Selfish Mommy

The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein was one of my favorite books as a child. I think I loved the idea someone would love a child so much s/he would give that child everything s/he had. That idea brought me a lot of comfort I suppose. This weekend, as we started to prepare for Christmas, I thought it would be great to read The Giving Tree to my children as a way to teach them about giving and being selfless and loving others.

I made it about halfway through the book when I started to get pretty emotional. I choked out the last half of the book with the kids looking at me like I was crazy. My toddler even asked, "Mommy, why are you crying?" Most people might get a little choked up because it's a sentimental story of unconditional love. Me...I was getting choked up because I was thinking, "Holy crap! That tree is the most selfless, amazing thing on this planet. There is no way I would give that brat (because, let's be honest, that boy is a selfish little punk) everything I had."

My family...the ones I would
do ALMOST anything for.

Then I felt the mommy guilt I always get. How selfish am I? I know I can be. I don't always let my kids eat before I eat because I can get some hanger like you wouldn't believe (just ask my husband). I will sometimes ignore them in the morning (I've taught them all how to get their own breakfast) so I can sleep in on the weekends. I don't let them dictate everything we play, do, or read. I go on girls' weekends, go for runs, and tell them to play in their rooms because I need some time to myself. All of this is okay, isn't it? Am I being selfish?

All of the above may possibly, kinda make me a selfish mommy but I was reminded tonight, after a long day of fulfilling their needs, how often they take over everything in my life.

We had just arrived home. I leave all three children in the living room while I go use the bathroom. Enter my toddler who literally sings and dances in front of my while I am going. Then my 6-year-old comes in whining about how hungry he is. "I'm starving. When are we going to eat? When are YOU going to make ME some food?" I was patient at first but something in me snapped and I screamed, "I will take care of ALL of your needs once I am done taking care of my own biological needs!!!"

With a puzzled look on his face he asks, "What's a biological need?"

"POOPING! I AM POOPING! Can you please give me five minutes so I can finish and then I will cook you supper?!?!?"

Exit both children. With head in my hands feeling ashamed of myself, it dawns on me that I am not always selfish. I just let my toddler entertain me while I sat on the toilet because of her need for attention. I get to play peek-a-boo with her and the shower curtain while I'm taking a shower most days, again due to her need for attention. I play Legos and school and do arts and crafts with them until I have nightmares about mathmatic Lego men who puke glitter. I lay by their beds when they are having a tough time going to sleep singing requested songs, rubbing their backs, scratching their arms. I clean up their puke, poop, and snot. I let them live rent-free in my womb for 9 months, birthed them and then nursed them for another 9 months. I have given all of my energy on most days and then feel guilty that I didn't give enough. It is tough, tiring, and trying being a mom and I love it...well, most of it.

The truth is, I want my children to see that it's great to give their time, efforts, talents and love to others but I also want them to know it's okay to take care of themselves. I hope they understand that I love all of things we get to do together but the world does not revolve around them. I hope they know that sometimes they will get my undivided attention but sometimes Mommy needs to be a bit selfish and put my own needs first so I can be a better Mommy. And I really hope they begin to learn that when I go into the bathroom I would really like some privacy :)

To Be a Farm Wife

When I think of a "farm wife" I think of my Grandma Margaret. I grew up listening to stories about the farm and everything a good farm wife did. Taking meals out to the men who were working long hours in the field; growing gardens and collecting eggs to feed the family; baking pies, cookies, cakes and other goodies to take to church fundraisers or for entertaining relatives and neighbors; pinching pennies to make sure there was enough to get by if the corn/cattle/hog markets tumbled. I think of Grandma Margaret in her kitchen, making homemade noodles and trying to teach me how to be a good farm wife.

Our attempt at a garden this year. It
may have skipped a generation with
me but there is hope for the future
thanks to Papa!

I think she was almost giddy the first time I brought my boyfriend, now husband, to meet her. I think I gained status in the family a bit just by being associated with someone who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, worked hard and provided for America. When we got engaged I think she was delighted that one of her grandchildren would participate in the lifestyle she loved so much.

Little did Grandma know I was not that great of a cook, I didn't know much about growing things, and we really couldn't fit anyone into our little farmhouse much less entertain them there. I honestly didn't really think of myself as a "farm wife" because I didn't really do anything on the farm.

