Menu

Grace

dave_sara

It’s Been a Year… And a Half

, , ,

Tonight was an impromptu date night. And for having a 7, 5, 3 and 1 year old… that’s a pretty hefty feat we pulled off.

It was also special because it was the first night we had gone out, by ourselves IN A YEAR AND A HALF.

Man, it’s been awhile. Part of that is situational (having a nursing baby doesn’t mean nights are optimal for just taking off) and part of it is circumstantial due to the ongoing pandemic. And part of it is simply logistical: Who in their right mind would walk into that scenario and watch four lively kids ages 1-7?

Our intrepid babysitter, Kathy. That’s who. And no, you may not have her number. Or her whereabouts. Her name isn’t really Kathy either. She’s far too valuable to disclose any other information. She handles our kids like a boss.

I had her come over tonight at 4PM. She took all four kids to the park with a picnic I had prepared. Dave walked in at 5 PM from work, which is extremely early for him on a work weekend. He saw me cleaning the second they left and he jumped in on it too. No one is more motivated than a parent when the kids are all out of the house.

I didn’t expect Dave to be home… I was just hoping to get some respite with a babysitter. So we cleaned our brains out until the kids came home around 7. Then we jumped in the shower, threw on some decent clothes and sneaked out the back door like a couple of teenagers.

We hopped in the trusty Honda and left the Pathfinder to Kathy in case of the zombie apocalypse and she needed to make a hasty getaway.

We headed to our favorite restaurant and sat out on the back patio enjoying the perfect Arizona weather. We marveled at the insanity of this year and made a list of the things that went down:

  • Had a “surprise” daughter
  • Welcomed two more darling baby girls into our family via my brothers (yes, that’s 3 baby girls in one year)
  • Did a lot of not sleeping
  • Navigated “online school” with a kindergartner and a first-grader and a three-year-old running around and a nursing 2-month-old baby
  • Had all children home all of the time until actual real school started and I cried with relief
  • Got used to wearing masks everywhere (not really, I hate them)
  • Dave saw waves of patients struggling with an awful virus
  • Dodged the corona virus like a bad game of frogger on the Commodore 64
  • Vaccinated against said virus and that was plenty not fun
  • Changed property management companies for our rental properties
  • Designed and built a deck in Sedona
  • Paid for two air conditioning units that went out at two separate addresses at the same time
  • Got into some debt and worked hard to pay off that debt
  • Refinanced five different properties when interest rates hit rock bottom
  • Watched our kids’ language program at school get axed and decided on a new school
  • Started a publishing company as I ventured into a new career

We talked business about some things we needed to think about and dates we needed to nail down, but it was always interspersed with our signature banter and I thought to myself “a date out with this guy is pretty much like being at home, we’re just interrupted WAY less.” I just love him and love how we’ve grown together. I have learned to depend on him more, and take my defenses down faster. I love how we can challenge each other and sharpen each other and then turn around and snuggle up when one is feeling tired or down or insecure or any other fill-in-the-blank that’s going on.

We survived this year and none of it would possible without God. Who helps us with perspective. Who helps us feel safe. Who gives us assurance that the next minute is not ours to worry about. Who holds our family and kids in His capable hands. After a year like this, my eyes are more tuned to look for those hands reaching out for me like my little daughter throws her hands up for me to lift her and hug her tight.

We walked into the blissfully quiet house after our date. Boys asleep? Check. Baby asleep? Also, check. We said goodbye to Kathy, locked the door, turned out the lights and called it a night; thankful for the opportunity to feel normal again for a few hours. And hoping the next time will be sooner than a year and a half.

#momlifewins #postpandemicworld #latenightdatenight #momanddadtime #momanddadlove #feelingnormal #babysitteroftheyear #bedtimestories #adultinglikeaboss #adultingwin #adultingatitsfinest #kidsareasleep #dateyourspouse #itsbeenalongyear #wemadeitoutalive #strongertogether #strongertogether💪  #lovethisman #lovethisman❤️ #kidfreenight #thankyoulordforeverything💕  #thelordisgood #latenightwriting 

vax1

The Mutation Vaccination

, , ,

I’m going to let you guys in on a little secret. When I write, I am not always in front of a keyboard. For example, I am now on vacation on a beautiful island in the Caribbean. It’s a balmy 85° out and I have a glass of iced tea next to me. There are no children present, in fact, I am all alone.

