As we drove past one of the many ponds in our neighborhood, our son wondered, “How is that tree not falling into the water?” He was referring to a tree living on the edge of the sloped shoreline. My answer was simple. “Its roots.” Hidden under the murky water was a steadfast tangle of roots — the small tree’s anchor. It immediately became metaphoric to me, symbolic of the essence of parenthood. We work tirelessly below the surface, planting the firmest foundation we possibly can for our children. We dig into the proverbial soil to nourish our kids with all they need for growth, development, repair, and stability. Day after…
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Dear Kindergarten Teacher (My Last Letter)
Dear Kindergarten Teacher, Hello. It’s me again. How’s my favorite superhero? I love that summer rewards you with the simplest lesson plan… R-E-C-E-S-S written across several weeks worth of calendar squares. Carefree. Playful. I can hear the exhale. You get to trade ABC’s for Vitamin D, sight words for sightseeing, and circle time for YOU time. It is the perfect perk of your paramount profession. I really hope the livin’ has been easy this summertime. As a new school year approaches, I am sending this letter with a medley of emotions. It is the last letter you will receive from me because SHE is the last kiddo you will receive…
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Your 9th Birthday
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. And today, my beautiful daughter, you are illuminating the skies of life as you glow at high noon — halfway between the dawn and dusk of your childhood. You are turning nine, which in turn leaves only nine years to go. Then our 7-pound, 12-ounce bundle of joy becomes an all-grown-up bundle of adult. So here we are, smack in the middle of you being a kid. Such an AWESOME kid. And I have been afforded the gigantic pleasure of holding onto every little moment with you. Holding you in the wee hours of those…
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Snails on Jetliners
I have the perfect analogy for parenthood — We are snails on jetliners. At full sprint, a garden snail moves about 1.3 centimeters per second. It would take this little mollusk two whole hours to cross a football field. Slow, slow, slow. Parenting can feel like that. One day is pretty much equivalent to eighty million eternities when raising children. We have been afforded life’s most beautiful responsibility, but it is a daily (if not minute-to-minute) test of endurance and patience. I am convinced that early-onset sleep deprivation sets the pace, and we just creep along from there. There is nothing expeditious about toddler tantrums or teenage attitudes or infinity…
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Dear 2020 Kindergarten Teacher
Dear Kindergarten Teacher, Hello again. Some time has passed since I last wrote to you — approximately a hundred eternities if you consider the last few months. I hope this letter finds you well, in every sense of the word. Let me thank you (for the umpteenth time) for nurturing our firstborn’s mind and heart two years ago. Her chair was small, your energy was big, and together you chicka-chicka-boom-boomed through SUCH a fantastic kindergarten year. This momma is forever grateful. When “school-as-we-once-knew-it” came to a grinding halt this spring, I thought about you. I thought about March 12, 2020 being the last date in your classroom’s pocket calendar. I…
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Three Gracos
When I look back, I see three Gracos. Bulky, crumb-filled reminders of the road I am currently navigating — motherhood with little kids. Not little in the sense of bottles or diapers or insane sleep deprivation (I already earned that gold star, thank you very much)… but little enough to require five-point harnesses, 5T clothing, and 500% of my energy. As I stare at those [rarely empty] car seats, I inevitably hear the sentimental warning. You know the one. “Enjoy it, momma. It goes so fast.” Then I sigh. Because truth be told, I don’t always enjoy it. Time actually goes painstakingly slooooow when you’re in the thick of littleness.…
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Dear Kindergarten Teacher
Dear Kindergarten Teacher, I have written this letter a hundred times in my head. An ever-evolving mental rough draft, anticipating every detail of a far-off, “someday” reality that now stares me square in the eyes. Kindergarten. Our firstborn. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. Hello, my name is Mommy. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Let me just start with — I really hope your summer was adventurous and relaxing and splendid. You sooooo deserve it. Your work is full and tireless, and you fully deserve to be less tired. I hope this summer gave you that… and more. Welcome to a new school…
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Never Let Go Of Me
Vacation Bible School started on Monday. And literally out of the clear blue, my emotions tapped me on the shoulder and asked to cut in. A hard swallow. ✔️ Misty eyes. ✔️ A pattering heart. ✔️ All the feelings, all unexpected, all at day-one drop-off, all triggered by a song. I mean, a variety of things could have precipitated this sudden sentimental surge… like how ginormous their extra small t-shirts looked on them — my hair ties pulling the excess fabric into 100% cotton ponytails. Or how our 3-year-old boy bravely walked into an unfamiliar classroom with a quiet confidence, turning back for a reassuring hug and an “I love…
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Bathroom Besties
Dear Mom Who Just Wants to Brush Her Teeth and Maybe Apply Some Wrinkle Cream, Your bathroom is fascinating. You are fascinating. You + your bathroom = so ridiculously fascinating. Plus there’s that mysterious magnetic force that yanks your children from Point A (any place inside your house) to Point B (your fascinating bathroom) at the faintest dripdripdrip of the faucet. BAM! There they are. Flush any hope of alone time down the john. Your wide-eyed audience awaits you. So grab them a couple step stools and a palette of washable face paint… and embrace the fact that a “kitty cat” and “monster truck” love you and won’t always find…
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The “Mother’s Kiss”
