So, you ask...do you work?

Um yes.  I work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  What do I do?  I'm a Mom.

I'm an alarm clock, a cook, a maid, a teacher, a nanny, a nurse, a handyman, a security officer, a photographer, an event planner, a counselor, a chauffeur, an ATM, a jungle gym, a comforter, a fashion designer, an accountant, a personal shopper, a barber, and a hostess to all who enter my home.

I don't get holidays, sick days, or vacation time.  I work day and night, on call at all hours.

And I love it.

(I found this online and really liked it!!!)

The Good Life

I thought it would be a good idea to take the kids into Brainerd today.

Ha.

Actually, they did really well...I just get super anxious when I'm in public and they're not exactly perfect angels.  (As if they ever will be...)

It started off interestingly enough though.  I have a monkey backpack with a long tail for Kale, so yes, it's basically a leash, but it keeps him within arms reach and from running into traffic.  So we get to our destination, and I'm pushing Addison in the stroller (she's yelling, by the way, and I'm just trying to get inside to calm her), and Kale's walking at Kale Pace through the parking lot.  He trips and falls, isn't phased by it, and as I pick him up, this old lady walking behind us yells at me, "He's not a dog!!!!!!!!!!!"  People turn and look, and I don't know whether to cry or snap back at her.  So I ignore her and keep going, desperately ignoring the mumbling comments of Old Mother Grouch.

Then, thankfully, a lady in a van stops, rolls down the window and says, "Ma'am!  That is the cutest thing I've ever seen!!!  I didn't know they make those!  It sure would've come in handy for me!"  I smiled, thanked her, and continued walking.  Once inside, I wanted to take the monkey off Kale's back just so people wouldn't judge me...then I realized that they can't judge me.  Only God can.  So I keep the monkey on.  Oh, and Kale enjoys his monkey, by the way.  (He loves playing with it at home, running to the end of the leash and falling down, giggling, and doing it again.)

The kids sleep on the way back to our little town and we go visit Daddy at work, where both Kale and Addison are happy to delight the ladies John works with.  They coo with Addison (who, although is trying her hardest grunting and pushing to poop when not being talked to, is happily smiling and cooing back) and give Kale a bright yellow balloon (which serves as a little booey for me, knowing where he is at all times even when I can't see his little head bobbing around.)

Finally, we walk over to the post office to send some pictures to Great Grandma Ruth and pick up a package waiting there for us, and everyone is kind and courteous, opening doors for us and smiling, greeting, talking to the kids.  We get home and I'm able to get the kids down for a nap and eat a quick lunch, when I realize how much I love my life.  I miss being closer in driving distance to my family, but this is nice.  I have a wonderful, faithful husband who adores me, two healthy, happy kids who are also amazing sleepers, a decent home (despite the Slash wannabe living below us), kind townspeople, and I'm getting better at cooking!  (Feta stuffed chicken for supper, anyone???)  So yeah, I love my life.

Even when yelled at by strangers.

Moments...

Every day is full of moments that I wouldn't change for the world.  For instance, when Kale runs over to Addison in the morning going, "Mmmmmm!!!" with his lips puckered, ready to kiss her.  Or when he sits on the floor reading his books, totally oblivious to the world around him...and the moments when Addison stares into my eyes and we just share that moment. 

I wouldn't change those moments for anything.  But there are a few I would change.

If I could change the moment it took for John's hockey career to end, I would.  The moment when he made that save, and the opposing player fell onto his lower back...thankfully he wasn't paralyzed, although it took quite a while for him to get the feeling back in his legs.  The Division I hockey scouts no longer corresponded with him, and his dream ended there...and it took a moment to shatter that dream.

I would also change the moment I decided to attend a $100,000+ university.  (Bet you can't guess why...)

Everyone says as you get older, time goes faster.  And so that is why I'm really trying to take time to smell the roses, and to savor the moments I am lucky enough to experience with my children.  It's also a huge reason as to why I haven't yet decided on working.  I missed the exciting moments when Kale first rolled over, sat up, and crawled.  Because I was working.  I don't want to miss them with Addison, and I don't want to miss Kale's first sentence, or his first time singing a song, or any other moment that a mother should witness. 

As Steven Tyler sings, I don't want to miss a thing.

Memory...All Alone In The Moonlight

The memories I have that surround my grandparents on my Dad's side seem so empty now that they have both passed away.  It's such an unexplainable feeling...a sense of loss and loneliness, almost breathtaking in a way.  Like I've been sucker punched.  John assured me that their death doesn't make my memories any less valid, but to me, I'm all alone with them now.  No one else but Gram remembers the time I sat at her kitchen table while she put her makeup on during June of the late 90's.  It was just the two of us there.  Now it's just me.

Walking into Gram and Grampa's house with no one to greet me was hard.  It was quiet.  No country music on the radio.  No TV noise.  Not even the cuckoo clock was ticking.  It was just silent.  And I strongly disliked the feeling...I was just getting used to not seeing my Grandpa when I walked into the living room, but where was my Grandma and her smile?  Her twinkling eyes and silly giggle as she said, "Oh honey!  What a surprise!"?

It's been just over a week since Gram Elaine's death.  Her funeral was nice, but slightly stressful.  I would've liked a little more time to just take it all in, but I felt rushed...perhaps that's why I felt no emotion.  Or perhaps it was because Gram didn't look like the Gram I grew up with.  (Dad said she aged about ten years in the last afternoon she spent here in this life.)

And yet, although I hurt, Gram's death was graceful.  How she died was dignified.  (Renal failure.)  While she had stage four colon cancer that would have eventually killed her in the most painful way, complete with too much suffering for her to bear, God decided to take her in a peaceful way, by falling asleep and never waking up to the pain of this world.  She was surrounded by love...with her two boys at her side.  Her daughter-in-law there.  With her grandchildren there in spirit. 

We had time to say goodbye to her, and she had time to say goodbye to us.  I said my goodbye's, telling her that she's lucky to go see Grandpa Harv.  She sat back into her bed, looked off and smiled the most peaceful smile in the world, and said, "Oh I can't WAIT to see him again."  It was powerful...just as powerful as the vision I saw after my mom called me telling me Gram had died:

It was Gram, waking up, and Grandpa Harv waiting there for her, smiling.  She let her eyes rest on him and got all teary, smiled as got out of her hospital bed with ease, and walked over to him with her arms outstretched, wrists flopped outward, and as they embraced she sighed, "Oh Harv!"

It's that thought that gives me comfort, and makes her death beyond beautiful.

Addison's Hair Garden

I've decided to start selling the headbands I make for my daughter.  Just check out Addison's Hair Garden on Facebook!  Please share with your friends!