metal baking sheet doing in here?  Clearly my mother cannot sort.

Be gone from my sight!

Hey look!  A brother!

A Duplo-yielding brother, at that!

Behold my angelic baby innocence, and keep it in the forefront of thou mind.

You know what these Duplos are good for? 

Only one thing...

 
Breaking! 

Then throw 'em down on the floor, right at his feet.

Once you're a safe distance away, tease him like crazy.  

Tell him you're going to throw a giant plastic useless cake thing at him, and that for sure will distract him enough. 

He will start to chase you, and that will give you the perfect chance to dart over and...

...take down the next tower. 

Heh heh heh.

Smash!

This four minutes of household destruction brought to you by...my stripey chip and dip plate.  May it make it through the storms, someday to see more than just toddler feet again.  

Typical Party Attire

Happy Halloween! 

Stuff of Life

Yesterday was my ninth wedding anniversary. 

It didn't make my blog, but I didn't forget.  In fact, I spent most of the afternoon making Kevin one of those fabulously sappy videos I am notorious for, only to have it disappear into thin air juuust before I saved the finished product. 

Thankfully, he was able to console himself with the twelve string guitar I bought for him. 

(Wife of the year?  Check.)

*

My friend Breain has inspired me to start running.  So far, I love it. 

*

Earlier this month, lost in the thick of homeschool, laundry and long fall walks, I met with a new doctor concerning the state of my reproductive organs; to tumor or not to tumor.

Not to tumor, my kind new doctor tells me, and probably not even the ovarian cancer before long, as had been predicted last year by my previous physician.  Not really the need for tests every couple months now that we are past one year, and not really the need to worry about what monsters, in the form of really bad news, could be lurking around the corner anymore.  Many people have something like this, and then never again, she says.

Having buried my aunt just a few months ago, after her tough battle with breast cancer, knowing what she went through and how it ended, my second opinion sort of sounds like a new lease on life-- Raise your family, write your book, adopt your African babies.  You're okay now.

Beautiful relief.

*

I recently finished another quilt.  It is perfect, just like sweet little boy I made it for.

*

My husband works in a tall building in downtown Chicago, and on his walk to and from there every day, he encounters many homeless people. 

He often gives them dollars from his wallet, and sometimes we buy a handful of gift cards to cover a couple meals each, and he hands them out.  He stops all the time to ask people how they are and if they need anything that he can help with.  He has a friend that we pack the occasional bag for, with clothing and toiletries, and he sometimes brings him dinner late at night, on his way back to the train.  Recently he bought another man dinner, and stayed to sit across the table from him as he ate, listening to the man tell his story of how he ended up on the streets.

I won the husband lottery.

*

My oldest child, who I brought home for first grade because he is a brilliant little boy, who I committed myself to educating in the most hands-on ways by running with his best curiosities, who has finished his first grade math book in the first eight weeks of school and nearly all of spelling, who I love with my whole heart and soul, is showing strong signs of Attention Deficit Disorder.  My instincts tell me so, as does everything I know from being a licensed special education teacher, but I will wait on the official word from a child psychologist down the road.

Add to the list of ten thousand reasons why we homeschool, because I am the teacher who will stop at nothing to ensure his success.

*

My children somehow each ended up with two or three Halloween costumes apiece this year.  I can hardly figure how there grew so many, but we've had great fun with it so far.  Turns out everyone loves Batman in Target, and a baby pumpkin at the library.

*

On my way home late this evening, with my three children asleep in their car seats, I witnessed a high speed police chase.  The vehicle being pursued was driving at least seventy miles per hour on a four-lane street through town, headed East.  I was headed West, and while nearing a red light I realized in great horror that the car approaching the red light on the other side, with the flashing red and blue on its tail, was going to blow through the intersection. 

He did.  He smashed into a truck, sending it skidding to the other side the road, and then he veered across the median into oncoming traffic for a moment, where mine was the first vehicle approaching the red light.  Had I been a second or two earlier, actually stopped there, he would have hit my car head on. 

He skidded back into his own lane again and hit the gas.  A minute later the hood of his car flew up to cover his windshield, and the chase came to an end.  The light turned green and I continued towards home with my intestines quivering and every hair on the back of my neck standing up, thankful for only a close call.

*

All is well.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Beautiful boy.

