Lost My Balance, Found Seasons Instead.

There is so much talk in the world today about "finding balance."

Well, I'm just feeling so unbalanced lately... I really need to just even my life back out.
'My life will be so much better when I find a man who balances me.'
I need to find a balance with my job...

Blah blah blah blah...

Either I am way more like my father than I care to admit or "having a balanced life" is pretty much a load of garbage.  Much like the load of garbage sold to young girls about there actually being a perfect man out there in the world.  Or the load of garbage sold to teenage boys that Axe Body Spray makes beautiful women want you so much their clothes fall off when you walk by.

My life has never been "balanced."  And I don't ever foresee it being that way.  I am passionate.  And I am a visionary.  And I am an artist and a mother and a wife and a triathlete and a Christian and a friend and a sister and a professional presenter and a teacher (kind of) and a cook and a laundry-doer and a coupon-clipping grocery shopper and a DGL Coordinator and a...

And if I fit my definition of "balanced," I would be able to wake up at 4 am to write for 3 hours before the kids wake up, do a load of laundry every day (yes, get it into and out of the washer and dryer, folded, ironed, put away...), do the dishes directly after every meal, have the dishwasher unloaded and ready to have dishes put in it, have a healthy breakfast, lunch, and dinner, work out to train for a triathlon for 1.5 hours every day, play with my kids every day.  Teach them something every day.  Read every day.  Clean every room of the house once a week.  Volunteer at the nursing home once a week.  Present for MOPS once a month.  Present for CollegeBoard once a month.  Spend time talking or participating in an activity with my husband every day.  Call my mother, father, brothers, sisters-in-law once a week.  Get Daniel to school on time with his hat and mittens and snowpants. Remember everyone's birthdays and send them cards on time. Plan ahead enough to take a decent family picture for Christmas cards before Christmas Day rolls around.  Spend time with friends.  Go to play dates a couple times a week.  Go to church.  Volunteer at church.  Be in a book club.  Be in a writer's group. Blog....

Balance, to me, means that I am able to do all of the things I love AND all of the things I have to do just to get by.

And, you know what?

There are 24 hours in a day. I am a raging lunatic if I don't sleep.  And something's gotta give.

If I am going to ever finish this book, then my kids will wake up some days with no clean clothes; the dishes will sit in the sink until Jeff comes home; dinner will be something I can make in 15 minutes, the amount of time that I spend working out will be much less than the amount of time I spend drinking coffee and staring at a blank computer screen, and sometimes I will forget the Hershey Kiss roses we made for Danny's teacher.

And when the book is written, I will spend a large amount of time working out, training for a tri.  And I won't write.  And then it will be baseball season and Jeff will be gone lots of nights, and I'll drag the boys to a bunch of baseball games...And after the tri is done, then it will be August, and I will present for the CollegeBoard in Texas all August long.  And then I won't have written for a couple of months and I'll feel all "unbalanced" because I'm not using my brain.  So I'll seek out several groups of people to help me use my brain...

And this is just how life is.  Season after season... Busy with everything, then bored and lonely with nothing.  And chasing after balance just makes me feel like I'm doing it wrong.

But I don't think I'm doing it wrong.  I am just doing my best to live the life that God gave me.

And that looks more like  Ecclesiastes 3. 1-8 than as my friend, Matt Colley says, "a rolling ball of zen in a world of chaos."

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
With that, I will stop this pointless chasing after balance and just live trying to get the timing right... Healing when it is Healing's season, Laughing when it is Laughing's season... Writing when it is Writing's season... Playing when it is the Playing season... Last time I checked, none of those are listed on the calendar, so the beautiful thing is that I will only know what season it is when the season arrives.

And while I have a favorite season, I only love the Fall because it is so refreshing after a long hot summer, and I only love the winter because you can't ski without snow and it doesn't snow in the summer.  And I only love Spring because it means the Winter is over....

While this season may be long and difficult, inspiring and insightful, it is a season, and unlike the dirty laundry and dishes, someday it will be done.

Life Cycle of a Stay at Home Mom.

