Friday, April 27, 2012
Stressed Mom's Cafe: Letter To My Son
Stressed Mom's Cafe: Letter To My Son: Son, First of all, I want to say how proud I was tonight watching you play ball. You have come such a long way, and now all of your ...
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Letter To My Son
Son,
First of all, I want to say how proud I was tonight watching you play ball. You have come such a long way, and now all of your effort is paying off. There is nothing I love more than watching you out there with your friends having so much fun and being a part of something bigger.
After the game, during your little brother's game, I also loved watching you play on an empty field with a big group of boys. I couldn't help but notice how fast you are growing up. I love watching you interact with friends, the kids you will go through school with, your learning years.
But, as I watch you out there, so big and independent, I can't help but worry about the times that I won't be just one ball field away, able to keep my eye on you. Tonight, I knew the kids you were playing with. They are all good kids. And I was right there within shouting distance. But see, it's not always going to be that way. And that is scary for a mom.
So there are some things I really want, need, to say to you. Please bear with me.
First of all, I hope I have taught you that it's good to be quirky, popularity doesn't mean squat, and, oh, those name brands? Who cares.
Also, I want to tell you this. At some point in your life, a couple of years from now, or maybe tomorrow, there is going to be some kid, or a group of kids--maybe even a big group of kids (yikes)--who are going to try to talk you into doing something that you know is wrong. Maybe I've told you it's wrong, maybe you have learned at school or church that it's wrong, or maybe you just have a weird feeling in your stomach that makes you think it's wrong.
Anyway, this kid or these kids that are trying to talk you into doing something bad. Well, they know deep down that they are making the wrong choice. They think that by talking you into making the wrong choice, it makes what they are doing less wrong.
But that is not how it works at all.
Just like in baseball, this is when you have to step up to the plate. This is when you have to be a leader, a good example, a man.
This is make it or break it time. Do you hear me? Make it or break it.
This is when you have two choices. You either show you are a strong leader who stands up for what is right, or you show you are a weak follower, scared to stand up for what you believe in.
See, I already know what you are. I know you are a leader. And I know when the time comes, when another boy, or a group of boys, or even a girl is trying to talk you into doing something you know is wrong, I know you will have the strength to do what is right.
I'm your mom, and I know.
Sure, when you take your stand, the others might make fun of you. But, get this, do you know why they are making fun of you?
Son, they are making fun of you because you just showed major courage--I'm talking like superhero courage, and it just freaked--them--out!
You just showed them you are stronger than them. How awesome is that?
And you know what? Maybe, just maybe, by taking a stand, there is some other kid who was about to make the wrong choice, who will now make the right choice...all because of you and your strength.
Doing the right thing is sometimes hard...sometimes it's really hard.
But as your mom, I can promise you--absolutely promise you one thing.
When you stand up to those kids, three VERY big things will happen.
First, you will show integrity, good character, and some major kick-butt courage. (Kick-butt isn't the greatest word in the world, but for this kind of courage there is simply no other word for it).
Second, you will make God happy, your family proud, and show some big-time respect for yourself.
And lastly, even though they might not say it, deep down those guys you stood up to think you're a rock star.
These things I can promise you.
And even though you will always be my baby and I love you more than anything in the world, I am not always going to be able to protect you. I'm not always going to be just one field over.
Please just try to remember what I've just said, and tuck it away in that beautiful mind of yours. You never know when you will have to use it.
Just remember that when the moment arises, follow your gut and do what is right, and everything will be okay. I promise.
I love you,
Mom
First of all, I want to say how proud I was tonight watching you play ball. You have come such a long way, and now all of your effort is paying off. There is nothing I love more than watching you out there with your friends having so much fun and being a part of something bigger.
After the game, during your little brother's game, I also loved watching you play on an empty field with a big group of boys. I couldn't help but notice how fast you are growing up. I love watching you interact with friends, the kids you will go through school with, your learning years.
But, as I watch you out there, so big and independent, I can't help but worry about the times that I won't be just one ball field away, able to keep my eye on you. Tonight, I knew the kids you were playing with. They are all good kids. And I was right there within shouting distance. But see, it's not always going to be that way. And that is scary for a mom.