Just kidding. Raise your hand if you knew that was a blatant lie. I’m actually in the car driving myself to a stupidly late appointment (10PM) for my second vaccine shot. But I’m still alone, save for you and my AirPods. These little beauties come in handy because I can speak and do voice to text. They help me make use of my stolen moments. They’re the moments I steal for me/you and to recharge my creativity. I found that the more I feed the creative beast the bigger it gets and the faster it runs.
And when I’m left alone with a few minutes and a wandering imagination, the results can be meteoric. I never know what might actually come out of the nib of my pen or the click of my keyboard. …And I also kid about the “pen” comment. My actual handwriting is horrific… but I can type like the wind.
Speaking of beasts, what would happen if this vaccine actually turned me into a mutant? What kind of powers what I have? Would they be powers to better all of humanity or maybe just my immediate situation? Would they be random, or would they complement my natural gifts and abilities? Would they be used to make things happen to other people, or would they be internal and projected outward?
I’ll be honest: saving all of humanity sounds really really tiring, especially given my current situation. Staying awake during the day is a super power in and of itself. So I’m going to start with superpowers that can influence my tiny little locus of control: the Lilliputians, the leprechauns and alllll of the little people.

ALL the Eyes On Me

I’m going to need four sets of eyes. That’s eight eyes. Back of my head, top of my head, maybe the tops of my feet, just to have a different perspective. The current situation is not working for me. I have FAR too many blind spots. They’re getting a leg up on me. Legs, arms, heads, hands & feet… I cannot seem to put a stop to what I should before it actually happens.

Swole Like the Hulk

I am definitely going to need hulk-like strength minus the green skin. Doing a fireman’s carry for a fit-throwing toddler at 43 is taking its toll on this old lady’s body. Although, like the green guy, you do NOT want to make this mama mad. It takes a lot to get me riled, but when I do, you’d better go fetch me a new wardrobe because I will legit break some seams and pop some buttons. And a few veins too.

An Elephant Never Forgets

I will need total recall, of course. Just to keep track of all of the scheduling is a minor miracle. Then… THEN (here’s the kicker) I want to remember every detail of every conversation I’ve ever had. So when the husband and children INSIST they told me something, I can just shrug and say “Superpower. Duh.”

Hot Tub Time Machine

I will definitely need to travel back in time to prevent the spilled milk, the broken lamp, the cat puke: all the things that make me crazy in the middle of my day. And my vehicle of choice? Why, a hot tub, of course. This aching body isn’t getting any younger and a dip in the old tub from point A to point B will be just the thing to keep me running smoothly.

Door Dash

Guys… I need to be fast. No, no no. Faster than Lin on the high school track team fast. That was slow in comparison. Faster than when TJ ran out into the street and I was in my skivvies? Nope. Even faster. I need to be a blur for one main reason: to do all the things, of course in a 24-hour period. Pick up, make dinner, mom the heck out of the kids, take the them to all the things. Be all the things. Run all the things.
As I pulled up in the line, it was my turn. The NP stuck me good and depressed the syringe. I winced.
“Oh, that stung a little bit, huh?”
I looked straight at him. “I am on vacation right now, do not disturb my zen.”
I waited in the exit line and I thought again about the superpowers. Remember in Spider Man? “With great power, comes great responsibility.” Oh man. I already have a lot of responsibility. So much responsibility. I don’t need anymore. Besides, my ace in the hole is a God who finds me not just good enough, but brilliant and wonderful and he’s proud of me, just as I am. Inhale truth. Exhale grace.
When I walked through the door, the house was quiet and the people were asleep. I decided to adjust my expectations and leave the mutant powers in the car. Coming home to my mutant crew responsibility was more than enough for tonight.
#levelup #levelupyourlife #levelupjourney #momlifewins #latenightwriting #supermom #supermoms #supermommy #supermomchallenge #supermomchronicles #supermompowers #comeasyouare #momwriter #momsofinstagram
hair1

The Snip Heard Round the World

, ,

Guys, the BEST thing about being a mom of boys, hands down, is taking them to the barbershop. Now, I know there are probably many of you who do the snip-snip yourself at home. All I have to say is, “YOU WIN!”

Come to think of it, I should write another book titled “Mom’s Not Cuttin’ Your Hair.” Cuz this mom surely ain’t doin’ it.

