Bits and Pieces #9

• My grandma recently moved out of her assisted living apartment and in with my aunt and uncle.  My dad was handling some of the details of the move, once of which was disconnecting her phone. When he called into the telephone company to do so, the rep noticed what an old number it was.  My dad told the gal she had had that number since 1953, when his parents had built the house and moved into it.  She asked my dad if he was sure he wanted to let the number go.  Well, once it was brought up, he really didn't want to let it go! So my dad changed his cell phone number to his childhood number and the phone number lives on!  I have great happiness in dialing his number now - a number I have known my whole life, and he almost all of his.  

• Ok - this is a rant.  You have been warned.  What is with teenagers and twenty-somethings on all the sosh meeds (that's social media - see I'm a hipster too)?  They seem to start all their "sentences" with when!  Examples:  when your dog eats your homework - or- when you realize tomorrow is Monday - or - when you realize your cat is more thug than you.  It seems the youth of today only know how to write in fragments, and it's driving me crazy! #WhenYouForgetHowToConstructAProperSentence

• Today I removed my 6.5-year-old's 5-point harness carseat from the van.  She has been in a high back booster in the suburban for quite a long time now, but we didn't have a second booster, and she was still small enough to stay in the 5-point, so we just kept using it in the van.  But she was really getting too big for the 5-point, so I bought a high back booster from a friend and put it in this morning.  And as I released the seat belt of the big car seat (it's hard to do - those things are installed tightly - see my post here about car seat installation!) and lugged it out of the van, I realized it was the end of an era.  (I know I'm always saying that - there are lots of eras in my world, and it's a big deal when one comes to an end).  We have had a 5-point carseat for more than 16 years, and today we no longer do.  Sixteen years of buckling someone in, of tightening straps and wrestling with coats.  Sixteen years of sweating and frustration while installing (did you read my post I linked?), and sixteen years of having little kids.  Now our youngest is too big for a carseat.  And since this is me we're talking about, my heart ached a little for those younger years.  Those younger years which were fabulous, but simultaneously really hard -- yes, those years.  As our family grows up, these "lasts" are more and more frequent.  Thankfully, though, for my heart, "firsts" are also cropping up everywhere -- first days in high school, first driver's license, first date, first job.  Truthfully, my heart hurts a bit with both the firsts and the lasts, but it also overflows with each as well.  Parenting never disappoints! 

On Brides and Fathers and Dresses

For the past few months, I have been trying to show my teenage daughter the movie Father of the Bride - the Steve Martin version from the 1990s.  I was about 18 or 19 when it was released, and it quickly became a fan favorite amongst my family and close friends.  We could recite much of the movie and laughed uproariously at Steve Martin and Martin Short.  It was (and still is) quoted often in our family.  I would watch the movie and think ahead to when I would be the bride - what a glorious day it would be!  When Mr. Right and I tied the knot!

Fast forward about four years. . .and indeed Mr. Right had entered my life and things were getting serious between us.  I brought him home during spring break to meet my family, and my dad, ever the sentimental goofball, instinctivley channeled his inner Steve Martin.  We were at The Sizzler (it was really just called Sizzler, but doesn't it sound a lil more sophisticated this way?), and, per usual, I wasn't able to finish my steak.  My dad, who had been eyeing the remains on my plate, sat ready and waiting for me to offer him my leftovers, as I had been doing for the past 20+ years.  Instead, with a sinking stomach he watched me stab the steak and turn to my new beau and say, "Hey babe?  You want the rest of my steak?".  He told me later that it was at that moment that he knew he was replaced.

So, after a few tries with a scratched rental, I finally broke down and ordered a copy of Father of the Bride from Amazon and we watched it yesterday.  I haven't seen it from beginning to end in many, many years, and my memories didn't disappoint. I held my tongue (most of the time) so as not to recite every single line, but it was every bit as funny as I remembered it to be.  All the kids who were in the room thought it was hilarious.  I translated for Frank (the Kek!  the chipper chicken!  Armani don't also make polyaster! where are those cares? we don't want to looose him - he's a genius and we need his maaand!), calmed Shadow down when the dobermans were barking at George holding the bank book, and wiped my eyes when they were filmy at the wedding scene.  And as I watched the movie this time around, everything had shifted.  Instead of relating to Annie, the bride, I was suddenly relating to George and Nina, the parents.  During some of the movie, I sat on the couch with my 16-year-old daughter's head on my lap, and my heart ached a little.  Soon I will be the mother-of-the-bride and we will be the ones who will be "replaced".  It will be awesome and exciting and everything we've prayed for, God-willing, but it will also be hard to let go of her childhood. How time changes one's perspective.

