Mother's Day

So yesterday was Mother's Day. It was fun and busy and we barbequed it up in the backyard with family and all. The kids gave me their sweet little projects that they made at school but it didn't really feel like "Mother's Day." I guess because I don't feel like it was a normal day, which I suppose is the whole point, but still... I slept in, Jeff made me breakfast. Jack walked around all day saying "Happy Mommy, Mom!" It was fun and such a treat but this morning I felt more happy being a mom than I did yesterday. This morning as I waved out the window with Jack as Natalie and Carter climbed on the big bus to head to school. It felt more like Mother's Day today when I woke up at 3am to Natalie saying she couldn't sleep and just wanted me, and then again at 4:30am when Jack was trying to climb into our bed without being found out. It felt more like Mother's Day when the milk from cereal got spilled all over the tablecloth and when I was sleepily pouring my coffee as Jack was trying to stand on my feet to "dance." It felt more like Mother's Day as I was stuffing lunches into backpacks, zipping coats, and tying shoes. These are the things I love about being a mom. I revel in the normalness of it all, in the day to day happenings of our home. I loved having everyone over yesterday; eating outside and then coming in when it started to rain, building a fire in the living room as we catch the tail end of a basketball game and chat it up over coffee. I love those things, too, as it was great to get to spend the afternoon with my own mom and grandma but this morning at our crazy house trying to get everyone rushed out the door, as Monday snuck up on us like it usually does, is what it's all about for me. My husband, my kids, my home, my life being a mom. I get to celebrate every single day when I watch my kids literally run into my arms when they get off the bus after school. I get to celebrate when they hug me so tightly right before bed and I make my promise to be right down the hall all night. I really do love Mother's Day but what I love even more is getting to recognize the opportunity to celebrate what an honor it is to be the mother of these amazing children of mine every single day.

Friday Fun Night

I don't know why, but I always tend to start conversations as Jeff is walking out the door for work. It's never super important stuff but as I see him grab his stuff for work and head for the door I panic like if I don't say somthing now I'm not going to have a chance to all day (as if we don't have email, cell phones, etc... well, I guess there's not really "etc."--cell phone and email about cover it). This morning I casually asked him what he wanted to do tonight. It being Friday and me having spent the whole week in the house and all. I always ask this fully expecting him to have some profound idea as to what we could do as a family that would be fun, out of the house, and... well, yeah-- fun and out of the house. That's all of the prerequisites for a Friday evening that I can come up with. Actually, it doesn't even have to be "fun" as most Friday evenings I'd just settle for out of the house. Pretty much I just need motivation to finish the week strong. Get through the day with purpose. By Friday I need more of a reason to shower than just "it's the right thing to do." He knew that yesterday was rough (and not because his "team" is bigger than mine) so he asked me what I wanted to do, to which I answer (as usual) "I dunno" leaving the decision up to him. Apparently this morning he wasn't on his best game because after recognizing that I'm not in the greatest of moods he forgot to start his sentence with "You always feel better when you..." and just said the last half, "Get yourself dolled up today." Nice. Thanks. I feel a little like garbage and now I feel like I look like garbage, too. Okay, I do, but that's beside the point. In his defense though, "dolled up" means dressed and on a good day, a bit of make-up. I don't do dolled up like a lot of girls do. To me it means not wearing sweats and sometimes blow drying my hair.

I finally decide that I'll make dinner and take it out to his parents house for a visit since they've been gone for a few weeks and we haven't seen them since they got back. Fun and out of the house. Meets all the criteria. Suddenly my day has intention. I guess I'll go shower now...

