Clarification

I have to admit that I'm concerned about the ramifications of my writing about my parents on my blog. I don't want to embarrass them in anyway so, in the hopes of alleviating any bad feelings, I decided that it was not only fair but my duty to clarify that I have awesome parents and that I only want a good relationship with them. I'm not trying to be right, to have the upper hand, or to prove how awful they are because they aren't. I'm just struggling with balancing my independence and our need for staying connected. Although I'm unhappy with how things are, they have every right to be feeling what they are. I love them no matter what.

Transitions are often painful but, with being kind and compassionate as a constant goal, we can overcome.

I am truly grateful for my parents and the strong bond that we have. I know we can get through this.

My peace

Our house is clean. The twins are down for their morning nap and Neil is playing a game on the computer. I hear birds chirping in the backyard and spring is drifting in from the newly washed windows. It's peaceful all around and I'm doing my best to be peaceful as well.

I don't like to be unhappy or fearful or angry and I've felt all of these emotions pretty regularly lately. When I find myself feelings such feelings, I eventually reach a point where I've had enough. When in dispute with others, I evaluate and re-evaluate my role in the conflict until I reach the usual conclusion that I can't change how others feel, I have to respect their right to feel what they feel but that I don't have to accept their misunderstandings of me as truth and I have the right to be happy. Ultimately, focusing on compassion toward others and for myself leads me to the peace of mind I need in a time of turmoil. I have reached that point with my parents thanks to some good advice from a friend of mine who said, "forgive your parents for not having the strength to support you right now."

It's amazing how a few words can change one's perspective. It's usually the simplest statement that drives home such a deep understanding. I'm grateful to my friend for, in one sentence, reminding me to be compassionate and understanding toward my parents while accepting the situation as it is.

So, I'm focusing on being forgiving and accepting and it helps me when the angry, fearful and sad emotions drift up to the surface. As was evident this morning after awakening from a dream where I gave birth to a still born, my feelings of loss are too deep for my conscious thoughts to penetrate. Perhaps if I do it long enough, though, these feelings will soothe my soul enough for my dreams to become peaceful as well.

Boundless

The troubled waters are flowing in my family these days. I'm not sure how adept I will be at skirting these rapids and arriving safely at our destination, wherever that may be. I admit that I'm feeling a bit unstable and, honestly, angry at my current situation that, although they were initiated by me, have grown well beyond a mere stream to the grand freaking rapids.

We're planning on moving to Salt Lake City, UT, which sounds simple enough but it involves my leaving my home state, and mostly, my parents. My parents aren't happy about it. Out of respect for my family, I won't delve into the details of their feelings or our many conversations. I do feel that I can express my feelings which are that I wish they could adapt to the idea better than they have. The tenderness I feel for my parents is unwavering yet I sense they don't believe it since I'm leaving, as if our moving is evidence of my loving them less. This is where I have to remind myself that there are things which I can't control and I have to rely on the hope that they'll be able to set aside whatever bitterness is in their hearts and acknowledge that their daughter still loves them deeply and soulfully. Just because we're moving does not mean we can't be close: physical proximity is only a small portion of intimacy - our souls are boundless.

Recently at their request, lines have been drawn in the sand behind which we may lick our wounds. Limitations have been defined and emotions inventoried. Distribution of time and affection are being rerouted in order to preserve . . . something, sanity perhaps? I don't know but I'm concerned. I'm concerned that unnecessarily bad realities are being created and prophecies fulfilled that are driven out of fear, weakness and sadness. Rather than shrinking from a difficult situation, I want to challenge them to be strong and focus on what is truly important. My heart is open and vulnerable and I know I'm not the weaker for it. Strength is not gained by hiding behind walls and barriers - it's gained by facing life straight in the face and not flinching.

So, I sit behind the line in the sand and I turn to my husband and my sons and know that they are my family. I'd like to share them with my parents on the other side but they'll have to realize for themselves that we're worth it. I can only hope that they do.

Good Grief: He's a God

Our 3 year old has been amusing us lately with random Charlie Brown quotes. At first I thought he was learning different phrases at school but then it slowly became apparent that he has moved from "being" Little Bill to being Charlie Brown. From "good grief" to re-enacting Lucy tricking Charlie Brown into kicking the football, our house is filled with Peanuts these days. (Of course, I can't help but notice the irony of that considering that we're a peanut-free house due to Neil's severe peanut allergy.)

Tonight, as the evening was winding down - and, as a side note, today was amazingly calm compared to yesterday - Neil repeated one of his favorite, new phrases which is, "Will you say grace?" (From the Thanksgiving episode.) He has no idea what grace is and thinks saying grace is merely that: saying "grace". For him to hone in on that phrase is both amusing and troublesome since neither Chris nor I consider ourselves Christian and saying grace is, as far as I know, primarily a Christian ritual (although showing thankfulness for food is likely to be something that all or most religions include). I decided it was time that I try to explain to him what it meant to say grace.

Try is the operative word. I began by asking him if he'd like to know what saying "grace" meant and he did. I then proceeded to explain that saying grace was a way to be thankful for food and for sharing that food with loved ones. The big elephant in the room, or in my head rather, was how to explain who is being thanked. Although I'm not Christian, I respect all faiths and did not want to misrepresent Christianity in my explanation so I explained that Christians believe in a god and. . .that's when Neil interrupted and said, "I'm a god."

Ok, then.

