Alive and Kicking

I've been so quiet online these past few months... Not for a lack of ideas, just a lack of fully formed paragraphs, fully formed thoughts, and actual energy to complete a sentence.

Do you know how long it took me to write the above?

My pledge to myself is to "just write" again. It's worked before, and I have faith that it will work again. I am committed to filling this blog with literary crap, photo ops, and family fluff.

On that note, look at what I made:

I made a human who can bend into a pretzel, do freaking cartwheels on 4 inches of wood, and throw herself into the air while making it look effortless.

I MADE THIS.

I'm like a magician.

 Corinne is having a fantastic second season in competitive gymnastics, and continues to improve her scores, place high in her age bracket, and do it all with a positive attitude. I honestly don't know how we got so lucky to be her parents.

Speaking of being lucky, this year's visit to the tree farm in Leland, IL was everything I had hoped! All of us drove the 40 minutes to Indian Creek Tree Farm (including the teenager! Who was happy and enjoyed/moderately tolerated the family bonding!) and picked out the most gorgeous tree. People were happy, nobody cried, and it was just like Christmas Vacation, but without frozen hips or eyeballs and we remembered a saw (that the farm provides. But still).

It should be noted that, despite my convincing "lumberjack pose," no actual tree was cut by me. It was very muddy and I was wearing my nice jeans. Patrick and Corinne gracefully took one for the team.

Just mere moments before we slaughtered our fir tree. Awwww.... Memories.

Evan was with us, but kept doing a sneaky-secret agent-photo blur thing.

She still likes to put on the tree skirt and dance around...

Corinne in 2009, age 4. How is it going by so quickly?

Stream of Thought Thursday

Hey there.

How's things?

The days have flown by just as they have dragged. This "Polar Vortex" thing has certainly lived up to its name and caused some serious issues with my own space-time continuim. I've been wrapped up in the frigid cold with all 3 in the house (which also = "no school work" for the younger two. Have you ever tried teaching 2 kids while everyone else in the region is off of school? Yeah...no). I've literally been WRAPPED.UP. In blankets of both ordinary and electric varieties, extra socks and constantly reheated cups of coffee. I've been wrapped up in the details of finding the money for not one but TWO vehicles to get heaters repaired. And to top it all off, the emotional turmoil of reading the heartfelt words from hopeful submissions for the Listen To Your Mother Show has been a roller coaster.

I have compared the production of the show to pregnancy and childbirth before. It is never more similar than this year, our third year, when we are no longer first-timers or even just returning for a second go-around. With the third show, as with my third child, I knew ALL TOO WELL what I was getting into. I didn't have a fuzzy recollection of childbirth; it was CLEAR in my mind. There were no surprises with my third pregnancy-the pains, nausea, anxiety... I went into that pregnancy with my eyes wide open.

I think that this is why I feel so differently this year. I am JUST as excited and JUST as hopeful for the stories to be told. But I know, without a doubt, that for every squeal of joy over being chosen for auditions or the cast, there will be many more tears and feelings of rejection... And there's nothing I can do about that. No matter how we word it, telling someone they haven't been chosen is still a "No." It's still painful.

Maybe producers who cast shows all the time think we take it too personally. It's possible. Probable, actually. But I think it speaks of our integrity when we say that we honestly discuss each and every piece and what it means not only to the show, but also to the writer. We all just want to be heard. To be validated.

Sigh... There isn't enough coffee in the world to alleviate this pain in my head today. I am at least glad that I get to drive through the potential incoming blizzard to Wisconsin this weekend (with a working heater in my van! Woot! Woot!). Corinne has a gymnastics meet and we will be staying overnight to slide around in bathing suits. In February. In WISCONSIN. Makes perfect sense. But it will be a huge distraction for my mind. The upcoming month includes about 2.5 days of inactivity. You read that correctly. There are literally only two and a half days in February where I am not shuttling someone somewhere/working on the show/entertaining/etc. It is going to be so awesome.

