A new story...

As much as I feel like these years are quickly passing and all the early years are becoming faint, like pencil in an old notebook. I'm somehow loving all these newer stages that come forth. And in the process, I'm learning how to adjust to their growth and development. Maybe, they might not hang onto my every word anymore, but I get to see all these new qualities emerge. Like, my daughter's sudden love of writing. Lately, besides reading, she can be found penning many short stories in her notebook. Of course, the majority of the words are phonetically written and the run on sentences are vast, but this notebook is something that will eventually be stored away. Tightly packed, with all her special childhood belongings that I hope to bring out on a much later time.  And many years from now, maybe when she's a successful blogger, author, or vlogger, we'll sit down on the couch and reminiscence of this time. A time that seemed so long ago.

A girl, coming into her own...

I could remember a time when my daughter wasn't even a year old. She would sit on the floor of her bedroom, surrounded by stacks of books and her little head was barely visible over the height. When I would lean against the doorway, I could clearly see her larger than life blonde pony tail sitting high above the towering books and showing her presence. 

She would sit for hours, delicately turning each page, as she "read" every book on her shelf. She already had a massive vocabulary and even said 2-3 word sentences, so I would nestle beside her, as she told me what was happening in the story. 

This memory remains the most vivid out of all my memories with her. It reminds me of a time when she was just learning to walk. When she was trying to reach a stage of independence outside of crawling capabilities. But even when she would take those wobbly first steps towards freedom, she would still reach for my outstretched arm that always waited for her, pulling her close to my heart. 

Finding her in that spot was as predictable as the sun rising. Her love of books is something she was born with. It wasn't acquired as time passed. From day one, she had this inner yearning to read, write, and speak (and not in that order). And even when I read to her as an infant or even 4 months +, she would calmly sit on my lap and intently listen to each word on each page. She never became impatient and hurried through the story.

Now I find a girl, with much longer dark blonde hair, sitting nestled on the edge of her bed, patiently sounding out the hardest of words for her age. She tries and tries, as she perseveres through each page, reading harder and harder books. Then, she pulls out the easier, Step to Reading Batman books, and calls for her little brother, so she can read some of his favorite books to him... And he eagerly rests his head on her shoulder and hangs onto her every word.

Here she is, newly 6 years old and reading above average for her age group. Always wanting to learn more and read more. Always wanting to know the whys and whats of the world and diligently thumbing through all the appropriate books, seeking answers.

Everywhere I look, I find notes and letters taped to the walls. Some lay on the floor beneath the table and others are spread across table tops. Most are happy pictures of houses, sunshine, and flowers with words labeling each item. Others are love letters to me, her brother, and her kindness elves.

She plays school in her playroom, and sits at the front of the classroom in her chair, reading to each student. And written in pencil on the wall beside her, is a list of all her student's names, so she doesn't forget who to call on.

At only 6 years old, it seems like she grew up overnight. She no longer watches cartoons or plays with action figures. These once beloved activities are replaced with watching tween shows like The Thundermans and Henry Danger, and teaching her class.

It seemed like when I closed my eyes to sleep one night, upon opening them, it all changed. I still see that little girl sitting among the stacks of books or her wobbly first steps. But, she no longer does. She sees a girl who talks about funny things her friends say at school, then when I ask about it, she says, "oh mom, you wouldn't get it." 

Over the years, I've grown so accustom to the familiar steps of each day. The routines of life that include my every need. But, now she's coming into her own and the process of independence aches my heart. I want to follow behind her, holding onto her every move. But I know, deep down, the best thing is to step back and allow her the room to proceed. 

But, in the darkness of the shadows where I lurk, I'm holding onto every stage that is happening before my eyes. I pay attention to all the details that surround our everyday. While, keeping a photographic memory log of our story. Like, how she lines up all her dolls and gently places sheets of school paper for each of them to work on. How she tells her class to always use kind words and how she never wants a student to feel unappreciated. 