So there are some things I really want, need, to say to you. Please bear with me.
First of all, I hope I have taught you that it's good to be quirky, popularity doesn't mean squat, and, oh, those name brands? Who cares.
Also, I want to tell you this. At some point in your life, a couple of years from now, or maybe tomorrow, there is going to be some kid, or a group of kids--maybe even a big group of kids (yikes)--who are going to try to talk you into doing something that you know is wrong. Maybe I've told you it's wrong, maybe you have learned at school or church that it's wrong, or maybe you just have a weird feeling in your stomach that makes you think it's wrong.
Anyway, this kid or these kids that are trying to talk you into doing something bad. Well, they know deep down that they are making the wrong choice. They think that by talking you into making the wrong choice, it makes what they are doing less wrong.
But that is not how it works at all.
Just like in baseball, this is when you have to step up to the plate. This is when you have to be a leader, a good example, a man.
This is make it or break it time. Do you hear me? Make it or break it.
This is when you have two choices. You either show you are a strong leader who stands up for what is right, or you show you are a weak follower, scared to stand up for what you believe in.
See, I already know what you are. I know you are a leader. And I know when the time comes, when another boy, or a group of boys, or even a girl is trying to talk you into doing something you know is wrong, I know you will have the strength to do what is right.
I'm your mom, and I know.
Sure, when you take your stand, the others might make fun of you. But, get this, do you know why they are making fun of you?
Son, they are making fun of you because you just showed major courage--I'm talking like superhero courage, and it just freaked--them--out!
You just showed them you are stronger than them. How awesome is that?
And you know what? Maybe, just maybe, by taking a stand, there is some other kid who was about to make the wrong choice, who will now make the right choice...all because of you and your strength.
Doing the right thing is sometimes hard...sometimes it's really hard.
But as your mom, I can promise you--absolutely promise you one thing.
When you stand up to those kids, three VERY big things will happen.
First, you will show integrity, good character, and some major kick-butt courage. (Kick-butt isn't the greatest word in the world, but for this kind of courage there is simply no other word for it).
Second, you will make God happy, your family proud, and show some big-time respect for yourself.
And lastly, even though they might not say it, deep down those guys you stood up to think you're a rock star.
These things I can promise you.
And even though you will always be my baby and I love you more than anything in the world, I am not always going to be able to protect you. I'm not always going to be just one field over.
Please just try to remember what I've just said, and tuck it away in that beautiful mind of yours. You never know when you will have to use it.
Just remember that when the moment arises, follow your gut and do what is right, and everything will be okay. I promise.
I love you,
Mom
Sunday, April 22, 2012
This summer...
There are thousands of articles about ways to make your children happy. It's overwhelming, actually, how much advice you can find on this subject. But let me tell you a little something I inadvertantly discovered the other night. I discovered THE TRICK to making little boys ecstatic. It might work on girls too, I'm not sure. It can be summed up with two little words.
New. Snacks.
I kid you not. You would have thought that I walked in with Disney World strapped to my back. Apparently getting just three or four never-before-seen snacks and dumping them in a big Rubbermaid tub in the pantry made me an instant rock star. My eight-year-old, with the swagger of a 16-year-old, muttered under his breath, "Mom is on a roll."
I was happily stunned that something so simple had made them so happy. The way to a man's heart, even a little man's heart, is through his stomach. The old saying is actually true.
It made me think about how it really is the simple things that our kids appreciate. It has always fascinated me, the things that my children remember that I didn't even realize were meaningful enough to remember. I was talking to my children the other night and trying to get them to tell me some things they would like to do this summer. Of course they said the obvious things like going to the beach and going to the swimming pool, but just as important was eating ice cream on the porch and reading Harry Potter.
My oldest still remembers how one time when he was really little he spilled a jar of bath crystals into an empty tub and we made his trains plow through the pretend dirt or snow or whatever. Seriously?? This is what he remembers.
I don't know why I find that suprising. I can still remember drinking Orange Crush whenever there was a tornado warning. We got in our safe place and talked and drank soda. Something so crazy simple, and yet I get a warm, fuzzy feeling every time I think of it.
