Rose-colored glasses would be lovely, thanks.

I know one day, I'll look back on these times, this year, this season, with fondness and longing. I'll yearn to hold them in my arms at ages 12, 9 and 5 for just a moment longer. I'll wonder how I ever hoped to speed through these times. My older self will want to slap my current aged face and shout "Pay Attention! This? This daily life of yours? The driving to lessons and practicing multiplication tables and speculating about tedium? This is what matters!! This is what will shape their hearts and lives and personalities. FOCUS, Tracey."

And still I find myself issuing commands instead of repeating nicely. I find myself at the end of my rope with especially one child. The one who loves and plays so exuberantly is equally outrageous in their ability to infuriate me with a disrespectful attitude and responses...

But I am the adult.

Driving home from the zoo yesterday, my knuckles were absolutely white. I continued to bark at them to "Be quiet! Be QUIET!"

"We're just playing! Why does it make you so mad?!?"

One day I'll miss this. One day I'll miss this.

The volume increases. The screaming, laughter, arguments, and, finally, object thrown through the van in gridlock traffic.

I snap like unbaked pasta, scattering my jagged pieces across the family.

"Can't you see me?!? Can't you see how distracting you are?!? Can't you understand that I am AT MY END OF PATIENCE?!?"

Silence.

A shuffle. A giggle. A build-up of noise and, once again, their voices encapsulate me without any escape in sight. No concern for their mother who is attempting to navigate them safely home.

Breathe and relax, Tracey. BREATHE.

Is this how I want them to remember me? The shrieking banshee? The impatient one? Would they ever raise their hands to the camera and shout "I'm here because of my Mom! I love you, Mom!" ? Will they blame me?

Late that night, I wake up to find that I cannot move. What started out as just Pat and I has morphed into a family bed of midnight stragglers. I am literally bound in my place in my bed between the same ones who declare that I am mean and unfair; arms and legs and hands confine me and forgive me.

Why, in this setting, is it so simple to love each other? Why can't I retain the patience during the daylight? Why do they seek me out in the nighttime when I fail so miserably during the day?

Every day, I promise to have more patience. To explain, without yelling, what needs to be accomplished. Every day, I swear to myself that this day WILL BE BETTER. We will communicate and understand each other. The family will reach the nightfall withOUT punishments, threats or tears.

So far, today? I'm not doing so great. But this moment of silence and reflection causes me to want to try again. I can't give up on this. There's no limit to the number of attempts we'll make.

Because my Family? It's all that matters.

Stupid Expanding Pelvis

Is there anything sweeter than this?
Corinne in my wedding dress.
Corinne in my sister's wedding dress.

Awwww....

Where's the picture of ME in my wedding dress? Heh. Apparently, my years of slipping into a fitted size 4 are over. I attempted it, don't get me wrong! It came up and over my hips (as it should! I had a big ball gown. How big could my hips have gotten?) but convincing the zipper that it could extend around the expansion that 3 kids have caused was like convincing Evan that underwear isn't evil.

Aka: No way. No how.
Here. This is me in my wedding dress. Pretend it's 2011, not 1997. Use your imagination! Just make Pat's hair much shorter, give me several streaks of gray (now in a lovely shade of Nice'n Easy Light Brown!), and shove 3 fruits of our loins in the background and you'll get the idea.

A list for today

Things I'm grateful for today:

sleeping through the night
chocolate and jelly beans for breakfast
the dirt that is encrusted between Corinne's toes
screams of happiness OUTside in the Easter sunshine
finishing a good book
a lengthy, bubbly, steamy bath
Evan's 9 year old body curled up on my lap
watching a completely frivolous "girl show" on TLC
driving with the windows down
having 2 out of 3 kids get ready for the day without a fuss
a fresh bottle of hair dye to cover my grays
having hope for positive discoveries
and little girls who take shoes for walks outside...I sure do hope that you all have lists like mine.

Happy Easter and Be Happy...

Had to vs. Get to

This morning I "had to":

bake and frost cupcakes

review the area of a circle with a reluctant 12 year old

assist my daughter in the construction of a get well card for my dad (minor surgery today)

wash 1001 dishes

and figure out how to pay a bill that we had put off.