Team Jeff vs. Team Karey

It all started the other day (okay, like 2 weeks ago) when I casually asked Jeff if he was sad. He looked at me and asked, "Why would I be sad?" I say, "I'm just wondering if you're sad that I'm so much funnier than you are. You used to hold the trophy, but it's been taken. And now it's on my shelf. I'm just wondering if you're sad about it. I would be." He no longer looked sad. He raises his eyebrows as if to say, "Oh, we're going there are we?" What he actually said was, "Listen here, grasshopper. I taught you everything you know. It is impossible for you to pass me up. You got that?" I didn't. And I still don't. It came up again last night. Let's just say I was having an "off" night and my sweet wonderful I-like-to-rub-your-face-in-your-non-funny-jokes husband let me know. Again and again. He sort of hit a home run and ran me off the top of humor hill.

The kids were brushing their teeth before bed and Jeff was taking the dog out to go to the bathroom. I sit down and unfold the laptop. My desktop picture was gone, it was all black except for a medium sized square picture in the middle: (under "Dishes" it says, "do them. now.")



I refuse to let him see me laugh so when he comes in I try to look like I'm fuming. I'm not mad about the picture, and I'm certainly not going to do the dishes now, I am mad that he's now one up on me. I literally thought my head was going to explode when he finally stopped laughing long enough to stand right in front of me and hold his hand up making a circle motion with the sound effect of a race car getting passed on the track. Up by two, I want to strangle him. I am not funny when I'm mad (seriously, do you know anyone who is?) so he's pretty much got me all night, and he knows it.

For the next two hours I hear joke after joke (which I refuse to admit were pretty funny) and prank after prank and after each and everyone I hear the race car sound effect which makes him laugh even harder at his own wittiness. At one point we were watching NCIS and one character says to another, "She's funny, beautiful... what's not to love." And I say, "Huh. Sounds an awful lot like me, don't you think?" Apparently I interupted the next line, which Jeff so sweetly rewound for me. It was, "Well, that was 12 years ago. She's had a few kids, so I doubt things are the same." I know. I don't even know how I put up with him. He finished that off with the stupid race car again and I almost went for his jugular.

Finally I decide to call it a night and head to bed. He's in the bathroom brushing his teeth when I crawl into bed and freak out when I find a zhu-zhu pet crawling around under the covers on my side of the bed. From the bedroom I can hear him doing the race car noise one last time.

I'll admit. Last night he had me. Big time. But I told him this morning that I'm going to be making up Team Karey and Team Jeff t-shirts and we'll just see how this turns out. It's so not over.

ps. Katherine, you'd better be proudly sporting Team Karey at work. Someone's gotta represent at BowTech.

Mornings with Jack

After Natalie and Carter get on the bus and Jeff heads to work, it's just Jack and me. The time I get with just him is special. We read stories, color, pretend to make alphabet soup with letter blocks. We both treasure this time. Sometimes (like this morning) I felt like I had a bunch of stuff to get done before the other kids started getting home from school. I had laundry that I was falling behind on, the floors desperately needed to be mopped, and I needed to unload the dishwasher so I could reload the sinkful that were sitting on my counters. My little Jack did not like that he got pushed to the bottom of the list. He started to throw fits as I was rinsing dishes. He threw socks and sweatshirts everywhere as I was trying to gather them for the washer. He ended up sitting on the floor of the kitchen with his legs and arms crossed, brows furrowed with a super sour face. So I stopped. I realized that he just needs me. He needs my time and my attention and he needs it now. I sat down right in front of him, criss-cross-applesauce and looked him in the eyes with my arms open. He ran into them and sort of started to cry. I gently rubbed his back and whispered, "Alright. Mommy's done for now, what do you want?" Fully expecting him to just nuzzle me back and love on me, I was really surprised when he sat up realizing that I'd just asked him what he wanted in a voice that sounded promising. He looked right at me, smiled and confidently (with just a hint of attitude) answered, "I want Daddy!" Figures.

Working Overtime

You ever have one of those days where you wake up and just know the day is going to be a little harder than usual? My first confirmation was when my five year old was trying to get his socks on before school and says, "This S-WORDs!" and I have to go in my seven year old's room to find out that the s-word is "sucks." Not my favorite word, but it could be worse I guess. Then I over hear Natalie tell Carter that she's his "hooker." I keep quiet long enough to find out that she meant that she was holding his coat for him, her hand was the hook and that made her the "hooker." Again, could be worse, but not really something I'm stoked about hearing.