I would consider myself a fairly competent “Jack of all trades,” but I know my limitations. I barely know how to fix my own hair, much less lay scissors to another human’s head. One time, when I was in high school, my brother let me attempt to cut his hair with the clippers. All I’m going to say is: sheep have looked better after half their coat is lying on the ground.

Good thing that particular brother is neither vain nor given to fits of rage. Sorry, Will. I obviously learned my lesson. Again… I now know my limitations.

So, yes, we work the every-2-months-or-so haircuts into the family budget. This self-proclaimed Jack-of-all-trades will leave hair cutting to our favorite barbershop, Barbershop Jack… and now I do, in fact, know Jack about hair. I found a GREAT barber and they educated me on the nuances of boy-shearing.

And hair mowing day is my favorite day ever.

My three wild little things have been going ever since they were tiny. The barbers have been patient and kind and even when they screamed, just handed them more lollipops. When we walk in, they head straight for the lollipop bowl and I just look the other way– I don’t know what sort of crimes are being committed and what kind of sugar is being consumed. It’s kind of like the grandparents’ house. I’m in such a good mood that nothing can destroy it. Not even ridiculous sugared-up boys.

They hop up in the chair with their little fuzzy, hair-covered lollipops and they ask if the barber will turn on “Sponge Bob Square Pants.” The barber looks at me. Me: “Sure. Go right ahead. I’ll allow it.”

The barbers and I will catch up on their lives and families, because you know…. little boys watching Spongebob are not the most loquacious conversationalists.

By this time, the barbers all know how I like their hair. Sammy bucked the system the last time and told me he wanted his head shaved just like Josh’s. Josh’s hair is particularly wiry and looks fine cut really close. Sammy… just looks weird. BUUUT… I decided it was just one of those things I needed to let him do. And so he did it. And he really liked it. But about a week ago, he decided he wanted to be able to “style” his hair. So the next time, he declared he was going to leave it long. My mama’s heart breathed a sigh of relief.

Barbershop Jack is an oasis in my life. They have cold drinks in the fridge for the hot, hot AZ summers. Comfy couches and lots of reading material for both kids and adults. It has the feel of a local hometown barber shop, but in the middle of busy Phoenix, AZ.

They even have a female barber who has a background in salon hair. I’ve been known to sit myself down while the boys are getting theirs cut and get a quick trim. And I usually have a baby sitting on my lap. Not exactly a nice and relaxing day at the spa, but it gets the job done and there will be plenty of spa time available when my babies are older.

The. Very. Best. Thing is when the boys get out of the chair. It’s my one shot at perfection. My one shot at “no-hair-out-of-place-preciousness” that somehow erases all of the insane/stupid things they did that week. I clap my hands and squeal and yell “YOU ARE SO HANDSOME” uncontrollably, practically crying with joy. The barbershop is used to it and they just tip their hat waiting for the slobbery sappy mom to simmer down and pay the bill.

The other day, I was in the kitchen fixing dinner and helping Sammy with his homework at the kitchen table. I sent the other two upstairs to take showers. I thought to myself, “It’s mighty quiet up there.” And based on my experience, I should have gone to check. But based on my tiredness, I let it be.

The photo attached to this post is the result of “letting it be.”

Needless to say, I let them go to school like that the next day. I asked Josh if many people commented. He said, “Oh, about four…” and shrugged his shoulders. And then life happened and I forgot to take them to get it fixed. TJ will pretty much have to have his luxurious hair shaved off in order to right the wrongs.

And that is really the only reason I am mad. TJ will shatter my barbershop zen because his head will look like the surface of a baby’s bottom.

But I have faith in you, Don and all the crew at Barbershop Jack. You are miracle workers. I’m just going to grab my Dr. Pepper, lean back on the couch and zone out to Spongebob. Because a nice afternoon at the barbershop covers a multitude of sins.

#boymom #momofboys #cuthisownhair #barbershopjack #haircuttime #letsfixthis #hairdisaster #momofboys💙  #momofboys #momofboyslife #momofboysrock #barbersrule #rockstarbarbers #rockstarbarbershop #ilovemybarber 

football

The Great Easter Hug Hunt

, , , , , ,

As far as sporting events go, Easter is the Superbowl for those of us who follow Jesus. It’s a big deal. We get to celebrate THE REASON we exist. The reason we get up every morning. The Person who loved us first. Man, it is just awesome! And if you don’t celebrate, thank you for supporting those of us who do. Just know, the roster isn’t full yet and the winning team could always use a few more players… in case you’re looking for the greatest coach to ever play the game.