A phone call can alter everything....

This afternoon, I am remembering how lucky I am to be ABLE TO

be with my kids all day long

breathe in and out without any pain

live for the moment right here, right now.


My dad is recovering and everything is looking good but someone very special to us is having tests and procedures. I am pausing in everything I've considered important lately...

Why I've been absent...

My birthday present from Pat and the kids was a trip to the Kalahari Resort in Wisconsin Dells. It was AWESOME. Especially the Hospitality Suite that Patrick reserved for us...

2 tv's, an eat-at kitchen bar and fancy murphy beds that gave us SO much extra space!
All that extra space was helpful, seeing as how we had 3 kids and a Daddy who decided to contract Strep throat days before we left. He was a trooper, despite being utterly exhausted and unable to swallow more than a few bites at a time...
Pat's strep didn't stop us from enjoying the water park,
Cold Stone Creamery...or the mini golf at the Indoor theme park that is available at Kalahari.
They even convinced me to ride the Ferris Wheel...

I am still not too happy about that decision.

My daughter, the circus acrobat. She convinced me to go through 3 stages of this high wire obstacle course before I bailed and turned back.
Over and over again, she just whipped through that course while I shivered and shook on the ground.
Evan did a few levels too!

When a resort randomly offers you a free poolside cabana? TAKE IT. It rocks.
Another death-defying feat by my 5 year old. In this picture, she is calling back to me, "It's ok, Mommy! You're not going to fall!" Yeah, it's not the FALLING I worried about, it was the smacking into the wall on the way down that had me concerned. Needless to say, she climbed that wall several times. I? Did Not.
4 days of water slides, go-karts, laser tag, rope climbing, rock climbing, mini golf, pizza, ice cream and family togetherness...

And now I need a vacation to recoup.

Stream of Thought

My dishwasher's still broken.

This equates to an extra 45 minutes of standing at the sink every day in order to stay "on top of" the dishes and pans and glasses (so many glasses! How many cups of water can 3 kids drink in 1 day? Seriously! I wash about 20 cups a day. For 5 people!).

And I know I shouldn't bitch about it. I am grateful that I have over 20 glasses and mugs and cups from which my family can drink the plentiful, clean, running water. I am grateful that my kids LIKE water to begin with and not just pop or juice. But do you know how ridiculous I feel, soaping and scrubbing and rinsing 20 glasses that only had water in them to begin with?!?

The tree outside my kitchen window is starting to show signs of spring. Not buds or leaves, but definitely a more... "spring-ish" look to it. Maybe it's all the finches that are hopping around on its branches, searching for the bird feeder that fell off last autumn. Poor finches. Their local hot spot for thistle seed is currently undergoing renovations. It'll probably take us another 2 years to put up a new hanging bag of seed, guys...

All this extra time spent with my arms in the hot foam that only generic dish soap can create causes my mind to wander and ponder; just think about how many hundreds of millions of women who have washed and soaped and scoured their own families' dishes throughout the existence of mankind. It's such a basic chore. So necessary but unloved. Though I'd take standing at the sink, looking out at the frustrated and hungry birds any day over the bending and lifting of loading the damn washer and dryer. We can't even have a clothesline in our subdivision. It goes against the codes that I knew about when we signed the papers, but I wonder if I'd use one if we could? Just having the rule against it makes the idea of hanging the wash out to dry seem... exotic. Can't you just picture me snapping freshly laundered towels and t-shirts as I expertly clip them to a taught line in the gentle breezes? All while my children race about the yard (in slow motion, naturally) with oversized bubble-wands and those ribbons on sticks that you see on the Olympics.

Do they still do the Rhythmic gymnastics? It used to fascinate me...

This is not directed at you, it's that other parent from that other day. Swear to God.

Those signs that say "For Ages 5 - 12" or "Recommended for children over 5" are there for a reason. I'm not saying that you shouldn't allow your 2 year old on the playground. I did it with my kids all the time! I'm also not saying that your kids shouldn't be there. Bring them out! Have a ball. But you cannot, in the same breath, condemn children for being overweight and lazy and then rant and rave over how your toddler isn't safe on the playground because of all of the Obnoxious Big Kids "taking it over." You just can't.