Later I remember that Jeff could be home early (his plane lands at noon and he could come home early from work) so I scramble out to the back yard to pick up all the dog poop that I don't want him to know I was slacking off on while he was gone. Oh, and in the poop I found a marble, gum, and the side mirror to a Barbie car. Not kidding. Next, I find out that while I'm vacuuming the rug in the living room Jack is in the master bathroom "playing" with my earrings. He's pulling all the dangly parts from the hooks that go in my ear. I walk in and see him on the counter and he shrugs his shoulders and goes, "All fixed!" Right. Thanks. Oh, and as I'm pulling Jack off of the counter I glance in the mirror to realize that I have mascara all over the front of my t-shirt. When did this happen? I don't even have any make-up on!?

It's on days like these that I feel like I should get paid over time (or just get paid, period) for having the dishwasher, washing machine and dryer all running at the same time. I should get paid for remembering to make the two year old lunch or taking the dog out to go to the bathroom. I should get paid for showing up at the end of the street when Natalie gets off the bus. I should get a bonus check for finding time to shower... and then I see the three of them together all cuddled up on the bed while Natalie reads a book out loud. They look up at me and as I gaze at those smiles I forget about all the headaches of the day and I realize that I do get paid. I get paid a lot.

Age is just a number... right?

Apparently (according to all the magazines that I will adamantly deny I read if you ask) 40 is the new 25, 30 is the new 20, etc. Pretty much they're saying that as you get older it's fine because "old" is back in. It's the new "young." I don't know. I don't really get it. I'm a good 7 months away from the big 3-0 and I certainly don't feel like I'm turning 20. Hello, I have almost 9 years of marriage and 3 kids under my belt. In my situation I feel more like 30 is the new 35. But whatever. Seems like a bit of a scam to allow people to deny the enjoyment of getting older. Taking away from the priveledge it is to actually get to grow old gracefully.

However, I can't deny that I do agree with all of that to some extent. For us it's the opposite though. "Younger" is the new "older" in our house lately, that's for sure. I've been getting the eye-roll treatment (well it happened once, and unless a certain five year old has a death-wish it won't happen again). Natalie (at the ripe old age of 7) thinks that it is a daily requirement to talk on the phone with at least one of her classmates (which she doesn't) or she just can't call it a day at all. But the one that never ceases to amaze me is Jack. He won't look me in the eye when he knows he's done something wrong. He shrugs his shoulders. Maybe you didn't get that one... He's 2 and he shrugs his shoulders instead of answering with words. It's like his facial expressions combined with his little shoulders going up and down are saying (when his words won't) "I don't really care, Mom. Are you still talking? Seriously. I have blocks to stack right now could you finish up, please?"

I don't know if 40 is the new 25, or if 30 is the new 20, but I do know that 7 is pushing to be the new 17, 5 the new 15, and 2 the new 12 but if I have anything to say about it (and I do) it won't be this way in my house.

Rain

I woke up to the sound of rain this morning. To some, waking up this way might sound like a downer. You know, not waking up to sunshine pouring through the windows; the rays beautifully announcing the beginning of not only a fresh new day, but a new week, especially after the beautiful weekend we had. But I was not bummed when I heard the rain trickling off the roof into a puddle outside our bedroom window. I was thankful. Very thankful. Thankful that because I could hear the rain it meant that I wasn't hearing crying children. Because I could hear the rain I wasn't hearing a whining puppy ready to be let outside. Because I could hear the rain I wasn't hearing the blaring of an alarm clock screaming at me to jolt awake and rush to start my day. Because I could hear the rain I got to watch Jack sleep for a few minutes (he sleeps in my bed when Jeff's gone on trips). But most importantly it is because I heard the rain this morning that I got to lay in bed and listen for God for a few minutes; I got the chance to give him my day before it officially even started. Thank you Lord, for not only the rain, but for the perspective.