So, I decided that he was still too young to understand these things, and I just reiterated to him that saying grace was a way to be thankful and that that was a good thing. As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't really matter what religion that sentiment is tied to - the act itself has its own validity regardless of its basis. Of course, now that I know a god in person, perhaps I could get him to explain the concept of grace to me. Good grief!

Damage report

After ripping my dry contacts from my eyes, sitting down in a comfortable chair and putting my aching feet up, I'm struck by how beaten I am today. I don't know what it was about today but the energy level in the house was beyond ridiculous. It sent repeated shock waves throughout my body. I can't help but feel that these 3 little boys are whittling me down into their idea of their mom and that they could compete with air and water that erodes earth into mountains. Unfortunately, they've already made gravity pull my body down closer to the ground, carved crevices in my skin (stretch marks) and made me bulge forever at my waste line.

I'm a bit dramatic tonight. Did I mention my feet hurt?

So, tonight I ponder why it was so nuts today and I can't help but fear that this is a new trend, one that includes images like Neil spinning his baby brother Dylan around over and over and over again in our office chair, three babies squirming maddeningly in my lap, one baby climbing the table, one crying and the other squirting milk out of his mouth in fits of giggles. Writing about it makes it seem relatively innocent and carefree but that is only just a few flashes of memory from today. It was like that from sun up to sun down, non stop.

I guess the good thing is that Neil and Dylan seem to be doing much better now that they have their tubes in their ears. Of course, as Neil was screaming incredibly loudly and joyfully into a cup while I dried him off from his bath, I asked Chris if we could take his tubes out so that he'd quit being so insanely happy. Horrible thing for a mom to say even when completely joking. I do think he is feeling better so now I have to find the energy to keep up with the happy little guy.

As for Evan, he feels like dog doo since he has infections in both ears. I'm sure we'll end up getting tubes in his ears soon - probably before the month ends. At least we already know what to expect and we've paid our deductible for this year!

So, I'm unwinding now and letting the staticky twitch of my exhausted muscles ease and I can't help but laugh about my boys. They are adorable. They're happy and they know they're loved. They kick my butt but they're worth it even if I want to kick their behinds for grinding me down to a pile of dust at the end of each day. Being this tired and exhausted should only prove to me how hard I really work and how worth it they really are.

Bedlam

I don't even care if I misspelled it. In short, just as my laptop connects to the internet my "break" has ended. One child has an ear infection - the one who doesn't have tubes yet but soon will. Dylan, my little he-man, has interrupted not only Neil's only nap today but has done the same for Evan. Gleefully, he runs away from me and barges into their rooms. He just did it to Evan and I decided it was smarter for me to write this post than go in there and kick Dylan's booty (figuratively speaking, of course).

Ok. Calmer now. I must return to my sergeant duty once again and get my little troops back in line.

Is it 5:00 yet?

Bingo!

Over the last few days, old games of mine and Chris' have been pulled from the depths of what we refer to as the "special toy closet". First it was Twister then Scrabble and, finally, Bingo. How could Chris and I possibly have the time to play these games? We're not. Our three year old is and he loves it.

A sane person probably wouldn't even consider getting any of these games out of their closet so that their 3 year old could play it. I hadn't thought of it before simply because it didn't even cross my mind that he'd be capable of playing any of them but I had an "aha" moment that has led to some fantastic entertainment for him and us as well.

The first inspiration came with Twister. I'm going to assume anyone who reads this is familiar with the game. What could easily be seen as a semi-naughty game involving the entanglement of limbs upon the colorful mat evolved into a completely benign and innocent way for Neil to enjoy jumping around on the different colored circles. Plus, the card that you spin to find out which hand or foot, right or left, goes on which colored circle provides a great opportunity to work on learning left from right. Aha! Not only did Neil enjoy jumping around on the mat, Evan and Dylan seemed to enjoy all the big, pretty colors as they scooted around on it, slapping their little hands on the circles. Finally, it gave Neil great pleasure to "tell" me where to put my hands and feet on the mat and watch me actually do it at his direction - a rare moment for him that sent him into a fit of giggles. (Of course, the fact that I looked like a goof ball doing it had nothing to do with it.)

Once my mind had been rewired to rethink uses of old board games, I began looking at the other games we had. That's when I stumbled on Scrabble. As I have mentioned in previous posts, Neil loves letters and is beginning to read. Scrabble was perfect for that. Although we didn't follow the rules at all, he thoroughly enjoyed creating words with the letters. Unfortunately, since the pieces are small, Scrabble had to be played away from baby brothers.

As much as he enjoyed Twister and Scrabble, the real breakthrough came with Bingo. As I peered into the semi-darkness of the special toy closet, my eyes found Chris' old Bingo game that he got in the 70s. Orange and faded, the box was falling apart and I noticed that Chris' name was written in permanent marker on it. I decided it was time this game be played again. No point in letting it sit there and collect dust.

Unlike the other games we'd played thus far, Neil actually learned how to play Bingo. We both had our cards and he was the announcer. I don't know what current Bingo games come with but Chris' comes with a little mechanism which you turn and a Bingo chip slides out. Neil absolutely loved this thing which is amusingly the colors of orange and yellow - so 70s. We played Bingo off and on all day today and he never tired of reading off the letter and number on the chip, scanning his and my cards and placing the little circle over the numbers when they were there. He even beat me on his first try.

I am amused that these games are so entertaining for him and that they even provide good opportunities for him to strengthen his knowledge of colors, letters and numbers. What else could a parent ask for? I mean, it was free, he loves it and he's learning. I think that all lines up to one successful "Bingo!"