Back in the long, drawn-out fall of 2005, when I was at my heaviest weight ever and pregnant with my second son, I spent months of worrisome time on bed rest, trying to keep my blood pressure down and my contractions quiet, attempting to keep my growing baby inside until it was time.  Or at least, closer to time. 

I was due to have Jack in February, and knew there would be trouble when by October my blood pressure began to rise with each doctor visit.  I began having contractions on and off in November, still three months too early, and by December I was admitted to the hospital, undergoing repeated ultrasounds and preemie lung steroids, laying perfectly still so as to require my body to put all of its efforts into growing and sustaining my baby for as long as possible.  And week by week we celebrated further development, better hopes for breathing and ounces of weight gain for the baby. 

Spending a good part of that Christmas season in the hospital, I had a good deal of quiet time to read and think, which is imaginably less than the norm, being mom to an active three year old at home. During one of my stays I brought with me Raising Boys (choosing the book because, yes, the obvious title, but also because back then I was feeling quite romantic about the whole idea of raising two adorable little boys just like those on the cover of the book, who stood perfectly still and quiet for pictures.)  (Act of God.)  One of the nurses I'd gotten to know, who had raised three boys of her own, gave me a knowing laugh, and even called over another nurse to point out my book when she noticed what I was reading.  And together they gave me the "just wait and see" speech from atop their collective male-raising soap box. 

I, of course, at the time with just one three year old child, understood the penchant for climbing and noise, and pummeling his father on the living room floor at every opportunity, but I'd not yet raised boys.  Boys who had been influenced by the world outside and had each other to try it out on; who would enjoy tackling each other almost as much as they do their father, and who care nothing for clothing or washing but everything about guitar solos, and constructing the absolute tallest towers and subsequently crashing them to the ground.  In the noisiest ways possible, of course, followed by the most ear drum-splitting cheers. 

So I was still a fairly new mom, all things considered, and still believed all things child-raising to be mostly within my control (clearly only three pages into the book.) I told myself that MY boys would not grow up all crazy and loud like what the nurses had described.  It was all in the upbringing, I told myself. 

Jackson was born on January 1st, the New Years Baby at our hospital, weighing a tiny four pounds but with all the fight in the world.  He breathed on his own even as premature as he was, and he ended up needing only a little special care. 

I was unable to finish reading my book.

Fast forward four years to where I am a mother of three, now, and cannot seem to find those original parenting ideas anywhere, as they're probably buried beneath a stack of Autobot drawings, junk mail and homeschool workbooks, stuck to the bottom of a painted page that was thrown in the pile before the largest glops of paint had completely dried. 

Earlier this week I was sharing an afternoon at the park with a mom-friend of mine, who is raising five and two year old boys, and we casually shared our chaos-containing stories like they were completely normal, because by now they are, and we both love them dearly.  Our boys darted around, climbing up the slides and hopping down from too-tall platforms, blasting each other with pretend weapons, yelling at the tops of their lungs and yielding sticks.  I was once a little nervous to raise all of this, infinitely less familiar than my husband with the need for motion, guns and bad guys, as I grew up a girl.  Not a girly-girl, but a bit more subdued, nonetheless.  (Verified by another friend of mine as we discussed it just this morning over coffee and children playing everywhere, that no, not so much with the little girls and the blasting each other.  You?  Same experience?)  (I digress.)

From the park we then herded our five young children, their parade of scooters and our two large strollers into the back corner booth (because we might be nuts, but we're not crazy) of the close-by Dairy Queen where we showered our crowd with a fun evening of cheeseburgers and chocolate-dipped ice cream cones. 

The floor around our table was a disaster by the end, and our children were covered in ketchup and chocolate- a few of them all the way to the ankles of their already grass-stained jeans.  And they'd managed to paint chocolate goatees on themselves before we noticed, laughing their fool heads off, loudly, of course.

In passing my friend had heard the teenage girls behind the counter discussing our brood-- the moms with the seven little kids (clearly unable to keep count with all of the the excited leaping, hopping and jumping in the back corner...ish) like it was quite the scene.  And when she shared that conversation with me, we both laughed, and I pointed out that ten years ago?  We too would have thought this quite the scene.  And yet now how we adore the scene.

Before I had two little boys, and three children, I had so much to learn.  When it comes to anything with motherhood I am always grateful that God grows us into our roles, and into their ages.  This certainly comes with good reason. 