Sure I helped Brad out when we were dating. I sat in the tractor and kept him company when he baled hay. I helped him work cows by recording their weights and whether they were pregnant or open. When he was desperate enough, I drove the tractor while he stacked bales on the hay rack (I'm surprised our relationship survived that ordeal). When I was 8 months pregnant I hiked out through the mud in my s***kickers to climb into the cab of one of his tractors determined to help him un-stick the other. But on a routine basis, you will see very little of me on the farm.

Sometimes I think, "Man, I must be really disappointing Grandma. I am not much of a farm wife at all." But then I think of all of the things good farm wives do:

1. They provide for their families: Farming is volatile and expensive at times. Farming is stressful and for a small-time farmer, not very lucrative. It can be stressful to watch markets go up and down and not know how much money will actually be coming in after feed, rent, and loans are paid. I am a farm wife because I have a full-time job that earns me a stable income my family can rely on. 

I love my children get to be
raised on a farm and have a
wonderful role model to follow.

2. They raise a family and do a lot of it on their own: Okay, a lot of women raise families and a lot of families have unique situations. But as a farmer's wife you can about guarantee there are going to be months, and I literally mean months, throughout the year when you see your husband for maybe 5 minutes a day. That means I am at practices with the kids by myself. I am grocery shopping with the kids by myself. I am going to church with the kids by myself. I am going to family and friend get-togethers with the kids by myself. Sometimes it's hard because I have no one to help me out but mostly it's hard because other people are always asking, "Where's Brad?" He's farming. He'll be back around the beginning of June. 

3. They keep their chin up even when it's tough: Being a farm wife is difficult. Sometimes you feel like you are a solo parent. Sometimes you feel like you're not even in a relationship because you haven't seen your husband for days and haven't had a meaningful conversation with him in months. Sometimes you feel the weight of everything your husband has taken on...the financial burden, the long hours, the weariness. But most of the time you just keep trucking along because you remember everything goes in phases. That it will soon be getting darker earlier and your husband will be showing up for dinner again. That the markets will bounce back and improve his mood. That sooner or later you will actually get your husband back for some family time and date nights.

My farmer supporting me
in my new love of running.

4. They support their husbands' dreams: I can't say growing up I dreamt of living on a farm. But then one day I met this boy. He wanted to be a farmer. He saved his money and bought a farm and became a first-generation farmer (something very unusual these days). He asked me to marry him and I said yes because I loved him and his determination, his work ethic and his dream. Sometimes I think about the dreams I have sacrificed to follow his. It can be difficult to swallow at times. But as I was talking to another good farm wife this week, she helped me realize most people sacrifice something to follow their loved-one's dreams. I'm not trying to make myself a martyr or any other farm wife for that matter. I'm just saying there are a lot of things I have given up or don't get to do because I chose to marry a farmer. Would I change it? Absolutely not. Because my #1 dream was to marry someone I could love and respect, have a family and good life with, and that I have.

Being a farm wife isn't easy. Am I the same kind of farm wife Grandma Margaret was? Not even close. But no matter what kind of farm wife you are, I have come to realize there is a special kinship between us farm wives that no one else can understand. I'm hoping Grandma is looking down on me and is proud of the farm wife I have become.

Committed

I apologize to all of the parents and fans that witnessed my son and I dueling it out last week at his little league game. It was kind of ugly and definitely embarrassing but something we had to do. It was awful but in the end I think it turned out OK.

I'm not talking about some terrible, sports rage incident between a parent, child, ump and/or coach. I am just talking about the battle of wills between my 5-year-old and myself as I was trying to teach him the importance of making a commitment and sticking to it.

Everyone likes to bat. Sometimes it's
getting them to field that's a little
more difficult.

I knew we were going to have the odds stacked against us even before his game started. My eldest and I were just returning home from a weekend away. I knew when we got home all my son would want to do is hang out and I was right. He did not want to go to baseball. His game fell over the supper hour so he was probably hungry and he was probably tired from being out of routine while I was gone.

Literally ten minutes after my daughter and I got home from our trip we were packing up the car to go to the baseball field. My son was not happy and began whining and complaining about going. "I don't like baseball!" "Why did you make me do this?" "I don't want to go!"

For a moment, I almost caved because all I really wanted to do was go home, unpack, and snuggle with him and my youngest who I had missed all weekend. Instead, I had to fight this battle with him because:

A) I know he likes baseball. He loves playing it at home and asks to play it whenever we are hanging out in Nana and Papa's backyard. He didn't like it today because he would have rather been at home with me and his older sister.