Every summer I make a list of things I want to do with the kids that summer. The list is ridiculously long, about 75 things. It can be anything from going on an out of town trip to playing volleyball and eating pizza with friends.
At the end of the summer I have always barely put a dent in the list and then decide that I am a horrible summertime parent.
This summer I am going to cut myself some slack.
This summer I vow to remember that catching fireflies will be remembered just as much, if not more than going to Alabama Adventure.
This summer I'm going to sit back and relax and try to savor every moment no matter how small.
I can just imagine it. No overwhelming planning. No crazy schedule. Just simple fun and living in the moment.
This might be the best summer yet.
New. Snacks.
I kid you not. You would have thought that I walked in with Disney World strapped to my back. Apparently getting just three or four never-before-seen snacks and dumping them in a big Rubbermaid tub in the pantry made me an instant rock star. My eight-year-old, with the swagger of a 16-year-old, muttered under his breath, "Mom is on a roll."
I was happily stunned that something so simple had made them so happy. The way to a man's heart, even a little man's heart, is through his stomach. The old saying is actually true.
It made me think about how it really is the simple things that our kids appreciate. It has always fascinated me, the things that my children remember that I didn't even realize were meaningful enough to remember. I was talking to my children the other night and trying to get them to tell me some things they would like to do this summer. Of course they said the obvious things like going to the beach and going to the swimming pool, but just as important was eating ice cream on the porch and reading Harry Potter.
My oldest still remembers how one time when he was really little he spilled a jar of bath crystals into an empty tub and we made his trains plow through the pretend dirt or snow or whatever. Seriously?? This is what he remembers.
I don't know why I find that suprising. I can still remember drinking Orange Crush whenever there was a tornado warning. We got in our safe place and talked and drank soda. Something so crazy simple, and yet I get a warm, fuzzy feeling every time I think of it.
Every summer I make a list of things I want to do with the kids that summer. The list is ridiculously long, about 75 things. It can be anything from going on an out of town trip to playing volleyball and eating pizza with friends.
At the end of the summer I have always barely put a dent in the list and then decide that I am a horrible summertime parent.
This summer I am going to cut myself some slack.
This summer I vow to remember that catching fireflies will be remembered just as much, if not more than going to Alabama Adventure.
This summer I'm going to sit back and relax and try to savor every moment no matter how small.
I can just imagine it. No overwhelming planning. No crazy schedule. Just simple fun and living in the moment.
This might be the best summer yet.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Stressed Mom's Cafe: It's All Good
Stressed Mom's Cafe: It's All Good: Nothing quite screams Easter like a Mommy Dearest moment right before worship. But if my children keep misplacing their shoes...I'm. Not....
It's All Good
Nothing quite screams Easter like a Mommy Dearest moment right before worship.
But if my children keep misplacing their shoes...I'm. Not. Going. To. Make. It.
Of course, if I were organized like those mommies that make homemade salad dressing and iron sheets, then I would have done the minimal organizational mommy step of laying out their Easter outfits the night before.
I guess you can figure out what happened with that one.
So it's time for us to leave the house and I am flying around the house covered in a sheen of sweat, digging through piles like a rabid cat in a litter box.
Finally, I grab a horrific pair of weathered sneakers and ascertain that it's either those, or we come up with some sort of Batman water-shoe theme. Everything suddenly becomes too much and I flip out. I start ranting and raving about how nobody cares about anything and how they will probably use part of the Easter offering to buy my five-year-old new shoes.
My rant went on for quite a while and no one even argued with me. I may have even been arguing with myself, I'm not sure.
As we headed to church, I downed a healthy breakfast of Coke and packaged peanut butter and crackers and mentally asking myself why, oh why, I can't be more organized and stop hitting the alarm for a few more minutes of slumber. I even had the audacity to argue with my husband about how it won't take me that long to get ready and that I had plenty of time. I always underestimate exactly how much my hair hates me.
As we drove down the road, no one challenged me. Maybe they figured that at any moment I would smear red lipstick all over my face and start ranting like Joan Crawford about wire hangers.
Finally, we made it to church--late, but we were finally there. I settled into my seat, crossed my legs, and looked down. That is when I discovered that apparently my razor has missed one particular spot on my knees in perhaps the last ten shaves. Seriously, Katniss and Peeta could have sought shelter there in the Arena.
