A Mom’s Toughest Job

A mom’s toughest job isn’t…..

getting up in the night with a crying infant,

or keeping a teething baby comforted,

or being stuck in a house with sick toddlers,

or settling squabbles and getting everybody to share nicely.

A mom’s hardest task isn’t….

keeping up with the laundry,

or pulling off a fantastic birthday party.

or doing 6th grade math,

or instilling the value of a clean bedroom.

A mom’s most difficult choice isn’t….

which school to send the kids to,

or what clothes are appropriate,

or what time curfew is,

or which friends are a good influence.

A mom’s toughest job,

hardest task

and most difficult choice

is

letting go.

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Here is wisdom for the moms and dads that time has proven true,
The day your children learn to walk, they start to walk away from you.
For at first you hold all of them, cradled safely in your arms,
Then one day their hand is all you hold, and soon it’s just their heart.

Can the sparrow ever learn to fly if the nest is all it knows?
Can the arrow ever reach its mark by remaining in the bow?
You have to let it go.

“Arrow and the Bow” by Steve Chapman

One Little Decision

 red canFunny how one little decision can seem to throw off the universe…

My dear hubby, PB, decided to clean the garage instead of go fishing on his day off.

He decided to clear out all the old red plastic gas containers we had for Y2K…ummm….13 years ago.

He decided to smash them in order to fit them into a big garbage bag.

He decided to jump on a gas can with two feet…

which sent it shooting across the garage floor…

which sent him flying six feet into the air…

which caused him to land on the cement on his left shoulder.

He decided to call me.

I decided to take him to ER.

The doctor decided PB tore his rotator cuff.

We decided it’s a good thing PB isn’t a major league pitcher.

I decided I love him still.

But I kinda wish he had gone fishing.

Four Babies

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This morning my daughter Katie and I thought it would be nice to take a walk around our town square.  We talked about packing up the kids, stopping at the coffee shop, and then strolling into a few of our favorite shops.

But there are four babies at our house.  What were we thinking?

By the time Eli and Ella were fed and dressed, Hudson was getting up.

By the time Hudson was fed and dressed, Eli and Ella were falling asleep in their swings.

Then Charlie needed to nurse.

Somewhere in there, I changed three poopy diapers.

By mid-morning, Hudson was ready for a nap.

Then Eli and Ella woke up and I gave them each a bottle.

When Hudson got up (he didn’t really sleep), Charlie was nodding off in the swing.

Then Eli and Ella spit up, so I changed them into their second outfit of the day.

It wasn’t long before Hudson was hungry for lunch.

About then, Charlie woke up and just wanted to be held.

Eli rolled over onto his stomach and couldn’t get back over, so he cried.

Ella rolled over and smacked Eli, so he cried louder.

Then I changed some more diapers.

After lunch, Hudson really needed a nap because he didn’t actually sleep before.

Then Dan, Anna, Kelsey, Sam and PB walked in and played with the babies.

Katie and I took a nap.

Maybe we’ll try again tomorrow.  Maybe not.

How many chances will I get to hold four babies in one morning?

An iced caramel vanilla latte topped with whipped cream and a drizzle of caramel syrup can’t compare.

Not even close.

Good Old Days

When our four kids get together, their conversation eventually comes around to reminiscing about the bad good-old-days.

  Like…

“Remember when mom dressed us in look-alike sailor outfits?”

Or…

“Remember when dad wouldn’t let me leave the supper table until I could spell the word c-h-i-c-k-e-n?”

Why, oh why, do they recall with such fondness the moments I would most like to forget?  It’s amazing they turned out so well after being exposed to such limited parenting skills.

Funny how I remember very different things: reading books out loud all afternoon, singing songs in the car, staring at their eyelashes as they drifted off to sleep.  Now, those were the good good-old-days.

Grandparenting is a chance to have a re-do.

I hereby vow to never dress my grands in matching outfits.

PB promises to refrain from drilling important words into their little minds.

Today, we get the chance to create great good-old-days.  Let’s go!

First, we’ll squirt water into cups in the backyard.

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Then we’ll go to the park….

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and play in the water….

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and the bubbling fountain.

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Then we’ll have some lunch, but keep the McNuggets away from Opa.

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We’ll read a book…

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and have a tickle….

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then take a nap.

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It’ll be a great day.

Meet Charlie

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May I introduce you?

Everybody, meet Charlie.

Charlie, say “hi”!

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He’s a honey.

How many times can one Nonnie fall in love?

Apparently over and over.

Although I’m here to help my daughter and her husband keep the household intact during this transition to a family of four, it’s clear that my main function is to be Hud Bud’s buddy.  Today, I woke up extra early so I could jump in the shower and get my make up on before Hudson woke up.  I sure didn’t want to scare the little guy.

We had a great morning.  We played with toys, we tickled and laughed, we sang “Twinkle, Twinkle” dozens of times, and read the first page of ten different books.  We went outside, picked up rocks, and tried not to get all wet in the sprinkler.  I had a blast.  By then it was 7:30 a.m.  I could have kept it up for at least another couple of hours, but a trip to the farmer’s market sounded like fun, so we packed up the diaper bag and took off.

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There was lots of beautiful produce….

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and delectable baked goods…..

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Someone was handing out suckers as we strolled along.

Hudson has never had a sucker.

Big brothers should have some privileges, that’s what I say.

There’s got to be some perks,

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Hud Bud knew instinctively what to do.

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He really liked it.

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Dad, you’ve been holding out on me for 18 months.

Thank goodness Nonnie came.

My Royal Grandson

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Kate is going to have her baby soon, and  I’m not talking about the Duchess of Cambridge.

I’m referring to my daughter, Katie, who happens to have the same due date as the other Kate.

I expect thousands will be gathering outside the English hospital to await the royal news.

PB and I will be gathering by the phone, waiting for word from out west that the baby has arrived.

I suppose there will be great rejoicing in the streets of London when the church bells ring out.

PB and I will do a dance right in our living room, with peals of laughter and cries of joy.

I’m sure the regal birth announcement will be all over the TV and internet for the world to hear.

PB and I will be calling and texting and tweeting and facebooking our little corner of the world.

I presume there will be 101 gun salutes heard across the English countryside.

PB and I may set off a few left-over firecrackers in the backyard in honor of our new baby boy.

Little man, you may share a birthday with a prince or princess, but you aren’t in anyone’s shadow.

You aren’t the first-born, you aren’t the first-grand, you aren’t a twin.

You are different from all the rest — may your light shine.  Soon.

“But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.”  1 Peter 2:9

Paving Paradise

What with VBS and a visit from the twinsies, I’ve been a little distracted lately.

Then PB kidnapped me and we gallavanted all over southern Wisconsin for a few days.

This morning I took our dog, Bo, for a walk around the block.

The landscape had changed.  We were shocked to see this:

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And this:

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And this and this and this:

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Bo and I couldn’t believe our eyes.

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I kept saying, “What happened here?”

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And here?

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Did a tornado rip through this one block?

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Did a disease devastate these old shade trees?

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Bo didn’t have any answers.

But the little flags and skinny sticks did.

It seems we’re paving paradise with sidewalks.

On a dead-end street.

Are these beauties next?  It seems so.

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Is our street also on the chopping block?

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Lord, have mercy.

“They took all the trees and put ’em in a tree museum.

And they charge the people a dollar and a half to see ’em.

Don’t it always seem to go,

That you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.

They paved paradise and put up a…..”*

sidewalk.

*Big Yellow Taxi lyrics