July 9, 2015 by Jolene

4th retrospective, and a four-legged good-bye

Thought I’d drop these off from our 4th of July weekend, which also included a celebration of Grandma’s birthday. (Corin: “How old is Grandma going to be?” Me: [a number that sounds pretty high at 5] Corin: “Oh my. I’m not ready for that yet.”) Lots of fun cousin time for the kiddos and lots of good food for everyone.

Radnor Lake from a quick. slightly rainy hike on Saturday afternoon

I knew when I took that last photo, of my dad with his guide dog, Chief, that it would probably be the last one of the two of them together. Chief is retiring from his life of faithful service and this weekend will be going to join his new family in west Nashville, where he will spend his retirement relaxing and playing with his people and their other two Vizslas. After that very painful parting, my dad will be heading up to Pilot Dogs, where he will meet his new guide dog and spend two weeks training before they travel home together. I think my dad would say partings are by far the hardest part of the otherwise remarkable experience of having a guide dog. It is no small thing to say farewell to a friend and companion who has been by your side nearly every moment for so many years. We’re all losing a member of the family. But Chief is 10, has arthritis and has earned his leisure years. We will miss you, buddy, and hope your days are full of love and joy. Don’t boss those young pups around too much.

June 3, 2015 by Jolene

Yep… It’s a rough patch.

This afternoon, weeks of thunderstorms finally cleared, and I decided we should greet our long-lost friend the sun with at least a short walk in the neighborhood. It was a great idea…in theory. It unfolded in the following way: We made it to the end of the street, me pushing the stroller with Lina, Corin riding his balance bike (because he’s not quite confident enough to tackle that new big boy pedal bike). Then, Corin wanted to turn left, and I decided to go right. He dealt with this disappointment by running his bike into the back of my leg, whereupon he immediately lost the use of the bike and was required to walk the remainder of our jaunt. The end result was a five-year-old wailing his way around the neighborhood at full volume. You’re welcome, residents of Gracelawn and Woodside Drives.

This came after a late morning grocery shopping trip in which my children pinched, shoved and kicked each other, both wailing loudly, in the front seat of the race car cart (another theoretically good idea), successfully making me the object of either pity or scorn from one end of Publix to the other.

Corin is really struggling right now. I think there is definitely some kindergarten-related anxiety, and he also may be missing his teachers and friends from the Pre-K he loved. He seems insecure and unsettled, and I’m not entirely sure how best to help him through whatever this is. We’re working on it.

There are some definite bright spots, though. Lina’s hair pulling is so much better. We had our GiGi’s Playhouse group this morning, and she didn’t terrorize the room! She was rambunctious and a little ornery, in typical two-year-old fashion, but the locks of children and adults remained unmolested. She is walking calmly across parking lots holding my hand, and don’t look now, but she hasn’t thrown her milk cup on the floor in days. Of course, there is the new shoving-her-plate-across-the-dinner-table thing, but we’re celebrating the victories, my friends.

I will leave you with this photo of Ms. Personality helping out during the presentation at GiGi’s this morning. When I look at this, I feel relatively confident we’re going to survive the summer. (I also feel relatively confident the toy picture on the screen did not look that creepy in person.)

May 10, 2015 by Jolene

Awesome moms

Prepare yourself; this one’s going to get sappy.

It’s Mothers’ Day, and I’ve got to tell you: I know a lot of awesome moms. I see so many of you, loving your kids with everything you have, making sacrifices that often go unnoticed, juggling a millions things no one else thinks about, ending your days utterly exhausted, but knowing in your bones that they are worth it. I see the look in your eyes when you watch your kids enjoy life with abandon and when they make you proud. I see your pain when your kids are sick and hurting and you can’t fix it for them. I see you worry as your kids grow and make choices and take risks.

There is a lot of legitimate criticism out there about ways modern parents screw up. I see plenty of that, too. Moms (and dads, too, but their day’s in June) have a hard slog trying to figure out how to make the right decisions for our kids. How do you keep them safe while encouraging independence? How do you show them love as you demonstrate consequences? How do you teach them to love God and serve others in a world obsessed with self? How do you shelter them while preparing them to live out there? It’s really hard; sometimes it about breaks your heart. Sometimes the simultaneous mundanity and enormity of the job is enough to bury you alive. Sometimes you really screw up.