Despite the rough start, this past Easter Sunday ended up being one of the best days ever. I think it's because I finally decided that I would just let go, stop worrying if everything was perfect, and roll with it. Something about perception being your reality.
So we didn't have new outfits and the kids looked a little ruffled. That's irrelevant to what Easter is all about anyway. We didn't gather for a family Easter picture, because all of you with kids know that if you are already having a rough start to your day, that could flat out send you straight into the arms of a straight jacket. We didn't have an Easter ham, we had Easter hamburgers. We spent the rest of the day outside in the sunshine, doing absolutely nothing in particular.
The day ended up surprisingly perfect.
Thanking God for everything you have doesn't mean you have to have the perfect outfit or cook a big meal.
I learned that I simply need to relax more and roll with the punches.
Shaving my knees wouldn't hurt either:)
Friday, March 9, 2012
Almost 40? Seriously?
Let's just start this blog entry out with a bang.
Earlier tonight I lifted my shirt up a tad, jumped up and down, and showed my husband exactly what my stomach would look like if I were ever to ride a mechanical bull.
There was no wine and chocolates by the fireplace after that, needless to say.
Is it even possible to have a six pack after two C-sections? I'm not sure. I also remember how back in the day I gained not the freshman fifteen, but the freshman thirty. But even then, my tummy was still flat. Ummm, not so much now.
And by the way, before we move forward, let me interject that though my talent at anything is very limited, I am proud to announce that I actually HAVE ridden a mechanical bull once in my life at a pub in Wisconsin, and they could NOT throw me off of the bull. Granted, I could not move my wrist for a good half hour, but that is one of my favorite accomplishments. That, in and of itself, may, in fact, be pathetic.
Anyhoooooo.
I became aware of the fact today that in twenty days I will be 40. Seriously. 40. What? Is up? With THAT?
That sounds so flipping old to me that I can't even process it.
Let me share a little story with you. Two years ago, I was Christmas shopping in a trendy area near where I live. I went in this artsy jewelry store where a security guard and two girls were chatting. My first thought was that these people looked fun. I assessed them to be about my age. I sort of started chatting with them. As I bought some jewelry, I had to fill out a survey. One of the questions was, "Are you in a sorority?" Now, I'm not stupid. I knew the question was meant for girls in college. I sort of laughed at the question and said, "Well, I was an AOPi...back in 1990!" I knew they wanted to know only of "current" sorority girls, but I was reliving my youth a bit. The guy lit up and said, "Hey, that's the year I was born!"
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSLAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Why is it that no matter what the mirror reflects, I forever feel like I am 25 in my mind??? Am I going to think I am 25 when I am soaking my dentures in a cup and looking for Depends on sale?
Sometimes when I am with my kids it fascinates me that society thinks I am old enought to actually take care of two human beings? Is it normal to feel young and inadequate even when the mirror reflects age and wisdom?
One of the hardest things for me now is that I have these impossibly thin and hot friends. Friends that I have to hang out with at our neighborhood pool. It's sort of like an adult form of detention. They are thin, fit, and they eat lots of fruit.
Today, after exercising and eating more reasonably for several days, the scale not only went down but went up. I was expressing my frustration with a friend. I told her that I guess I was going to just be forty, fat, and fabulous. She encouraged me to join a gym. I told her I hate gyms. She then told me that maybe I would just have to be fat and fabulous. I went and bought four strawberry cupcakes to take home.
If you were to meet me, you would probably consider me to be "of average" size. But, unfortunately, bathing suits change that perspective. Last year my friends gave me margaritas for my birthday and took my bathing suit shopping. My thin friends did this. Dang them.
But today I got quite the reality check. A friend/ acquaintance of mine died over a year ago. She left behind three small children. The last time I spoke to her she was determined to beat the cancer. I couldn't accept any notion other than that she would. She was determined.
She fought hard.
She lost.
I read people's comments on her Facebook page today. I read about how much people miss her. I read about her beautiful children, about how they are thriving and how they are so much like she was and how her spirit lives on through them.