After the movie, my youngest daughter asked me to get my wedding dress down.  I pulled it out - for the first time in almost twenty years.  And oh!  The memories!  I tried it on (I couldn't zip it all the way of course -I don't always offer the steak to my husband anymore!), and looked in the mirror and remembered the girl who wore it almost twenty years ago.  We took a bunch of pictures to show my mom (who made my wedding dress!!), and then I asked my 16-year-old daughter to try it on.  It fit her perfectly!  Looking at her in the dress made reminded me of how I looked in it all those years ago, and it was a great feeling. I took several pictures of her wearing it too, and then my little 6-year-old tried it on too, and we got lots of pictures of her.

While I don't think either of my girls will choose to wear my dress (enormous bows were the fashion in 1996 - I swear!), the whole process of trying it on with them was special to me.  I recall trying my mom's dress on when I was young and thinking ahead to 'one day'.  Time moves quickly and before I know it, my daughters will be trying on their wedding dresses (and my sons will also be preparing for their weddings), and our hearts will be catching up.  And it will be then, Dad, that I think I'll finally understand how you felt that day at The Sizzler.

Life is good!

This morning I woke up at 4:10.  I checked on my son, who had been sick during the night, then I ran through my list of chores for the day, and my plans for my class that day as well.  Suddenly I was overwhelmed with the feeling that life is so very, very good.  I have these amazing children of awesomeness (who are far, far from perfect, but who are precisely perfect for our family), and I have an incredible husband who provides for us and loves me despite my numerous flaws.  We are blessed with an extended family who is so involved in our lives and cares so deeply for us.  We have a church family who loves us like a blood family and rejoices with us in our joys, and prays with us in our sorrows.  And God has graced us with this sacred week and weekend ahead, full of opportunities to deepen our faith. Then our son's confirmation and first communion on Saturday, when he will kneel and confirm his faith, surrounded by 23 family members.

Yes - life is good.  Certainly not perfect, and not always easy, but good.  God made our family - immediate, extended and our church family, and he doesn't make mistakes.  He gave us this life, and flawed as it is with our sin, it is good. His grace and his love for us, poured out so generously on the cross we celebrate this very week, covers all our human shortcomings.

Life is good.

Bits and Pieces #11

Hello my dear blogosphere friends.  I have been muy delinquent of late in my blogging pursuits.  Partly because I just finished watching Friday Night Lights (which ate up a wee bit of my free time),  and also because we are welcoming 16 family members (plus our seven) into our house next weekend for my son's confirmation at the Easter Vigil.  I am planning and prepping food, dress clothes, Easter eggs, Easter baskets, Egg Roll brackets, gifts for the confirmand, and all in all, thoroughly looking forward to this awesome weekend with our son and our extended family.  His older brother and sister's weekends were nothing short of amazing, and I expect nothing less of this son.  He is eagerly awaiting making his confirmation and receiving his first communion.  It's good stuff coming, good stuff!

So - I've been a bit swamped with details (and Netflix, not gonna lie).  But in the quiet of post-dinner-kids-outside-playing, I thought I'd dash off a few little soundbites I've heard around recently:

"Mom!  This sweater is the BEST!!  It has great pockets, Grandma made it, it's super soft, it has cool colors, and it keeps me warm!  Aaaaand - WHAT if it had a magical sweater arm that gave you a donut?  In the middle of the night, you could ask your sweater "donut please?" and it would give you a donut with sprinkles and frosting!!"    What if, indeed!  I would like one of these sweaters, but preferably one which served nachos.  Grandma?

"I'm not ready for the life ahead of me.  I'm too lazy to do what I've gotta do.  Maybe I'll just live with you guys!"  This was said by a very put-upon child who had just finished his chores and proclaimed that he was waaaaaaaay to young to clean a bathroom (he has also informed me that he is too young to empty the dishwasher, vacuum a whole room and clean the basement).  So - I guess we have failure-to-launch situation in our future.  I suppose he will live in the basement - but he probably won't be able to clean it.

On Worshiping With Children

So. . .last night's midweek Lenten worship. Full of pondering and solemnity and introspection and a deepening understanding of what our Savior did for us on the cross.  Yes?  Yes it was. There were many times during the service when I closed my eyes and soaked up the words I was hearing and singing.  More than once my heart was stirred.

But did I mention I also (always) attend church with my children?  Yessiree!  I wouldn't have it any other way, of course, because worshiping with my children is hands-down one of the best things I can do with them.  Raising them in the faith is the single-most important job my husband and I have.

But is it easy?  Not exactly.  Last night, when I wasn't moved by God's word, I was handling situations such as these:

• A concern about the electronic picnic basket my 6-year-old daughter brought to hold her important things.  This basket, if turned on, would play a lovely bit of music and then proclaim "Let's go on a picnic!".  Out of respect for everyone around me, I obsessively checked its power button and shoved it under my seat.
• Ink explosions on my son's hands.  Though it has never happened to me, apparently the new pens I bought have a penchant for getting ink everywhere.   By the time worship was over, my son looked like he had paid a visit to a (struggling) tattoo artist.  
• Gastrointestinal problems.  More than one of my children wasn't feeling well last night, resulting in several trips in and out of church.  And one of those children doesn't know how to exit the church quietly (though my last words to him before he left were "Walk quietly!  Quiet feet!" - to no avail).
• A moon alarm.  What's a moon alarm, you say?  Well, one of my boys has to look at the moon every night for school and chart its phase.  After several days of forgetting this assignment, I decided to set an alarm at 7:51 to remind me to remind him to go outside and look.  Super smart, right?  Go mom!  Yay!  Weeeellll, though I set my alarm on my phone every night for the next morning and know that the alarm isn't silenced by the mute button, I didn't give the moon alarm one thought.  (Let me remind you that I NEVER give the moon alarm a thought - that was why I set it in the first place, because I NEVER thought about the moon check!).  Sooo- at 7:51, just as communion was about to start, and there was silence in all of the land, my phone starts playing a classical vespers piece.  Panicked, I dove down into my purse, all the while cursing the moon and its phases.  Thankfully the piece starts out very quietly, and though I didn't know it at the time, apparently no one around me heard it.  
• Laugh-coughing.  Newly invented by my son, who was sitting next to a friend who said something funny just as my son started to cough.  Again, in a silent moment of worship.  And this child rarely does anything quietly.  He was righteously indignant when I reprimanded him about it - "I was just coughing, mom!  I couldn't help it!"

Yet - amongst all these distractions, anxieties and issues, I worshiped with my family (well most of it - one was preaching and another was singing in the choir).  One son leaned over and told me the choral piece was amazing, and another child held my hand as we prayed the Lord's prayer together.  Worshiping with children is not for the feint of heart, no doubt, but oh how we are fed as we worship together.  Praise God that he strengthens us for our journeys - including parenting our children. 

Bits and Pieces #10

• We were shopping at Shoe Carnival recently, and one of my dear, long-suffering children says with a moan, "I don't think this place should be called Shoe Carnival.  I think it should be called Poo Carnival!"
• Last month, we celebrated Shadow's Adoptoversary.  Yep, it was just over a year ago that our black doggie became a part of our family.  We celebrated by giving him a Happy Dog Meal (which I bought on major Christmas clearance, of course!), complete with fries, a cheeseburger and some liver hearts.  What else says Happy Adoptoversary like liver hearts? We could tell he was very moved by our show of love. 
• I have been filling up the burb lately for around $40.  I cannot tell you how overjoyed that makes me!  During the worst of the gas prices, it was well over $100 to fill up.  Woohoo!
• Daughter:  "When I grow up I think I would like to be president." 
• Me:  "That's a great idea, babe!  I would vote for you!'
• Daughter:  "Well, if you're not dead yet!"  
• I bought some Dove soap the other day, and more than once, I have walked into the bathroom after someone has showered, and I am instantly taken back 30 + years.  Taken back to my grandma's mauve bathroom, where she only used pink Dove soap.  It is amazing how a scent can transport a person to another time, another place.  I have blogged about this subject before, and it never ceases to amaze me.  One moment I am walking into my bathroom, instructing my 9-year-old son to keep moving after his shower, and the next, I am 9 years old, washing my hands in my grandma's pink bathroom.  She passed away 16 years ago, and I very much enjoyed the little catapult to the past, and my vivid memories of my beloved grandma.

Slam Dunk!

Sunday marked the end of my 14-year-old son's grade school basketball career.  It has not been an especially illustrious career; in fact, the losses have certainly outweighed the wins.  But these past four years of playing basketball for our Lutheran grade school have been a major part of our lives, and now it is over.  We end the season each year by participating in a large Lutheran school tournament about two hours away.  All the families travel together and stay at the same hotel.  We eat, laugh, cheer and hang out as one big school family.  It's a blast, and the highlight of the players' year (and their siblings' and parents' as well).

The team ended up only winning two games this season, and although I would have preferred a winning season (who wouldn't?), I consistently told my son how proud I was of the effort I saw him put forth each game.  Even if they were losing by 20 or more points, he and his teammates never gave up.  They pushed and gave the game everything they had.  We all watched this team, many of whom have been friends since kindergarten or earlier, work together, rely on each other, trust each other, and grow.   In my opinion, that teamwork, integrity and growth is even more important than winning lots of games.

During the final game of the tourney, with less than two minutes left and only down by six, my son and one of his teammates noticed that points had erroneously been given to us instead of the other team.  They waved quickly to the ref, stopping the game momentarily, to point out the error.  The scoreboard was corrected and the game continued, with us finally losing by about six.  A few hours later, when I asked him why he had stopped the game to flag down the ref, since the error made winning much more achievable, he said, "A dishonest win would have meant nothing".

This is my black-and-white son speaking.  Having no room for any gray area has its challenges for sure, but I am so thankful that being ethical at all costs is so important to him.  There are rough waters a-coming in high school and beyond and I pray that this approach to life continues to be second nature to him.

So the season is over, with a rather lopsided record.  But I think these boys had a winning season.  In the things that truly matter - integrity, Christian attitude, teamwork - they came out on top.