Mom Thought: Gosh, I used to use my brain a lot more than I do now.  I'm kind of bored.  Maybe I should find a volunteering opportunity or pick up a part time job or start a blog or doing something creative.  


After getting a part-time job and starting something creative...

Someone at the job says, "You're doing a really great job with this, and we'd like to give you more responsibility.  We really need you to pick up some more hours.  Can you do that for us?"

Mom Thought: Well, I only did this so I could help out the family with some extra cash and use my brain, but I don't want to let them down, so OK."


Someone at the preschool says, "You are so organized, would you mind helping out with our fund-raiser?"

Mom Thought: Well, it IS a good cause, and I wanted to help out more by volunteering...


A friend says, "Do you want to be a part of our book club?  I know how you love to read."

Mom Thought: It WOULD be really good for my brain, and I think it would challenge me.


The blog she created on a whim, thinking it would be easy to continue sits, loomingly un-updated since the first entry, and it calls to her, "You have 'followers.'  They are waiting on you to write something in here."


Mom Thought: I really miss hanging out with good friends.  Maybe I should join a Mommy Group.  I do have Fridays available.


Mom can't figure out why she's been so stressed and yelling at her kids more and freaking out about lunches not getting packed or why getting coats on and getting out the door is so stressful or why she just can't take one more annoying thing in her life.


Kids say, "Mama, we MISS you.  Are you going to another meeting?"

Mom thinks: What did I get myself into?  Should I be taking on all of these things?  I miss my kids.  I need to spend more time with them.  Maybe I should get rid of some of these responsibilities.  I have been pretty stressed lately.  It's just too much.


Mom says to the job, pre-school, Mommy group, and book club, "You know, I am just taking on too many responsibilities right now, and I can't juggle them all at once.  My family is suffering and, I just can't take on all of these things, so I can't volunteer.  I can't work more hours, and I'm not going to make it to book club this time."

Three weeks later...

Mom thinks: I'm kinda bored.  I'm really going to get going on this blog.  And now that I'm not working so much, I COULD actually do that pre-school fund-raiser thing...

Friday Night with the Hoo's.

Every Hoo down in Broomhooville, the tall and the small peeked out their windows to watch the snow fall.
"Dat one, I yike dat one," Nolan Hoo said with a shout.
"The one I like is better," Danny Hoo boasted without a doubt.

The snow fell and fell, drifting by and by
Until the biggest snow piles were taller than the smallest Hoo
when they stood side by side.

So in the warmth of our home,
we cozied up with some soup,
Papa's potato, to be precise,
We were warm, we were cozy,
In fact, the snow was quite nice.

We danced in the kitchen to oldies with glee
Because mama said that we couldn't turn on the TV.
So Daddy strolled around, guitar in hand
So little boys could "dance" around the land.

With moves like the Nolan two-step,
which is just marching up and down,
Or Danny just spinning around and around.

And then, whose idea it was is unknown,
But the decision was made for a Toga Party in our home.
So cute were the little Hoo's tripping over their attire
We giggled and giggled until our sides were on fire.

In the morning we didn't arise and hold hands around a tree.
It wasn't Christmas, and we didn't sing.
But Mama Hoo was not a Grinch when she awoke that day,
Who knew she didn't need coffee?  She just needed to play.

The Trick to Cuter (and better-behaved) Kids!

So... my kids have gotten cuter in the past few weeks.

They're not any different.  They don't look differently or act differently or speak differently, but they are much much cuter.

And it has way more to do with how I see them than it does with how they are.

I am finding out what everyone's been telling me their whole lives... I have really cool kids.  I always knew this on some level, but I just couldn't see it.

I was too busy trying to build them into what I thought they should be.  Too busy trying to make them fit the mold of well-behaved, good-charactered children to see who they are and see who God made them to be.  I was too busy trying to succeed at motherhood to look at them and enjoy who they are.  Too worried about whether or not others thought I was a good mom.  Trying so hard to earn the, "Your children are so well-behaved.  You are such a great mom." compliments.