But I see so many of you, making mistakes, getting beaten down, but carrying on out of the immense, undeniable force of a mother’s love. You encourage me and make me feel less alone. You give me hope that there are good parents in this world, raising kids who will make us proud. You give me the confidence to be boldly unapologetic in doing my best for my kids.

Of all the awesome moms I know, three in particular deserve special mention.

One mom gave me life and raised me to be the person I am. It may be a cliche, but being a mother really has given me new eyes to see my own beautiful mom. How much better I understand all that she poured into my brother and me. I am forever grateful for all she gave and continues to give, and now I treasure our friendship more than ever. I know she’s missing her own mom this year, and it reminds me how precious our time together really is.
One mom loved a couple microscopic clusters of cells enough to give them a chance at life with someone else, and now she loves from a distance a little girl who calls me “mama.” Laurie sent me a bouquet of flowers this Mothers’ Day, and it meant more than I can say. It took two moms to make Lina, and don’t you think I’ll ever forget it. (I’m sorry, Laurie – I know Dan is probably rolling his eyes at us again!)
One mom came to me by marriage, a mother-in-law who makes it impossible to relate to all those mother-in-law jokes. I have an inkling it may not be easy to cede the role of “chief woman in your son’s life” to someone else, but she has shown me such love and grace, and she has become a second mother and friend. She is a remarkable woman, and this weekend, we had extra reason to be incredibly proud of her as she graduated with her BSN.

I’ll leave you with pictures from our graduation celebration.

April 5, 2015 by Jolene

Easter

Easter has become one of my favorite holidays. We keep it pretty low-key, but the kids have such a great time, and we have had some fantastic conversations with Corin this week as we’ve read Bible verses about Jesus’ death and resurrection and talked about what it all really means. He understands so much more every year, and it’s such an amazing thing to watch him take it in.

As a big added bonus, my cousin and her kids are here visiting on spring break. The weather was really pleasant for this first Easter in the new house, so we got to do a real egg hunt in the back yard for the first time. And the final icing on the celebration: Lina’s donor family sent us a box of cascarones (confetti eggs) all the way from Texas. We’re still dropping bits of confetti around the house, like a little party that just keeps going.

It was a fun day.

Hard to believe that not long ago, this kid could hardly be bothered to look at a coloring book.

“Hey, Corin,” we said, “come take a picture hugging Lina.” She was pretty sure he was trying to strangle her, instead.

She’s coming for you, Chief.

March 18, 2015 by Jolene

A cold day at the zoo, or, happy birthday, Corin

Five years ago today, my son, my precious firstborn, made me a mom, and life has been so rich and full ever since. The pictures pretty much tell the story of how we’ve celebrated his actual birthday. Still to come: his favorite dinner of homemade mac and cheese.

They really do love each other.

This photo cracks. me. up.

Licking the frosting off the chocolate cupcake he picked out at Ivey Cake.

March 15, 2015 by Jolene

The boy who would grow up

So, it’s only been… how many weeks since my last post? Let’s just call that a blogging dry spell, shall we?

And now we’re moving on to talk about the fact that my eldest child is turning five on Wednesday. He’s spelling words – sounding them out, by himself! – and real, honest-to-goodness, five-days-a-week school is just a few short months away. I’m not entirely sure how any of this has happened, but it’s here, and I’m doing my best to keep up.

We celebrated with family today, and it was fantastic. Corin chose Peter Pan as the theme for his party. We kept things relatively low-key, but we did dress in costume, which was way fun.

I had to work to ignore the irony of planning a birthday party based on the boy who wouldn’t grow up. I tease Corin sometimes about trying to keep him little. “What if I put really heavy books on your head?” “What if I stopped feeding you all those healthy vegetables?” And he laughs and says, “No, I’ll just keep growing.” I feel keenly the shortness of these days. They are slipping through my fingers, and all I can do is snap photographs and say a prayer that I can hang on to the memories. These days are often hard and not at all glamorous, but they are precious to me.