B) I did not make him go out for baseball. I asked him if he would like to try it since he seemed to have an interest in it (as pointed out in A). I explained what it was going to be like...practice, some games, playing with some other boys his age...and he said he wanted to do it. Honestly, if he would have said no I may have had a mini celebration because that would mean I would not have to devote time out of our week to take him to and watch practices and games.

C) I don't care if he wanted to go or not. He signed up for something and he will see it through. I don't care if he plays but he will sit there through the game to cheer for his team, a team he is a part of and who he needs to support.

Running the bases is pretty fun, too,
especially when you make it all the
way home!

We got to the game where his team was warming up. I marched him over to the field, him dragging his feet and complaining the whole time. The coach's wife approached him and asked for him to be partners with her son. He gave no reply, threw himself on the ground into the fetal position and squeezed his eyes shut. I could feel my blood boiling but ignored him as I talked to the coach's wife for a few minutes.

When I calmed down a little, I knelt down by him trying to be nice. "I know you just want to hang out with Mommy right now but you have a job to do and that is to play catch with your teammates." Just some grunting in reply. I walked away hoping maybe if I left he would snap out of it but that didn't work either.

Warm ups ended and the game was about to begin. I literally had to drag him into the dugout. I sat him down on the bench and gave him another little lecture about watching his teammates. He did not play the top of the first inning and tried to sneak out of the dugout at one point. I drug him back in kicking and screaming and sat by him to make sure he stayed put. The bottom of the first he saw his teammates go up to bat. I told him he was going to have to let his coach know if he wanted to bat and towards the end of the lineup he did end up batting. "I just like hitting it. I don't want to catch it." I don't think so buddy. 

Top of the second he just sat there again. I told him he couldn't bat again unless he played on the field and then left him in the dugout to make his own choice. After the other team went through a couple of batters, he came out of the dugout to tell me he wanted to play after all. I directed him to his coach on the field and he played the rest of the game without incident. On the way home from the game he said, "Didn't I do awesome?" 

Really? That's how you feel about the whole thing because the whole time my mind and emotions were running wild: Am I terrible mom for making him do this? I am so angry he is acting this way. I am SO humiliated everyone is watching this. He is going to hate me forever. I missed him so much this weekend and this is how he acts? He needs to learn that I will not back down when he is throwing a fit!

I know some of you probably think I am a little intense. That I may be one of those crazy sports moms. Its true I enjoy watching my kids participate in activities and I do want them to try their hardest but I am well aware they are not going to be some superstar athletes someday. I want my kids to participate in activities (sports or others) because participating in such activities will hopefully help them to their build confidence, learn how to be part of a team, learn respect for coaches/leaders, and learn how to be responsible. What I was really trying to teach my son that night was when you decide to do something, you are making a commitment and you need to follow through with that commitment. 

Okay, he's five. Maybe I was being a little too tough on him but then again, maybe not. If I am letting him get away with it now, what am I teaching him for the future?

He got a lot of action tonight playing
pitcher. Knocked a couple balls down and
even got an out. He was pretty happy
when the game was done.

With all of these ugly battles we have I hope my kids are learning something. I'm hoping they are learning how to be more respectful, less dramatic, more responsible, and more committed. I am their mom and I am committed to trying to help them be the best little humans they can be...and sometimes that is really, really tough!

With all of the drama we had last weekend, I was unsure how this week would go. He was not super thrilled to go to practice on Tuesday but did so without too much complaining. Tonight he was excited about going to the game. Tonight he did awesome! He had a couple hits and got an out and was pretty psyched about his game. On the way home he even asked if he could play again next year. Well buddy, we'll have to see how committed you'll be next spring.

Thanks to my son's coaches who stuck with him through a season of ups and downs. Thanks to all coaches out there who volunteer their time and are committed to teaching young kids how to play the game and be part of a team. Your commitment to our kids is truly amazing!

Growing Pains

Time flies by...can't believe
she is 8 already!

My oldest turned eight the other day. I had a special trip planned for her to celebrate her birthday. The goal was to celebrate being a girl and learn what that all entails. We spent the afternoon dining, shopping, and swimming at the hotel pool. We spent the evening talking about being a girl and how difficult it can be at times.