But the thing is, when I am not so uptight about their behavior and how they make me look... they behave better than when I am uptight about it.  When I take the time to sit and listen to them and answer their questions and hear about how Daniel pretended to be Yoshi, then Bowser, then Toad, then Donkey Kong, then Yellow Yoshi, Pink Yoshi, and Jr. Bowser this morning, but he can't decide who he's going to be after lunch. And when I take the time to play with him and be Daisy or Princess Peach (which, by the way I have no idea how to do), he looks at me with beautiful blue eyes and says, "I love you so much, Mama."  And, while I generally find the whole pretending games to be pretty annoying because for Daniel, it's more about choosing the characters (and changing his mind about it) than actually playing, now I realize that it's an odd and endearing quirk that someday will translate into something really cool.

And I don't have to worry about that, because, while he is my son, my brain, my heart, my everything is not in him.  His brain, his heart, his everything is in him.  This is a weird phenomenon that happens when you have a child and you don't know it's going to happen or when it is happening, but when we become parents, at some point, someone actually has to tell us this obvious thing that our sons and daughters have their own thoughts and emotions, etc.

And when I just hug Nolan when he needs a hug and just watch him (because he doesn't want me to talk to him or play with him usually), he laughs even more belly laughs and snuggles even better snuggles.

And when I look at them with these eyes, with the "you are... who you are" eyes, I see beautiful children who I really like to spend time with.  And I don't need anyone to tell me that I'm doing a good job.  I don't need anyone to notice that I work hard to care for them.

Because when I see them as people, I can appreciate them.  When I see them as walking compilations of my successes, faults, or failures, they are no longer people, just the things I wish I had done better.  I really really like looking at them and seeing a tall gangly blond 4 year old kid with the vocabulary and spiritual inquiry of a college student and a stocky, giggly ham who loves to snuggle with nigh-night, make people laugh, and irritate his older brother.  It is way more fun to just be a parent to two goofy kids than it is to look at my kids and only see the things that are wrong with me and how I do things.

I'm saying this all in past tense as though I'll never go back there again, as though I'll never get too busy to appreciate my children again, as though I'll never try to control how they interpret things or see things or say things, etc.  But I know I will.  I know I won't see them with the "right" eyes all of the time, but just knowing that when I do see them with the "right" eyes, we all have more fun together is a big incentive.

Because Someday They'll Be Big.

So, the other day, before Dr. Mario could eradicate all of the viruses from our home, the boys and I decided that it would be fun to watch Toy Story 3 together.

And you see, I blubber like a baby when I watch this show.  The first part gets me all teary, the home movies of a little boy playing, taken, I'm sure when the mom or dad had just enough time to think, Gosh, this is cute.  I bet I'll want to remember how cute he was someday. 

But then the reality hits that the little boy is big.  He's going off to college.  His room probably smells like a hockey bag.  And as the cute little boys and I snuggle on the couch all achy and sick, I look over at their cute crusty noses and sob and think, someday they're not gonna want to snuggle on the couch with me anymore.  They'll be big and smell like boy and they'll be too embarrassed to hug me.


So, of course, Nolan points to my face, frowns and says, "Crying, Mama.  Cry."  And Daniel, sensitive soul that he is, says, "Mama!  Why are you crying?!"

"Because, honey, someday you will be big, and you won't want to hug me."

"Can I hug you now, Mama?"

"Of course you can, honey, of course you can."

Not to be outdone by his older brother, Nolan comes barreling onto my lap, "Me too, Mama.  Meeee tooooo!"  The pushing and shoving of brotherhood already in full swing.

"I will hug you when I get big, Mama."  Daniel says, so concerned.  His blue eyes big and sincere.
"Me too, Mama.  Me too," says Nolan.

Funny, I don't believe them.  Not that they don't mean it.  They just don't know what it means to be a teenager yet.  They just don't know the long winding road they have ahead of them.

Just like I, most times, don't know what it means to "cherish them while they're young."  Because right now they're so... crusty-nosed and whiny and oatmeal-smearing and juice-spilling... But they're also... crusty-nosed and oatmeal-smearing... And it's cute, the noses.  The innocence.  The bubble bath-smelling.