I try to push away the reality that she is away from me, more than she's with me. So, I hold onto the moments where I feel whole. Like, these memories of her among the stacks of books. When, our days had no boundaries or time constraints. When we weren't caught between playing outside past dark or doing homework.

These days seem to move quicker than I can memorize them. Right when I become comfortable with a stage, it feels like it immediately changes. And the image that I held onto for so long has been replaced by something new.

But somehow, everything is still the same, and at the same time, everything is different.

However, I save up all these moments, adding them to the millions of others that are forever ingrained in my heart. And down the road, I'll come back to this very moment. 

Because, I always do.

Mid Week Humor: One of the many ironies of Motherhood...

If you want to get all green lights while driving, I recommend that you promise one of your children you'll help them with something at the next red light. To add a little more spice, promise the younger one. You know, the one with the less mature psyche. That way, when you never hit a red light, you'll be able to cherish the irony of all the crying... Motherhood.

The Happy Days Blog

Fall fun excursions...

On Sunday, in between the rain storms and cold weather, we went to our local farm for some fall fest activities. All the local farms in my area have some sort of fall activity on their grounds during this time of the year. Whether, it's just apple picking, hay rides, corn mazes, sand pits, or a full fledged campfire among the corn fields, there's something going on. Either way, in the month of October, everyone's weekends consists of one of these places. 

The sun peeked out a few times while we were there, causing us to easily get heated in our winter coats, hats, and gloves. But as soon as the sun hid behind the clouds, the cool air rapidly kissed off our faces.

My children immediately raced through a little string maze that sat right on the edge of the parking lot. They bobbed and weaved through all the small pathways, trying to find their way to the end. My son struggled through a few spots, and stood still, waiting for his sister to come rescue him. Which of course, she did.

They then jumped in piles of hay and ran through the hay stack maze with the rest of the children at the place (I don't have a picture of this because, it was too chaotic). Which, this part didn't sit well with a helicopter mom like myself. I envied all the parents who were able to just sit back on the benches and watch from afar, while their children played. I, instead, hovered around and constantly called out to them when I couldn't see them for more than 2 seconds. It eventually turned into a game of Marco Polo. And if I could have fit in there, you bet your ass, I would have walked beside them. Of course, that would have elicited the response, "we're ok mom. I got it," from my daughter.

After they finished giving me a stroke, we loaded up on the tractor driven flat bed, found our hay bail to sit on, then drove off to the pumpkin patches.

We sang songs, created spooky stories, and played eye spied. Thankfully, there was only another family on the ride, but I still think they thought we were weird. Especially when my mom and I started singing, Let it Go. 

Loudly.

When the ride stopped, we walked down the white wooden attached latter, into the pumpkin patch. Only for my children to pick the largest pumpkins in the field, in 10 seconds. 

26 & 30 pound pumpkins, to be exact.

After we wheeled them away in a wagon, my daughter and son led us to the corn maze. This was the part of the day, where we followed the directions of a 6 year old and almost 4 year old. What could possibly go wrong?

And surprisingly, they agreed on all the directions they would go. 

I really thought it would end with one of them running off in an opposite direction, topping my blood pressure off for the day. 

After a gazillion wrong turns and a few dozen dead ends and three corn mazes later, we finished. Well technically, we walked out of the side of the last one, but nonetheless, we finished them. 

And, they loved every second of them...

Finally, we loaded up in the car and headed to eat some pancakes for dinner at a little local restaurant, towards the edge of town.

Our day was complete. The mission was finished. We had many laughs, absorbed beautiful scenery, found enormous pumpkins, and undertook some pretend adventures.

Childhood... Simple.

Always our style.

Amusement park bust...

The weather this weekend was a cloudless blue sky with temperatures in the mid 60s. A beautiful, textbook, fall day. With the month of October passing by at an alarming rate, we only have 2 more weekends left to fit in all of our fall style excursions. So, we decided to seize the opportunity of a non rainy day and go to our local amusement park for their annual Halloween Fest. 