Our discussion was guided by a couple of books I bought a while ago. One covered body basics, the other about taking care of your emotions. Both introduced topics that led to pretty meaningful conversations about growing up. We giggled a lot but there were also a few tears which reminded me how painful it is to grow up sometimes. It brought back memories of the painful moments I had growing up...my own insecurities, fights with friends, trouble with boys. My heart breaks a little for her as I know this is the beginning of some possibly very difficult years ahead.

My wonderful 8-year-old being
a great big sis and hopefully
a great role model, too!

At the end of the trip it was very apparent it was a trip we needed. A trip I needed. I often am exhausted by all of the time and energy I spend trying to teach her how to be a good kid; at being a confident, respectful and responsible citizen of the world. I sometimes forget how exhausting and painful it can be to be a kid. As I look at her and all of the things she does and doesn't do, at all of the things she is amazing at and all the things she's not, at all of the things she seems to need to learn over and over, I am reminded of what a beautiful, bright, and confident young lady she is becoming and that she is just beginning to learn how to navigate relationships and life while dealing with all these growing pains.

She may be growing up fast but
all I have to do is watch her
sleep to remember she is still
such a babe!

And despite how painful it can be to grow up, it is unbelievable how painful parenting is. Painful to watch you children struggle with friendships. Painful watching them get hurt. Painful watching them fail at something. But the thing that was most painful for me this weekend was realizing how fast she is growing up. During this trip I was able to appreciate all of the good things I sometimes don't see amidst all of the teaching and training we do to ensure she's a successful human being. That being said, it's pretty painful to see her become so independent, to be able to have more grown up conversations. It's painful to think in a blink of an eye she won't want to snuggle or hang out or maybe even confide in me.

I hope we will learn how to be there for and comfort each other as we both endure these growing pains during the next several years. And I hope she will continue to grow to be a beautiful, bright, and confident young lady who loves to snuggle with her mom...even when it's not cool to anymore.

Strippin' It Down

It's been a crazy year around here. We finally made the decision to build a new house after 10 years in our 1890s farmhouse. We started the house in October and the flurry of decision making began leaving me feeling more than a little overwhelmed for a majority of the year.

My cluttered kitchen bursting at the
seams with junk but also with love

Finally, in mid-April we were ready to move. And by ready, I mean we decided to move so we could be in the new house before my daughter's First Communion. Nothing was organized, nothing was packed. Since we were literally moving down the lane, we basically piled the essentials (beds, clothes, toys we couldn't live without) into our vehicles and left a gigantic mess at the old house.

Love was literally written
on the walls

That old house has created a significant amount of stress for me. We left it in complete disarray. The first week we made several trips back there to pick up more "essentials" we didn't get moved that first weekend. Then our visits began to grow further apart. It became very difficult for me to face that house.

Of course, a huge reason was because I didn't want to face the mess. The piles of junk that remained to sort through were overwhelming and just the thought of cleaning it up was exhausting enough. But, I discovered this weekend, another reason it has been for me to face was I didn't want to see that old house stripped down.

Brad and Lexi in their favorite chair

My husband carried me over the threshold of that house the day after we got married. We brought all three of our children home to that house. We have laughed, cried, fought and loved in that house. It used to be so full of life, the life of our family.

So many projects done in that
old house

Yesterday I walked into that house for the first time in about two weeks all by myself. My first instinct was to walk into the living room, plop on the couch and turn on the TV which of course was not there. I sat there on the floor feeling a terrible sadness that this was really the end. When I looked around I could imagine where we all would sit in the evening, Brad in his chair with Lexi on his lap, Livi lying on her stomach on the floor coloring or writing a story, Will jumping off the end of the couch onto me. This would never happen again.

Hoping the kids will have great
memories of the house and their old
rooms.

I guess I just wasn't expecting to feel such grief. I've hated that house. It has had a leaky roof, rusting pipes, doors and cabinets that were falling apart, gigantic bugs, and occasional rodents for guests. But I guess I must have loved it more than I thought because yesterday was pretty tough.

One of my favorite things
about that old house. Every
kid that came to play
thought it was the best!

I will take a little comfort in the fact I'm taking pieces of that house with me. The kitchen cabinets (which I am not entirely attached to) have made their way into our garage to house the kids' toys, tools, etc. The vent cover that was in the kitchen ceiling (it led up to the kids' bedroom and we loved to talk through it) has already been hung as decor in my new kitchen. Some of the old doors will be re-purposed into a message board, entryway bench, and headboard. Small pieces of a house I apparently had a love-hate relationship with will be present and will hopefully provide reminders of our time there.