Today, though, I have been reminded of what an incredible experience it is to watch a child grow and learn. It’s happening before my eyes. He’s taller, his face is leaner, he’s obsessed with superheroes and sword battles, he can spell “table” with minimal help. This year, I watched him anticipate and appreciate his birthday party in new ways. It is bittersweet, but there is joy in it.

For better or worse, our Peter Pan will grow up. It’s happening right now. (They Might Be Giants, anyone? “You’re older than you’ve ever been, and now you’re even older. And now you’re even older. And now you’re even older…”) I get my brief window to try to teach him things, to shape his character, to point him to the God who made Him and gives him a future. I’ll take it, and call it the privilege it is.

January 8, 2015 by Jolene

Halcyon days

We’re in a doctor’s office waiting area, surrounded by other parents and children. It’s been an exhausting morning getting out the door and to the appointment on time, but we’re here, and it’s a moment of rest sitting in the chair together before we’re called back to an exam room. I give her a drink of water. I talk to her, about anything; I make faces, and she imitates, wrinkles her nose. We sing “The Itsy, Bitsy Spider,” and she makes the motions. Then she leans in, wraps her arms around my neck and squeezes. Everything has faded, and there is just us, the two of us, in a tiny moment of perfection.

Lunch is over, the littlest is down for her nap, and now we’re ready for stories before his quiet time. He chooses two books, or maybe we negotiate and we each choose one from the overflowing shelves. We settle onto the couch under a blanket, and I read: about a snowy day, or about a woman who makes her mark with lupines or a father who takes his daughter owling in the night. He soaks in every word and studies every picture, as he always does. The house is silent except for this story. I pull him close and he snuggles his head against my chest. Someday soon, he’ll want to read these stories himself, and he won’t need me. Someday, he might not want to snuggle under the blanket and rest his head on me. Someday, but not today.

The laundry is piling up, as it always is, and stacks of folded clothes have to be put away. I carry a full basket up the stairs. I hear the racket from half-way up, and I walk to the room. He’s bouncing a ball as she tries to catch it, and they’re both racing around on all fours. He’s laughing hysterically, and she stops and reaches out to pat his leg. The shared affection is obvious. The moment of harmony is likely to be brief, but the love is there, and growing all the time. He leans in and gives her a kiss, and she laughs again.

A friend recently remarked that the parents she knows are all very articulate about the things that make parenthood hard but have trouble expressing why it’s so great. She’s right. There’s a lot out there these days about the things that are stressful and crazy and downright miserable about parenting (and there are plenty). I like that we can talk about and laugh at those things and find some solace in knowing we’re not alone in them. Those things are usually pretty tangible. It’s a lot harder to explain to someone without kids why it’s still all worth it. You end up sounding trite or vague or ridiculously sappy. Maybe it sounds like you’re bragging about your kids. It’s nearly impossible to convey the strength of the feelings that go bone-deep.

All I can do is share moments like these, when time stops, the world fades, and I think, “This. This is why I keep going.” These are the times that remind me that right now, right here, I’m living the halcyon days.

December 21, 2014 by Jolene

Breakfast with Santa

The kids had their Mother’s Day Out Christmas program on Friday. Corin sang with his class, we had brunch, and Santa made his appearance. It was a fun time, and Corin was especially thrilled that his Mimi made the long trip up just for the morning in order to be there.

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I have some bragging to do about a winter backpacking trip we took with the kids last weekend, but I have to get Jon to send me the few pictures we managed to take to provide photographic proof of our derring-do. Stay posted.

December 8, 2014 by Jolene

Trimming the tree

Christmas is finally in full swing around here. The tree is up, the decorating is (almost) done, and I’m finally in the spirit. (I was beginning to think we’d just have to celebrate in February, because it felt like it should still be October.)