And I know I should see them as their adorable selves more often, appreciate the way that they are now with sleepy-head hair, dinosaur t-shirt and diaper, bright orange shorts combined with a button-down Cars pajama top...

I should appreciate their goofy little kid quirks and strange way they see the world.  I should look at Nolan needing to be snuggled and Danny wanting to play with me as opportunities to love, not interruptions to something I have to get done because...

Someday they'll be big and smelly.

Mario World Pictures

My son has an obsession... And I may feed it, or support it, or, I don't know, but you see, my husband has appointed me "Head of the Department of Fun" in our family.  As you can see from the pictures below, I take my job very, very seriously.

 Here are the (from L to R) Yoshi, Princess Peach, Mario, and Luigi costumes I made the family for Halloween this year.  I got one idea and then another and another, and I was having a good time, so we dressed up the whole family!  This may be where I began to feed the obsession.

When I began brainstorming ideas about Daniel's  birthday party, I  started with the Petey Piranhas.  You see, they were the only decorations I was going to do.  Cheap.  Easy.  Cute.  Fun.

But then I realized that making some mushrooms would be cute and easy too.

And we ran out of red construction paper, so then came the  1ups.

And what is a Mario Party without Goombas?

And, of course, every party is a better party with a cup full o' mustaches.

And the construction paper decor just keeps going....

And going...

This is where the kids played "Be Yoshi and Get the Goombas" by knocking over the Goombas with their  "Yoshi Tongues."

And, of course our Super Mario World Adventure included  gathering coins and star cookies from various question mark boxes throughout Super Mario World.

Daniel's favorite part!

Nolan doing what he does best... Destroying cupcakes.

Even the Mario Characters were all partied out by the end.

This Head of the Department of Fun declares creating a small piece of Mario World a  "Super Fun Adventure."  I may have had more fun than the kids... It's pretty cool when the nostalgic childhood memories for a parent connect with her child, because this was super fun for me.

Mario World turns into Mario Hospital.

So, a week ago, our home was transformed into the Super Mario Brothers Super World.  We had mustaches, Goombas, Mushrooms (no, not that kind-- it was a kid's party for crying out loud!), Petey Piranhas, 1ups, question mark boxes filled with coins and star cookies, and even Princess Peach was taken into Bowser's castle so our little Marios and Luigis could rescue her and receive prizes. 


One day later, it became Super Mario Hospital housing patients with the flu, conjunctivitis, and strep.  Poor Dr. Mario (Jeff) was the only mostly healthy one of the bunch, able to avoid the truck that ran me over and left bones aching that I, didn't know I had.  Dr. Mario also did an amazing job making at least 14 viruses disappear in the middle of the night as Yoshi (Daniel) vomited them out all night long. Baby Mario (Nolan), however, decided to hoard some viruses in his eye after an allergic reaction to adult soap.  


Nurse Peach (me) decided it was time to get to the bottom of all the sickness, so she enlisted the help of Dr. Luigi at the Urgent Care.  When it was revealed that the Strep-io bacteria was the cause of apple-sized tonsils and a very strange voice in Nurse Peach, she decided to eradicate the Strep-io by checking  Yoshi and Baby Mario's tonsils as well.  


So after getting more pills for Dr. Mario2 to make the bugs disappear, Nurse Peach began to investigate.  She did major observance of Yoshi and Baby Mario. What she found was not surprising.  Yoshi does quite well with the elbow coughing and runny nose wiping, even if he does stick his tongue out an inordinate amount.  However, Baby Mario's hygene seemed to be alarmingly bad.  You see, he puts small objects, like his toy tow truck, Mater, into his Gatorade and pulls it out to lick the Gatorade off of this toy truck.  Then, he places his dirty, stew-covered spoon back in the drawer with the clean silverware.


I am curious as to how many times he has done this.  He did it so quietly and   
quickly that I am sure this was not the first time, and I am sure the silverware drawer was filthy before I discovered this little problem.  At least the silverware drawer has been disinfected.  Now on to disinfecting the rest of the house.  I think Nurse Peach needs one of those invincibility stars.