It wasn't too many years ago that I seriously worried about all of the tackling, noise level and mess with my two guys, and whether it was even normal, or good.  Their relationships with me, our love for each other, so unique and fantastic, and yet no matter what rules I imposed or rewards I offered, only rarely could I acheive the calm I assumed I could bring to my guys with a mom's influence. 

In my earliest days of motherhood I held tightly to the belief that with enough discipline, children would simply behave, and that all of the glares in public could be avoided.  I had yet to grow into my understanding that judgments and nasty looks are, for the most part, adult problems.  Kids are the most free, teaching beings around, happy to be exactly who they are and do whatever comes most natural to them.  It is the grown-ups, who will be the first to tell you they know it all, who impose so many social rules- sometimes for good reason and other times straight from the pit of our own neuroses and insecurities. 

In perfect timing with our chocolate ice cream escapade of two nights ago, I had just finished reading Broken Open by Elizabeth Lesser, another mom of boys.  And in one part of her book she talks about what she calls the Vroom Vroom Gene, where no matter what fair play she had exposed her boys to, in a room of little guys and little girls one will almost always witness a particular group with their dump trucks, going vroom vroom across the floor.  I find it so endearing. (As I do the friend-making, dolly-lovin' witnessed with little girls, though that's for another post.)

I have become so seasoned to the Vroom Vroom Gene over the years, and yet it is all so fresh and new as we venture from babyhood through toddlerhood and preschool-ville, now into the real deal of boyhood in year seven with my oldest.  And I feel myself growing again, with a child ready to pull away from me in ways I didn't expect, who knows more than I imagined and believes he knows even more than that.  Wonderful and terrifying all in the same, as always. 

*

As an aside I need to mention, perfectly fitting as I stopped typing here to eat dinner with my little family, that I spent a good portion of our rainy, chilly afternoon peeling, chopping and seasoning my home-made vegetable soup for tonight's dinner.  I prepared two seperate pots- one with meat for those so inclined, and one with lentils.  All afternoon I boiled and simmered, tasted, added and checked on to ensure a nice dinner for tonight.

Kevin arrived home from work at seven, and as I typed away here, he filled soup bowls and set out spoons.  We finished dinner and just before leaving the dinner table, my three year old announced, "You made the best vegetable soup ever, dad!" 

(And now that I've hit on the boy loyalty, I think we've covered everything.  Heh.)

Mmmmmm

I have a confession to make... 

There is something I've been doing a whole lot of lately.

Like it's my job.

I've invited it to live in my house,

and I've been bathing my children in it.

Sunday drives, Saturday walks, Tuesday afternoon playground beneath the trees.  No matter.

Ohhh the colors.  The Oaks, Maples, Sassafras, Tree of Heaven, you name it. 

The sunlight and the shadows are just different in the fall.  The sky is another shade of blue that is more lovely than usual, and the breeze has this sound and it carries those smells.

Even the water is prettier at this time of year, if that be possible.

These are not the leaves of last year, or the year before.  Each one lived its whole life this past summer and we will not see these particular ones ever again after the yellow, orange and red, and after they fall.  They did not worry if it was too short or long or hot or cool of a summer, or if for sure they would know the way to their new hues when the time arrived.  Or how they would let go of the branches.  And they've turned out absolutely gorgeous, and perfect.  

There are lessons in fall.

Last year we attempted a fall outing or two, being it my favorite time of year, and it was rough.  We had a brand new baby who was neither fond of the car nor bunting nor the cool air.

And just one year later she's joining the rest of the crew, climbing playground equipment as much as I'll allow. 

How did that happen so fast?

I've photographed all of this so many times over the last several years, but I still can't get enough.  If the sun is shining, we are back out, somewhere.

...Sometimes in southern Michigan, evading local law enforcement for photographing a house that neither belongs to myself and my husband, nor, say, anyone else on the planet we know.

(It isn't my fault they've created the perfect autumn porch, right?)

(No, ma'am, I wasn't trying to photograph you.  Just your mums...)

Okay fine, and this secluded beauty too.  But only because I could imagine myself someday living in it.  After buying it, in the most legal ways possible.

(No one was home.  Geez, look at the empty driveway!)

I love you, pumpkin.

Intoxicating, isn't it?

If you need me, you know where to find me.

Only as far from your property line as my zoom lens will reach, if you've got nice foliage.

Or, in the slammer. 

If I'm unlucky.