For most of our married life and all of our children’s lives, we’ve had a fake “slim profile” tree, which was the only thing to fit in our tiny living room. This first Christmas in the new house marks the long-awaited return to a real tree. I had idealistic plans for a rooted tree that could be planted outside after the holiday, but our trip to a local nursery yesterday doused that dream in reality. Turns out, we had completely underestimated the size of the root ball for a 6-foot tree. As Jon emphatically pointed out – to my disappointed protests – there was no way we could lift that tree, much less carry it up the stairs and into the living room. I couldn’t reconcile myself to the tiny tree we might be able to lift (with still considerable effort), so we headed to the section with the cut trees and chose the modest (and considerably more maneuverable) Fraser fir which now adorns our living room. I keep breathing deeply; I’d forgotten how lovely that smell is. I even like that it’s a smidge crooked. Our simple tree’s not-perfection is just right.

The “ordaments” (Corin’s rendition) are a mishmash we’ve collected over the years. Some are cheap plastic, some are beautiful, delicate glass (located at the top of the tree these days), and some are rough, hand-made crafts covered in kids’ fingerprints. A big part of the Christmas tree tradition for me has always been unwrapping the same ornaments every December, the protective paper yellowing and eventually having to be replaced, the memories stacking atop one another as the years roll by. It was that way all through my childhood, and it’s one of my favorite parts of the holiday. Decorating the tree is always helter-skelter with small kids, but those ornaments and the attached memories are precious to me.

We are trying to keep things simple this year. There has been very little shopping, save a special outing with my dad. Relatives have been warned: prepare for homemade! It keeps holiday expenses more manageable, but really, I think I prefer it this way. (I can’t speak for how the relatives feel.)

So, here we go. The Christmas whirlwind whirls, and we do what we can to slow it down, grasping fleeting moments to stop and savor.

I’ve discovered the key to taking photos of my son. “Corin, whatever you do, don’t get in this picture.”

Getting a huge kick out of trying to eat the rocks

I mean, people, look at the size of those root balls!

In illustration of the usual state of my sinuses, Corin insisted the delicate tea pot ornament was a neti pot.

Yes, Lina decorated the tree without a shirt. No, I don’t really know why.

A new favorite from last year: father-son hiking boots

“The Night Before Christmas”

October 2, 2014 by Jolene

The gods we have made

A good friend posted this link earlier today: How American Parenting is Killing the American Marriage. It is well worth the short read. It got me thinking about some broader issues.

Our society is struggling with a very serious expectations problem. It’s not just parenting; it’s life. For your first clue, look no further than the continually expanding expense and ritual associated with weddings and baby showers. From the get-go, we set up the expectation that marriage and parenthood (and on a lesser scale, other life accomplishments and milestones) will bring us bone-deep happiness and fulfillment. We get the message they are SUPPOSED to. So what does it mean when marriage and career and parenthood turn out to be really hard?

As a commenter on my friend’s Facebook post mentioned, it’s very similar to the problem of body image. We are comparing our lives to an unattainable, airbrushed ideal that doesn’t exist. I think previous generations may have understood better than we do: life isn’t about the perfect marriage and perfect family (or perfect house, etc.). It’s about making wise choices, working really hard, and living according to a guiding set of principles and values.

I find my purpose in serving a God who loves me passionately. He asks me to pass that love on to others. When I put my focus there, it keeps the rest of life in its proper perspective. My world isn’t shaken when the kids are driving me nuts and my husband and I argue. Life is hard! We can save each other a lot of heartache by being honest: marriage and family are so important, and yes, there is fulfillment there. But they will not supply your need for purpose and meaning. They shouldn’t have to, because the authors of the parenting article are right: That’s when we elevate these institutions to the status of religion.

We’ve gotten a warped picture of happiness. We need to unplug, stop comparing, and stop straining for an unattainable ideal. Happiness is a choice we make because we believe in things bigger than ourselves, because we find purpose in serving larger ideals, and because we understand what really matters. I think deep down, we all know this, but we get lost in the beautiful illusions of perfection. It’s okay to have lovely family photos and to honor the joy we take in loved ones (and careers and hobbies…). But I’m pleading with you, friends: Don’t look to these things for purpose. It will leave you frustrated, empty and depressed. There is a better way to live. There is ultimate contentment in knowing a deeper purpose and keeping everything else in its place.

A Dash of the Unexpected

a story unfolding

Category Archives: Parenting