After a week of illness, I was excited to get out of town and spend the day outdoors, to cleanse our airways. The drive there is gorgeous in the fall. The two lane country roads are lined with trees of golds and reds. For a stretch, a stream parallels the road and reflects the colors against the crystal blue sky. All leading up to the park, which is hidden deep among the trees. 

We had high hopes for our park day. We have gone every year since my son was in my belly and my daughter was almost 2 years old. Each time, was slow paced and fun. But this time was different. This time, it seemed like everyone in a 60+ mile radius had the exact same idea that we did. 

The park was packed.

Too packed, for a little mom and pop park.

It reminded me of our Disney trip. It was difficult to maneuver our double stroller through the crowds, lines for the rides were 5-7 turns deep, and the food lines were out of control. 

Since it is a mom and pop place, they have food stands set up like a fair. They're just randomly placed throughout, with no rhyme or reason for their location. So they couldn't handle the lines and in turn, people were clogging the walk ways. 

We waited in line for pizza, for 45 minutes. My husband bailed out of the line because the stroller wouldn't fit and he claimed he had to stand guard of the stroller. I think he was just as overwhelmed as the kids. So, I was left with two children who's blood sugar dropped and were not happy waiting for food. At that point, I would have payed $50 for a slice of pizza out of someone's trunk.

The day flew by and it felt like we were running from place to place, as we were trying to fit in everything during the park's hours. My daughter tends to get overwhelmed in large crowds, so she didn't have as much fun as she normally does. Her and my husband are the same in that matter. So, they hung by each other most of the day and jumped on the few rides that had smaller lines, or the ones that moved quicker. My son and I, waited in the lines that were longer, for the bigger rides. We waited over 20 minutes, twice, for the little roller coaster. Which he LOVED. We even sat in the front seat and his hands were high in the air the entire time. It would appear, the large crowds didn't phase him one bit. Whereas, I spent a good deal of the day, carrying my 6 year old daughter tightly in my arms.

This was the first year that we really had to figure out the juggling process between two kids. Other years, my son was content just sitting back and letting his sister ride all the rides. He would jump on a few here and there, but they weren't so important to him. But this year, he not only wanted to ride the ones she was doing, but now, he wanted to ride the bigger ones that she wouldn't even dream of doing. So, it almost felt reversed. But because she's older and wouldn't be content just sitting in the stroller (and she was overwhelmed), I vetoed our "family stays together" mantra and certain times, we split off into groups of twos. 

I also think, this was the first year that my daughter learned disappointment. She is known to build things up in her head and fantasizes about every detail of how the day will go. But this time, She was let down by the reality of that day. A sad revelation to learn at such a young age. 

So we ended up leaving the park around 8:00 p.m. After, the temperatures dipped below 45 degrees, after we rode the haunted train, after the kids jumped in the bounce house for the 156th time in a row, after we rode the merry go round so many times I thought I'd puke, after I squeezed myself into the cars that I swore I'd need a shoe horn to get me out of, after we finally ate the pizza, and after we rode the ferris wheel at night, under the clear dark sky, high above the shimmering ground lights.

Both children fell asleep within the first 15 minutes of the car ride home, probably from being overwhelmed with waiting in lines and all the excitement both intertwined together. Either way, once the car was silent and the road in front of us was dark, I exhaled loudly, as I was relieved the day was over. Because as a parent, you have to absorb all the frustrations and incidents of the day, to give the illusion that everything is going smoothly. And, as a parent, you have to be the one in charge, while keeping the day going and only bleeding positivity. 

I knew how much my children were excited to go to the park. We're pretty predictable people and have our yearly rituals; we kick off the summer by camping at this park in July, then go to the beach at the end of August, and then go to this park's fall fest in October. So, they always have a countdown in their heads (and kindles) and imagine the day. So, no matter how stressed the day made me, I was my typical silly self. We danced around to the vendors playing music, we stopped for some games and competed who could knock over those fuzzy mounted guys with the ball. Also, mommy did her silly impressions and voices, and when I noticed my children getting frustrated, we stopped, found a quiet little area, and I gave them the biggest cuddle. In the pizza line, I even held both of them in my arms, at the same time, all 95 lbs of them. And when my injured knee was screaming, "drop them!" I smiled through the pain, while they both rested their heads on each of my shoulders. 