It was bound to happen, and this morning… it did. A foreign object up the nose. More specifically, a Cheerio — lodged in the right nostril of our “curious” three year old. First I heard an “ehhhhhhhh,” which left me more annoyed than alarmed, considering lil’ guy has recently become fluent in Whine. Then he informed me that a piece of cereal had found its way into one of his orifices. I felt a twinge of mommy guilt… and I leapt into action. I knew EXACTLY what to do. No really, I did! You see, just three days ago a friend shared a video claiming, “This Weird Parenting Hack Can…
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The Love is Equal
I’m guessing most parents do it. Probably teachers too. We call our children by every wrong name — our brains aimlessly flipping through the Rolodex — before landing on the child’s actual name. You know, the name they were given at birth, by which they have been addressed… I dunno… since always! “Stacy…… Keith….. Lesley….. Whoever You Are….. NATALIE!” Why does this happen? Are we THAT tired?!?! Once upon a time I heard a perfectly perfect explanation for this common slip of the tongue, and whether or not it’s supported by actual psychological research… who cares. I like it. We erroneously spew a string of incorrect names prior to [ding,…
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Three Under Five
A friend told me that writing is a lot like a time capsule — it provides tangible evidence of life’s accumulated moments. It enables the past to be present in the future. It helps us remember. So I write… because I want to remember. I want to remember THIS. Her, him, and her. At this age; at this time. I want to remember the enveloping fullness of having three children under the age of five. Three. Under five. Such hugeness in such littleness. Never in my life have I felt so bone-tired, so consumed, so stretched, so bonkers, so monotonous, and so daggone needed for… every… single… thing. It’s as…
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Birth Order – The Honest Truth
First child = Velvety soft highchair cover with an eye-popping chevron pattern; Sesame Street stick-on placemat with engaging educational designs; bright-colored toys that suction to the table and enhance hand-eye coordination; plant-based/hypoallergenic wipes; sippy cup connected to a no-drop leash, filled with purified nursery water; homemade puréed organic sweet potatoes; five extra bibs with catchy little phrases like “My cape is on backwards.” Second child = Placemat made of unfolded paper napkin; whatever Gerber baby food was on sale; hand-me-down teething toy that managed to survive the three-second rule. Third child = This.
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My Classroom of 3
Five years ago, I bid adieu to teaching. I instructed my last lesson, graded my last paper, and hugged my last student. A beautiful career of ten years under my belt — a beautiful growing baby under there too. It was time to be what I always wanted to be when I grew up. So I traded school for home and gratefully welcomed my new job title. Mommy. My classroom of 24 became a classroom of just one — with two new kiddos eventually added to the roster. My massive teacher salary (hardy har har) dwindled to a whopping $0.00. And my highly anticipated summers off… well, they were replaced…
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Row 7 Seat B
“The world’s greatest flyers fly American.” Umm, no — no they don’t. Not on July 5, 2017… and not in row 7 seat B. You see, we were THAT family with THAT kid. The “terrible 2’s” were in full effect… times one million trillion, and skydiving from 36,000 feet never sounded more appealing. I mean, who needs truck magnets, truck stickers, endless snacks, iPad games, or in-flight movies when it’s waaaaaaaay more fun to karate kick the TV monitor, clickclickclick the seatbelt buckle 924 times, say NO to ev–er–y–thing, open/close/open/close the tray table, refuse to remain seated, lose all vertebrae function when placed back in the seat, fall out of…
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Full Hands, Full Heart
Two lovely older ladies and I crossed paths during a neighborhood walk this morning. My preschooler and toddler were in the double stroller, and my infant was strapped to my chest. With loving-kindness (and perhaps a dose of pity) in their voices, the ladies remarked… “Gosh, you sure have your hands full.” It’s not the first time I’ve heard that. Actually, I’ve heard it on the regular lately. At the grocery store… on the soccer field… in the doctor’s office… at the park… and pretty much anywhere I’m spotted with my three kids in tow. [How disheveled do I look, y’all?!] Each time it’s the same observation, “You really have…
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As Easy As #1, #2, #3
I signed up for this. Yep, sure did. Used permanent marker and everything. #2 was rearin’ to go in the 5AM hour (ahhhgain), with #1 and #3 quick on his heels, darkness mocking us through the window. With her 3AM smorgasbord erased from her memory, #3 was amped up for breakfast while #1 and #2 were just amped up — lap after obnoxious lap around our house on their riding toys — darkness still pointing and snickering. #1 and #2 played, whined/argued, got dressed, whined/argued, watched a show, whined/argued, made a flipping mess of our house, whined/argued, and rounded out the morning with some whining and arguing. #1 eventually left…
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Happy Mother’s Day
We can read books. We can solicit advice. We can pray. Each is helpful. All are wonderful. Yet – for me – one of the most valuable tools in learning to become a loving, devoted, and passionate mom is… being in the presence of a loving, devoted, and passionate mom. Even as wide-eyed children, we may not see it until hindsight is 20/20. I see it now. Good gracious was my mom good and gracious!! Her name is Momma. She is mine. Well, not entirely. I share her with three of my best friends. Her KAOTIC4. We were her sunshines, her only sunshines… her top priority… the pleasure of her…
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My SAHM Vent
Like every good book, let me begin with a preface. (1) I love my children. Madly. (2) I have chosen – of my own free will – to be home with my kiddos. SAHM is an acronym for which I am both fortunate and grateful. (3) The good days supersede the bad. (4) My husband is a rockstar teammate. Rockstar. (5) Our village is inhabited by ridiculously awesome people. (6) Life is good. It really, really is. [End preface] OK, now it’s time to be really frank. Frankly, it’s time to be real. Staying home with kids is H-A-R-D. There are days – and many moments during those days –…