Silver linings: My family is healthy. We finally have heated vehicles. I don't have to do the show alone (I love Melisa).90% of the incoming month's activities actually are enjoyable. For all of that and much more, I am grateful. And with that, I am off to teach and pack bags and find socks and be happy.

Sometimes, they really amaze me

So, that happened. My kid, in her first meet ever, got a first on vault, a first on bars, a third on beam, 7th on floor and First for ALL AROUND in her level/age group. Did I mention it was her first meet? Do you think that Patrick and I were kind of high for the entire day, riding off of her joy and our pride?

I was all prepped for the post-meet "It's ok that you didn't score in the top places! This is what makes you a better athlete! It's all about having fun and trying your best!" I was not prepared for the opposite to happen. I'm not sure why; she generally amazes me with her abilities and dedication and she really DID do really well at the meet. In fact, her entire team did well (her level got first place as a team, too!).

I think I need to stop underestimating my kids. My heart's intentions are to remind them to enjoy themselves, whether they win or lose. My hopes are that when they DO fall (and they will), that they get back up, over and over, and embrace all of the opportunities they can.

But I think I need to also remind them that they CAN be the winners...That it's possible to be encouraging to others while still striving for their own dreams.

This Girl...

The only sounds are the steady hum of the gymnasium's a/c on full force as it desperately attempts to triumph over this sudden and oppressive heat wave. I can see my 7 year old's gymnastics' team through the viewing window and it isn't difficult to spot my own child in the sea of flipping girls. Her green and orange tie-dyed leotard screams for attention. She is so... strong. Hours and hours of dedicated physical work have transformed my baby girl into an Athlete with a capital "A." Never again will I be able to watch gymnastics during the Olympics without knowing how much time and dedication they have invested... To say nothing of the cost!

She is on the bars now, doing an extremely repetitive drill: pike and swing, pull-up and over, cast and flip and land. And again. And again. AND AGAIN. A break to chalk up her palms... And Again. Small corrections to toes and elbows... And Again.

Wherever her determination comes from, it definitely isn't from me. Wherever her drive and push stems from, it isn't from her Momma. In many ways, I do see myself in her, but I see myself at 37, not 7. When I WAS 7,  no adult outside of my immediate family could have known how blue my eyes were as I didn't want anything to do with them and wouldn't look them in the eye, but this girl? This girl will introduce herself to you and your children and invite you into a conversation so detailed, you would think she was an adult instead of barely out of first grade...

This girl has confidence and curiosity and a fearless quality about her that most adults envy.

I know that I, for one, do.

More Just Write pieces found here...

Would you like some Fries with that?

"What time is it? Holy cow! It's 3:50! Let's go! Let's Go!"

I hate it when we're rushed like that. Now that Corinne has gymnastics at 4:30, twice a week, we are often heading out of our house just as the neighborhood kids are heading home from school. Being that I like to be early and never late, I usually allow extra time for unforseen situations.

"Mommy, are these the only granola bars we have for our snack?" Evan asked as he rummaged through the van while we cruised down the highway. I glanced back and, sure enough, they were the almond bars that he hates, NOT the peanut bars that he likes.

"Damn. I am so sorry, Evan! Ummm... Maybe we can stop at McDonald's really quickly for a dollar menu item, ok?" His face was so bummed. He loves those peanut granola bars and I totally spaced and grabbed Justin's almond box. I cannot be perfect, every moment of every day, folks.

"Welcome to McDonald's. Would you like to try a value meal?"

"No thanks. One sec, please!" stage whisper to the backseat, "Guys, WHAT do you want?!? Come on! We have to hurry and they're waiting!"

They hemmed. They hawed. They drove me up the wall.

"Can I have a McFlurry?"

"Hell no. I am not paying for a McFlurry. You can have a sandwich or a shake. DECIDE."

"Fine, I'll have a vanilla shake, I guess." (Said like I was forcing him to eat dirt.)

"Ok, Corinne. Your turn. Come on, Corinne! Decide!"

"I'd like a Shamrock shake."

"They don't have those anymore."