All things considered, I'm sure years from now, my children won't remember the lines or the crowds of people. Or even the record number of times they whined. They'll remember being with me and they'll remember all the fun they had on this day. 

They'll remember the rides. 
The dancing.
The silliness.
The love.

And that's what childhood memories should be about, the positive side. Not the frustrations of life or the negativity us adults partake in daily. They have a lifetime for that, right now, I only want my children to see the good in each day. 

And for them to remember only the best moments of this park trip, because even with the hiccups and outside stimulus, we still had a marvelous time together. And that my friends, is something you can't forget...

Mid Week Humor: Comfort...

I honestly spent twenty minutes picking out an outfit to wear for drop off, only to immediately change back into my jammies upon arrival home. And this was at 9:30 am, when I still had the entire rest of the day ahead of me... Motherhood.

The Happy Days Blog

Whew! What a day...

This week was jammed packed with random happenings. I'll start first with myself. If you follow me on Instagram, you know that I still play coed-softball every Wednesday evening -spring, summer, and fall. My husband works a lot of 12 hour days, so I'm rarely without my children. And girls night is always too inconsistent for my general health. So, softball is my guaranteed one night a week out, by myself, without my children. Plus, I'm good at sports. It's just enough time away where I'm able to reset my brain, talk like an adult, and I don't miss them like crazy. I'm the weirdo where after 2 hours away, I start scrolling through my phone and looking at pictures of my children and thinking about what they're doing.

Two weeks ago, we were playing a double header game. Around the 5th inning of the first game, I hit a long single. The next batter hit a shot out to left field, which bounced past the fielder. I ran from first to third, then rounded the base, surveying where the ball was (since we didn't have a third base coach). I saw the cutoff bobble the ball and in that split second, I imagined myself in my late teens and started going home. I hesitated mid way, rethinking my course of action. The ball was then thrown home and the catcher caught it, stopping me between third and home. I quickly turned my tired body around and headed back to third. Running down the line, I heard the ball thrown over my head and quickly visualized my options. I knew I had to slide, otherwise I would get tagged out, but my legs were behind me and I also knew I was too tired to bring the bottom half of my body around to slide, feet first. 

So I dove. 

Face first. 

Before I continue, let me say, I was safe. 
And I scored on the next batter's hit.

But as I stood up from the ground, the knees of my favorite blue sweats were torn. I had dirt from my neck to the shoes. Scrapes were on my elbows and my right knee. But, my left knee was immediately swollen and bloody. It all happened so fast, I'm not even sure how my one knee impacted the ground harder than the other. I nonchalantly asked how my slide looked... Did it look like Pete Rose? Or did I look like a tee baller diving back to a base? Because the way I felt, I was almost positive, it was the latter. 

But no, my team and spectators said it looked awesome. They were impressed. And the athlete in me, shrugged off the pain and played the rest of the game and the second game, without complaint. 

Fast forward two weeks later. 

My knee was every shade of purple, still swollen, and now my toes and calf area was getting tingly and numb if I sat a certain way. I'm not a doctor person, and I've had major injuries worse than this back in college, so I hesitated to call. 

But this past Monday, I finally called my doctor and was told to head to urgent care to get evaluated. 

I called my mom to see if she could hang out at my house with my children, so they didn't have to be dragged with me from place to place.

She obliged.

So I headed up to urgent care for the first series of testing.

Upon my arrival home, my daughter was curled up in her bed with my mom stroking her head. Throughout the 50 minutes that I was gone, she spiked a fever. She did have a cough starting a few days ago, but never showed any other symptoms. I was shocked by how quickly the onset occurred. 

