This Piece of Time

This blog is not intended to be a documentation of our life as a family, but there will be some exceptions and this happens to be one of them. Today my baby boy turned two.  This seems unbelievable until I find him standing on the kitchen table with the toilet brush in one hand and then there is no denying.  Emerson is two.  He has balanced out our princess filled home with trucks, trains, and Toy Story.  To celebrate his big day, he made a call to 911, smacked his sisters and kicked the dog.  When I sing him Jesus Loves Me before bed, he now lifts his head from my shoulder looks me nose to nose and whispers "Shh!  No. Don't sing dat."  He then proceeds to tell me what to sing. Tonight he requested "Happy Birthday" for the tenth time today.   Emerson is a kid who hates change (much like his big sister).  He has a temper that can clear Target on a Saturday and a vocabulary that keeps us constantly amazed.  Not to mention, a smile that melts my heart!

Today was a "Me" day.  Twice a month an angelic women (whose name I will not give for fear that you will steal her from me) watches my maniacs from 9:30 am to 3 pm free of charge. I have no idea why she would offer such a thing, but I'm not digging.  You never know when she may realize the error of her ways.  Up until this fall, these "Me" days were unplanned.  I would run errands ALONE, shop ALONE, have lunch with friends ALONE, stare off into space in complete silence ALONE.  You know, all the things moms put on their bucket lists.  It was glorious. Then this fall I decided to sacrifice my "Me" days to work in Paige's classroom.  You can hold your applause.  I get plenty around here.  You see, Paige is a quality time kid and I saw this as an opportunity to give her some of my undivided attention.  Plus, that laminated "Volunteer" name badge makes me feel important.  So instead of having 5 1/2 hours to myself, I have exactly 1 hour to

When I left Taylor, I got married and had a baby within 2 years.  This wasn't an accident.  The baby wasn't either. I loved my little family.  It was everything I had ever wanted.  Yet very quickly I realized that I was alone.  I had my husband, my baby and my family, but my friends where suddenly miles away (both physically and personally).  None of them had babies.  Heck, few of them were married.  They had jobs, boyfriends and graduation.  I had diapers, laundry and grocery shopping.  I had taken an early exit and they were still heading down the highway. The closest of those friendships soon became my focus obsession.  I needed a best friend.  I was hanging on for dear life and in turn choking the living daylights out of her.  To expect one person to be everything is never fair.  Unfortunately, I couldn't see that.  My quest to keep a best friend was doing the very opposite.  Soon, we were over.  Yet another item to add to the list of "Things I Would Change&q

Whew!  Glad to be moving on and in turn...up.  In the fall of 2000, I moved car load of belongings into Hauser Hall on the TUFW campus a mere 20 minutes from my parents house.  Crazy, right?  I might agree with you. But I can't.  Every penny that I spent to live in that tiny dorm room was worth it and the friendships that formed inside those cinder block walls are priceless.  I only lived on campus for one year.  I only attended Taylor for 3 semesters.  In that time there were camping trips, heart to heart talks, midnight Stake-n-Shake runs, pranks (mostly mine), heartbreak, crushes, a trip to San Fransisco, and loads of laughter.  My roommate and I were often confused for sisters/cousins/childhood friends though we had never met before that sticky day in September.  Our neighbors across the hall and next door were nothing less than exactly what I needed.  These friendships were easy.  They challenged me.  They laughed with me.  They loved me.  And I loved them.  Our lives ha

In order to tell you about high school, I need to begin in college. (I know that's backward, but hang with me.)  During my first month at Taylor, someone said something that would forever change me.  I have no idea who made the comment or why they felt compelled to speak.  What I do know is that for whatever reason, this person looked me in the eyes and simply stated "You're so nice."  That may not sound like a life altering statement to you, but it rocked my world. You see, all of the sudden I realized that NO one had ever said that about me.  Now, I'm sure that my parents or family friends had uttered the words, but my high school "friends" had never. What was more alarming was that, in that instant, it all became perfectly clear.  I wasn't nice.  I wasn't outright mean , but I wasn't nice.  I was disapproving, self righteous, and critical. I expected everyone else to live by my standards and I offered them no grace or love. There were

As some of you may already know, I have vowed to "find" my friends this year.  I'm not sure exactly what went wrong, but somehow over the past four months I have completely lost touch with nearly every friend. My quest got an early start and is continuing on a decent pace, but all of this friend finding has me in a reflective mood..  These dear women that I am rediscovering are treasured gifts that I do not take for granted.   You see, friendship has not always come easily for me.  In fact, at times, it has been intensely painful. In the next few blog posts I am going to take you through my evolution of friendship.  Our starting place is ugly.  So ugly that I hesitate to begin there.  But I don't read books backwards.  So we will start in the trenches and from there, we will only have one way to climb.

That's right, you heard it here first.  This mama's SICK!  I have fought off the runny nose-sore throat-head in a vice germs for months on end, but at last I have succumb.  Of course this misfortune must come on the same day as Ohio State's Bowl Game.  Try as he might, my dear husband has zero ability to hear ANYTHING that is happening when a football game is on.  Trust me.  I banged quite a few dishes around in the kitchen.  I even sighed loudly as I carried laundry in to fold.  Still...nothing.  He really does mean well.  He attempted to help with bedtime, but all three of those ankle bitters insisted on "mommy" putting them to bed.  He told me to go to bed as soon as he got home, but really ?  Can you imagine what the house would look like by morning???  I could have asked for help.  I should have asked.  Isn't that what my mother has been hammering into my head for the past 9 years?  "He doesn't see what you see.  You have to ask him." 

My mom was one of “those” moms.  You know.  Their the ones that dread the beginning of school, the ones who live for every moment of school vacations, the ones who cringe when “other” moms cheer for school to begin.  She can’t help it.  It’s who she is.  Since childhood, I have wanted nothing more than to be just like her.  To be a mom who LOVES her job.  Last December, my dreams came crashing down around me.  Or so it seemed. You see, the two weeks of Christmas vacation were pretty much the worst two weeks of my mothering history.  Just a few months before, I had cried my eyes out as I left my tiny six-year-old standing alone in a Kindergarten classroom.  OK, she wasn’t technically alone, but it felt that way … .for both of us.  By the end of December, she was not only comfortable, she was settled.  Two weeks away from her routine was not in her plans and she intended on making that perfectly clear.  There’s a reason teachers don’t give out their home phone numbers.  This was it.