Someone even commented on how she will never grow old but will be forever 37. Then it hit me. WHO AM I to complain about turning 40? What is the alternative? How dare I complain about something that she would have given ANYTHING to have?
Nothing like a little perspective.
Enjoy each and every day. Every single one.
Oh, and if you can get away with it, possibly put high fructose corn syrup in your skinny friend's granola bars.
Love,
Melissa
Earlier tonight I lifted my shirt up a tad, jumped up and down, and showed my husband exactly what my stomach would look like if I were ever to ride a mechanical bull.
There was no wine and chocolates by the fireplace after that, needless to say.
Is it even possible to have a six pack after two C-sections? I'm not sure. I also remember how back in the day I gained not the freshman fifteen, but the freshman thirty. But even then, my tummy was still flat. Ummm, not so much now.
And by the way, before we move forward, let me interject that though my talent at anything is very limited, I am proud to announce that I actually HAVE ridden a mechanical bull once in my life at a pub in Wisconsin, and they could NOT throw me off of the bull. Granted, I could not move my wrist for a good half hour, but that is one of my favorite accomplishments. That, in and of itself, may, in fact, be pathetic.
Anyhoooooo.
I became aware of the fact today that in twenty days I will be 40. Seriously. 40. What? Is up? With THAT?
That sounds so flipping old to me that I can't even process it.
Let me share a little story with you. Two years ago, I was Christmas shopping in a trendy area near where I live. I went in this artsy jewelry store where a security guard and two girls were chatting. My first thought was that these people looked fun. I assessed them to be about my age. I sort of started chatting with them. As I bought some jewelry, I had to fill out a survey. One of the questions was, "Are you in a sorority?" Now, I'm not stupid. I knew the question was meant for girls in college. I sort of laughed at the question and said, "Well, I was an AOPi...back in 1990!" I knew they wanted to know only of "current" sorority girls, but I was reliving my youth a bit. The guy lit up and said, "Hey, that's the year I was born!"
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSLAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Why is it that no matter what the mirror reflects, I forever feel like I am 25 in my mind??? Am I going to think I am 25 when I am soaking my dentures in a cup and looking for Depends on sale?
Sometimes when I am with my kids it fascinates me that society thinks I am old enought to actually take care of two human beings? Is it normal to feel young and inadequate even when the mirror reflects age and wisdom?
One of the hardest things for me now is that I have these impossibly thin and hot friends. Friends that I have to hang out with at our neighborhood pool. It's sort of like an adult form of detention. They are thin, fit, and they eat lots of fruit.
Today, after exercising and eating more reasonably for several days, the scale not only went down but went up. I was expressing my frustration with a friend. I told her that I guess I was going to just be forty, fat, and fabulous. She encouraged me to join a gym. I told her I hate gyms. She then told me that maybe I would just have to be fat and fabulous. I went and bought four strawberry cupcakes to take home.
If you were to meet me, you would probably consider me to be "of average" size. But, unfortunately, bathing suits change that perspective. Last year my friends gave me margaritas for my birthday and took my bathing suit shopping. My thin friends did this. Dang them.
But today I got quite the reality check. A friend/ acquaintance of mine died over a year ago. She left behind three small children. The last time I spoke to her she was determined to beat the cancer. I couldn't accept any notion other than that she would. She was determined.
She fought hard.
She lost.
I read people's comments on her Facebook page today. I read about how much people miss her. I read about her beautiful children, about how they are thriving and how they are so much like she was and how her spirit lives on through them.
Someone even commented on how she will never grow old but will be forever 37. Then it hit me. WHO AM I to complain about turning 40? What is the alternative? How dare I complain about something that she would have given ANYTHING to have?
Nothing like a little perspective.
Enjoy each and every day. Every single one.
Oh, and if you can get away with it, possibly put high fructose corn syrup in your skinny friend's granola bars.
Love,
Melissa
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
URGENT
I promise to get back to light-hearted conversation in my next blog. But since I have shockingly and humbly discovered that there are people reading in other countries, I urge you to please watch this...ALL THE WAY THROUGH. And then SHARE it with others in any way that you can.
I look forward to hearing your input. Please let me know what you think.
Melissa
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