It will never cease to be special to me, but this year it was missing some of the magic… like every single holiday of the pandemic. Part of it is simply a construct of having four kids under eight with a baby. Every little task just seems monumental, especially the thought of trying to do a special weekend or a special dinner. Or a special… anything.

And because of viral concerns, my family hasn’t gathered in a year. I know you are all with me on this. We’ve seen bits and pieces of family, but the big fun holiday gatherings where there are tons of arms to pick up the babies… aren’t happening. No meeting on the field… everyone sits in their own locker rooms… and plays football over zoom.

So we found ourselves on Easter weekend tired to the bone like every other weekend. Dave and I talked briefly about how we both basically do shift work. He shifts in the morning from about 6AM-9PM then sleeps. I’m up from about 7AM-midnight doing all the things. All. The. Things. Janitor, concessions, referee, back-of-house sales, finance and corporate. Everything. And when all of those things are done… suit up and play the game of your life.

Hiding Easter eggs and making pretty candy baskets were not at the top of my fun list of things to do. Screw you, you dumb bunny. Now you make me stay up even later. I was so tired I didn’t even want to picture my kids’ faces when they saw the Easter Basket. Bunny and Santa… you’d better hide because there’s one pissed off mom who does NOT need one more thing to do.

That was tired Sara talking to myself as I trudged up the stairs to try and wrangle the crew in bed. I sat in my room and played with Rachel putting off the inevitable… the boy tribe.

But before I could enter the boy locker room, Josh came peeling into our room crying his eyes out. It was not an “emergency room” cry… it was a “somebody hurt my feelings and I’m going to make sure everyone knows” cry.

In between gulps of ugly-cry fit he managed to tell us that Sammy had slapped him hard. On the face. I looked for a hand print but I was darkly disappointed that I didn’t see one. Definitely “Illegal Use of the Hands.”

I asked him why Sam did it and Josh replied he didn’t know. I can usually tell if Josh was instigating, but he seemed too shocked and broken this time.

Time to suit up and get on my gear. I closed my eyes and sighed, breathed a prayer and went to confront Sammy. When I got in the room he stood there with the guilty eyes. In Sam’s case, they’re the cutest expression his eyes make so it’s not good for the referee who finds it hard to resist such sway.

“Sam… why did you slap your brother really hard?”

He wandered around with some bizarre explanations until I brought him back to the field. “So what you’re saying is that ‘You slapped him because it was fun and you felt like it.'”

He muttered some affirmatives and I had to start in on the mom explanation of “Illegal use of the hands or you’ll incur a penalty. More blah blah blah of the mom pep talk. You guys know. You do it all the time. I ended with “You owe your brother an apology.”

I brought Josh in the room and said, “Josh, tell Sammy how that slap made you feel.” So he did that and I could see Sammy’s eyes go a little watery and back and forth between anger and hurt.

Sammy copped up to a pretty sincere apology. Josh still had angry frown and stone face. Josh could make an entire career of being butt-hurt and even have time for a side hustle of selling drama and holding grudges.

“Josh, what do you say to Sammy? Do you forgive him?”

Josh: “No.”

I leaned in really close to Josh’s ear and whispered, “I can tell he really means it.”

I stood up. I saw both faces soften in the slightest.

Josh: “OK, I forgive you.”

I was trying very VERY hard not to be triumphant. I was close enough, I decided to go for the two point conversion. “OK guys, why don’t you give each other a hug.”

At the same time they both looked at each other and said, “No.”

Me: “OK, OK, I can respect that. Maybe that can come later.”

Messy.

Messy, messy, messy forgiveness. But headed down that road, nonetheless. I didn’t care so much about the words and actions, I was studying their hearts like a player watches the game plan on the chalk board.

I saw glimmers of progress. And that was good for that night.

As I finally laid my weary head down that night after making the baskets and eggs and treats, I couldn’t help but think of Jesus on that awful night. How his mother had to watch him be slapped and brutalized and spit upon. And as we explained to our kids, Jesus chose it. He chose every bit of it for us. He knew that he had to lose in order to win… and did it all because He loves us. Endured the most hellish “game” ever imaginable because he knew our souls hung in the balance.