I sat beside her in bed, holding a piece of paper in my hand that stated I had to go back to the hospital at 7:30 for an ultrasound to test for a DVT (deep vein thrombosis). 

It would figure that the day I finally decided to get my knee checked, was the same day that my daughter spiked a high fever and now, I had to inconvenience someone else to help.

I felt my stomach whirl when I had to figure out the next steps. The urgent care doctor was adamant about getting this ultrasound checked because of the numbness and tingling in my feet. She said, it could be a blood clot (DVT) or a pocket of swelling behind the knee. Either way, it needed a diagnosis. So there I was, typical me, trying to self diagnosis while I snuggled next to my daughter. I was thinking logically, if it was a DVT, I probably would have already thrown a clot by now, because I never sit still. 

My mom broke my thought process by saying she would stay with my children while I went and received the final testing. 

I hesitated a few dozen times within the two hour wait, because I didn't want to leave my daughter. But my mom pushed the significance of getting the testing done. And, I'm glad she did, because if it were just me, I would have probably skipped the final testing and stayed home.

Thankfully, all the testing came back fine. But sadly, there was still a lot of swelling remaining behind my knee that was pinching my nerve and causing my symptoms. 

For me, that diagnosis was a little hard to swallow. I could remember playing college field hockey and slamming my knee into the turf on a daily basis. And, I remember diving face first towards the goalie, trying to get the ball in the goal. Hell, I was even kicked by a goalie in my shoulder/neck area and knocked out and I still played the rest of the game. But here I am, almost 35 years old, and laid up for over 2 weeks because of a little swelling behind my knee.

Ugh...

Once the house was quiet, I tidied up the downstairs waiting for my husband to come home. About an hour after my children went to sleep, I heard a child walking down the steps. I turn to see my daughter standing at the bottom, with her hair disheveled, holding her curly shirley doll and sheet. I felt her head and her fever was high. Much higher. I called my husband and step mother in law to bring a fever reducer here, which they did. But before they arrived, I laid her in my bed and rotated a cool cloth on her body to lower her body temperature. 

As I laid in the dark room, with my fever reduced little girl snuggled into my body, I rolled through the day in my head... 

I realized the reality of how much time has passed since I've played a collegiate sport. Also, that I'm getting older and probably should limit my urge to slide at softball in the future. Or, get into better shape..

And I also realized how much I missed my little girl snuggled in my bed with me. My daughter never slept in her own bed. Never. Not longer than 15-30 minute increments. When I fought cosleeping, before I became an attachment parent, I used to go into her room 6 + times a night, every night. Finally, when I was sick during my pregnancy with my son, I caved and brought her in my bed. And, it was glorious! I couldn't imagine I would have ever slept again. But, as time passed, I wanted to transition her into her own room so I could have time on my own. Because all who cosleep, knows it's not as simple as just going to sleep. I had to end my night when she went to sleep. There wasn't much of a bed time. And there wasn't much of "me" time. Surprisingly, the transition went smooth and she's been on her own for over 2 years now (my son has always loved sleeping on his own). But the past nights, she's been with me. And I was transported back to a time when her voice was little and her body tiny. To a time when I would wake up in the morning and she would have Dora already on the TV and drink her bottle with her head on my shoulder. 

As much as I see myself aging, I see my daughter aging as well. It seemed like yesterday, I could do Petey slides and hop right back up and run more bases. Or, I would do crazy things to my body on the field and never give it a second thought. And it seemed like yesterday, my daughter was my only child and we would spend our days, hanging out, without so much structure keeping us boxed in.

But as life has it, we all have to learn to grow and adapt in this world. And as much as my daughter is learning to function in her new environment, technically, us adults are also learning how to function in our environment as well. We all have to learn the new us, as we age. 

Things around us are constantly changing and evolving and we have to keep learning new ways to adjust while moving forward, just like children do too. 

Because good and bad, life's always changing.

And time is always moving.

And, either you're moving forward.

Or, you're moving backwards.

Because, time won't wait for you.

And standing still, isn't an option...