Just wait until your own little guy is a pre-teen. Pre-teen basically equates to Little Kid in a Big Kid body. Same amount of energy and same misconcepts of body space and surroundings but too old for playing make-believe in the backyard. So it's off to the park they go to play Cherry Bomb and Color Tag and Lord knows what else but they all require RUNNING on the equipment. Yes, RUNNING. Can you believe it? American pre-teens RUN.NING. Shouldn't they be playing video games or something?!?

I'm not saying that they shouldn't be looking down when running on the equipment. They should and, actually, they DO! But your little guy is just SO LITTLE that he's bound to get knocked down on the equipment. His balance just isn't capable of climbing those stairs for FIVE YEAR OLDS and holding onto the railing AND withstanding the wind tunnels that the older children create with their PLAY. He will most likely receive the standard playground apology of "Oh! Sorry, man!" as they run to the next game.That is obviously not the BEST apology in the world, but it is what all the kids tend to do. It's kind of the Law of the Playground; Every Man for Himself. Again, if you have a problem with that? Then the playground that is recommended for ages 5 and UP probably isn't the best spot for your child.

Want to help fight childhood obesity? Then encourage them to run around and be wild on the damn playgrounds. That's what they're THERE FOR.

Thirty Five

As I type this, on Saturday morning, I am prepping to attend a surprise party for my husband's best friend who turns 40 on Monday. Nothing makes me feel young and spritely quite like being 5 years younger than your husband and all of his buddies. I highly recommend it to all of you young girls who read my blog (I'm positive that there is a huge following of teens who adore my mommy ramblings but are too shy to comment. It's ok; I know I'm cool with the shizzle and all that jazz.) (See? I can speak like a YOUNGIN'!). If you're looking for a future mate, pick one who will always be older than you are. It gives you time to adjust to each decade before it arrives on your own driver's license.

Yes, it's true. This Sunday morning will be the day that I am officially closer to 40 than 30. As you read this post, I will hopefully be lying in bed, awaiting the return of my dear husband who shall be picking up our kids from their overnight at my parents' house. This age signifies "Adult." I seem to have missed that memo and am frantically scrambling for proof that I AM an adult.

Adult things I do:

1. Stay up as late as I want, whenever I want. So what if I fell asleep at 9 pm in the first few scenes of Star Wars? It was my CHOICE, damnit. See? Adult.

2. Drink coffee and as much as I want, whenever I want. Then again, I've been drinking coffee since I was 12 and all the kids drink Starbucks on their bikes and skateboards so maybe this isn't as mature as I'm pretending it to be. But it's typed out and I'm not deleting Adult Item #2.

3. Tell kids what to do. This is the best and worst aspect of adulthood but one that I do all the freaking time. Getting them to respond and ACT on my orders is a different matter. Still. I tell them what to do a lot. It COUNTS.

4. Ummm.... Attend parties for friends who are 40? That's definitely not something an immature person would do, right?

5. I'm spent. Tapped out on adult stuff and thoroughly bored with this topic, which just goes to show you that I am failing at this Adulthood concept. Whatevs. (See? Young Slang!) I can accept being that 65 year old at the concerts, wearing highly inappropriate clothing and having the 20 year olds thinking I'm cool because I bring an air of maturity to their parties, even though they secretly mock me.
See? I exude maturity. From every pore.

Bring it on, 35.

No joke...

Guess who's 9?

NINE.

(pre-haircut)

Last year of single digits.

(post-haircut)

Old enough to waggle his eyebrows at a girl and call her "the total package."

(back when Pandy Bear was kind of white-ish)

Where does he get that shit?

(always the ladies' man, Evan has adored Corinne since before she was born...)

This is the kid who knows the punch lines to every joke he's ever heard, and is able to deliver them with phenomenal timing.(that is a SUCKER and Daddy's beer...)

Not that I'm always HAPPY with that timing, as they aren't always jokes appropriate for an 8, I mean 9 year old.(first gap... sigh... I do adore holey smiles.)

He sure is a charmer, though....

I love you, funny boy. I am so grateful for every day I am privileged to spend with you.

Happy, Happy Birthday!