Jesus isn’t into neat and tidy forgiveness. He’ll suit up and meet us on our home field turf because he loves us that much. And he also loves us too much to watch us try to keep scoring touchdowns on our own end zone. If we stay down after a hard tackle, He will pick us up, dust us off and turn us toward victory.

This whole last year, I seemed to be lying flat on my back with the wind knocked out of me… gasping for breath and sleep and whatever else while the other tiny little football players ran around me and laughed. But I do know this: I can’t be helped up by a loving hand when I’m already standing. E’en so, Lord Jesus, quickly come. Sorry not sorry for the flagrant running football analogy. I am, after all, a mom of little boys.

#superbowlsunday #heisrisen #forgiveyourbrother #momlifewins #boymom #boymomadventures #boymomsrock #boymoms #boymomforlife #helives #helivesinme #upfromthegravehearose #easter2021 #easter2021🐣🐇 #forgivenessisfreedom #forgivenessofsins #reconciliation #reconciliationday #truthandreconciliation

lovely_set_table

The Right Thing at the Right Time

,

The dinner table is a gourmet recipe for serving up some character. Now that I’m a parent, I understand why such an emphasis has been placed on eating dinners together. Ours looks pretty haphazard these days. We have boys randomly falling out of their chair at least once a meal. Kicking each other underneath the table. Baby cries to get out of her high chair. Asking for first, seconds, thirds the second I sit down. Drinks are spilled, arguments broken up. But… I look at it this way. Even though it’s rather chaotic at this stage of our life, we are all, in fact, interacting with each other.

As kids are prone to have, opinions fly freely without filters most of the time.

Our middle, Sam is extremely direct and unfiltered most of the time. He’s far less sensitive than his brothers. Also pickier with his food.

He has a tendency to tell me exactly what he doesn’t like about his plate of food the second I set it in front of him.

A side note: I like to cook. Cooking is creative, from my perspective. I love to eat nice things and the boys have no idea how good they have it. And even when we have infants, I’ll let the other domestic things go so we can all eat great food.

I usually let the comments go, but a few night ago, I needed to address it. I had just worked myself into a sweat going from the grill to the oven and back again 50 times along with feeding a baby and helping the boys do homework, etc. I was tired.

I placed the dishes of food in front of each boy and Sammy started in on the usual, “Mom, don’t put that on my plate” or “Mom, I don’t like this.”

I stopped what I was doing and looked straight at him.

“OK, son. We’re going to talk about this. You are entitled to your opinion. You are also absolutely entitled to not like certain things. BUT IT IS INAPPROPRIATE TO SHOUT THEM OUT TO ME RIGHT WHEN I PUT YOUR FOOD DOWN IN FRONT OF YOU.”

So then we talked about what “appropriate” was… doing the right thing at the right time. He knew I was going to make him try the foods he didn’t like anyway, so blurting his displeasure out 1) was not timely to someone who just served you food and 2) was just plain rude. What? You mean, rudeness extends to mom as well? You’d better believe it. If I want them to be polite to others, I’m going to require them to start with me.

Then, after serving everyone else, I sat down. And the second I sat down Josh said, “Mom, can I have more milk?” Another glorious opportunity for growth.

Me: “Josh, do you think it was appropriate to ask me for milk the second I sat down?”

Him: “Ummm…. probably not.”

Me: “I know you have needs and wants, but it would be more appropriate to ask for milk at a time other than when mom just sits down to the table.”

I know. I know. It is so very hard for kids to understand that parents are people too. But it’s important that they see us as such because we are their first line for everything and especially developing empathy for others.

So we eat our dinner. A few people fall out of their chairs. A few people spill their drinks. A few people throw fits and there may have been some words exchanged and punches thrown.

As everyone was finishing up, Sam chuckled to himself.

“Mom, MOM!”

“Yes, son?”

“Do you remember that time a couple of days ago when TJ ran out of the door into the street and you chased him all over the neighborhood and you didn’t have any pants on?” *laughs hysterically to himself*

“Yes. Yes I do. And THAT was completely inappropriate.”

If you’re reading this and you’re my neighbor, sorry you had to see that and even more sorry… it probably won’t be the last time, either.

#therightthingattherighttime #goodmanners #childrensbookauthor #storytimes #dinnertime🍴😋  #dinnertime🍴 #dinnertimestories #momlifewins #dinnertimeisfamilytime

Load More