"Yes they do, Mommy."

"NO, they don't! Pick vanilla or chocolate."

"They DO have Shamrock Shakes!"

"I swear to you, Corinne; the shakes aren't here anymore. They're seasonal. Pick a different flavor!!"

"MomMEEE, they DO have Shamrock shakes!!!! I know because..."

"CORINNE. THEY DO NOT HAVE SHAMROCK SHAKES! PICK VANILLA OR CHOCOLATE OR YOU GET NOTHING!!!"

My vein is pulsing on my forehead. Tears are in her eyes. The tension in the van is high and, just as the crying (mine and hers) was about to begin, the drive-thru speaker crackled to life.

"Excuse me? Ma'am? I'm sorry. I don't mean to interrupt, but, well, we do have Shamrock Shakes."


(Oh. My. God.)

"You're kidding me. Ah,heh, heh. Great...Ah, we'd like a small Shamrock shake, too, please."

The kids are giggling. I am mortified. The cashier doesn't make eye contact with me as I pass her my cash.

It's days like these that I remember how very important it is to carefully pack our snacks.

Once you get past the smell, it's not THAT bad...

I am sitting in the bathroom, precariously balancing my preshus laptop on my legs so that it doesn't touch the less-than-pristine walls of our 3 child bathroom. All I can say about that is "bleecchhh" and "Man, this family needs to learn how to properly clean a bathroom."

Bathroom Blogging is what you may become reduced to when you have a 4 month old puppy who believes you really and truly are her mommy. She will leap with Absolute! Joy! onto your lap when you sit on the comfy couch, regardless of whether or not said Preshus Laptop is already there.

This action will result in a gutteral shriek akin to spilling red wine on your wedding gown.

Aside from the questionable walls and collection of nearly empty hair products, the bathroom isn't such a horrible location for a home office. Running water, good lighting, and easy access to the facilities. Also, biggest bonus, the door has a LOCK. Ka-ching!

Speaking of Ka-ching, do you know how expensive gymnastics can become? Especially when your daughter is something akin to a natural athlete? And when your natural athlete has no fear of heights, new challenges or working up a sweat, did you know that she will be advanced up the ranks of gymnastics' classes quite quickly, hardly giving you time to adjust to the cost of the shorter, easier classes before you are blindly writing checks for the longer, more advanced classes?

Have I mentioned I have space on my sidebar for advertising? Interested? Please? Just look at her! She's unstoppable!

If you can't find me, I'm probably at the gym...

Last night, I had an epiphany. Or a "moment" of some sorts. Something happened in the universe or the air or my digestive system because I could easily see the future...

Yesterday, on her sixth birthday, Corinne had her first gymnastics class.

And folks? It felt... right.

After months, no, YEARS, of begging for gymnastics, we finally consented and signed her up. She is using her birthday money from Grandpa to fund most of the cost, because she's already in 2 dance classes and we have 3 children and that money tree I planted still hasn't produced more than $13 bucks. When she would plead and plead for gymnastics classes, I figured she was just being her usual go-getter-self who wants to try everything under the sun. But when my kindergartener (who totally understands the value of money and how rarely she has so much in her possession) wants to spend her entire birthday check on something? You realize that she is serious.

We were running a bit late, and I had paperwork to fill out, so the secretary walked her back into the gym. I finally eased myself onto the parents' bleachers and had to squint to find her little black leotard in the massive sea of flipping little girls.

And there she was. Stretching her legs beside the other children. Jumping on the trampoline, fingers extended. Flipping over the bars, pointing her toes. Giggling with the girls in line. And looking absolutely at home...

A feeling rushed over me. I swear to God that this has never really happened to me before, but as she raced to me at the end of class, I just knew that I would be spending large quantities of my life sitting on bleachers, cheering her on.

"How was it? Did you like it?"

Sweaty and pink-cheeked, she grinned her toothless smile and nodded. She hugged me till I nearly lost my breath and said,

"It was the Best! Day! EVER!!! When is my next class?!?"