The last family pic taken in that old house

So as I strip down that old house I will probably continue to strip away at emotions I didn't realize I was carrying with me through this whole process. I will be sad to see that house go but I know we will soon make our new house a home.

Cherish the Moments

As a mom, it always drives me crazy when others try to enlighten me on what I should do as a parent. It's always hard to stomach unsolicited advice about parenting topics such as discipline, potty training, getting rid of binkies, sleeping arrangements, etc., etc. I just grin, roll my eyes behind the offender's back, and usually have a slew of choice words running through my mind.

What's not to love about this girlie?

With all of the advice I have received over the past eight years, you know the one that drives me the most crazy? "Cherish every moment." Ugh! It drives me absolutely batty! It drives me crazy because I do not cherish every moment of my children's lives. I don't cherish the moments when they are having full blown temper tantrums. I don't cherish the moments when my daughter purposefully antagonizes my son to get a rise out of him. I don't cherish the moments when they are disrespectful, lazy, or disobedient.

Our first...can't believe
she's almost eight!

And after a day like today, I think the real reason it drives me crazy is because I am afraid. I am afraid I will not cherish enough of my kids' childhoods, that they'll grow up so fast that I won't be able to remember the funny things they say, the small acts of love and kindness they show each other, all of their individual quirks. It drives me crazy because as a mom who tries to balance working full time, teaching religious education, carting my kids to various activities, and trying to squeeze in some "me-time," I am afraid I am not devoting enough time to my kids. I'm afraid I'm not enjoying all of  each of them. It drives me crazy because I'm scared their childhood is going to vanish right before my eyes.

Our baby boy...he's not
a baby any more.

These thoughts have been swirling in my head ever since my first child's birth almost eight years ago but I think they have been more poignant lately as we are going through some major milestones. We're packing up and leaving the house we have lived in ever since my husband and I got married. He carried me over the threshold and we have brought each of our three children to this home to start their lives in our family. I think there is a part of me that fears some of the memories we have made here will be left here when we leave, that I will forget what it was like to talk to my kids through the vent between floors or that their favorite hiding spot during hide-and-seek was always on top of the wash machine behind the curtain.

All grown up and ready
for Kindergarten!

They are growing up too fast. Next year will be the first year all three of our kids will be in school (3rd, Kindergarten and preschool). It is unbelievable that our oldest will be eight soon...and I have a hard time remembering what she was like as a baby. It makes me terribly sad. I wish I could cherish more moments but it is difficult when I am just trying to survive some days.

The first night as our complete
family. Lots of memories
made.

As I was putting my son to bed tonight after an exciting day of Kindergarten round-up, he happened to request "Love You Forever" by Robert Munsch for his bedtime story. Needless to say I only made it through about 3 pages before I started bawling. And my sweet boy wraps his arms around me and says, "I love you Mommy." I think it was a sign. Slow down. Take a breath. Cherish these moments.

I know I will always struggle to find the perfect balance between having a career, being a mom and taking time for myself. I pray that God will help me get through the days I want to pull my hair out and He'll help me hold onto all the memories and moments I have with my kids.

So the next time someone tells me to "cherish every moment," I will try to not panic or roll my eyes. I will try to give each of my kids an extra hug, tell them I love them one more time, and appreciate all the small moments we share.

Come Run!

I started running almost 2 years ago. This was a big deal for me because I hated running. I hated how it made my lungs burn and my body ache. But mostly, I hated it because I wasn't any good. I wasn't fast and I couldn't go very far. Being a competitive person, this was my excuse for not doing it, for not trying.

Clearning up after my
irst race, Squaw Creek
Army Challenge, with a
great friend!

But after having 3 kids and not exercising a whole lot other than chasing them around, I figured I needed to do something that would get me back into shape. I'm not going to pretend it was easy. It really, really, REALLY sucked at first. I didn't really know what I was doing so I just went out, ran as far as I could without puking, than walked, than ran, than walked and so on. It was not fun and my body hurt...a lot. But I kept going until I was running more and walking less. Soon I was finally running 3 miles without stopping. It was slow but I was doing it.

Goal was to get in the 25's...
achieved with the help of a good
friend who kept me going!

I signed up for my first race about 4 months after I started running. I signed up with a friend to do an Army challenge. My pride was on the line and that is what kept me running. I didn't want to walk and I didn't want to be the last one out there. And now I know I didn't really need to stress about it. Nobody cared how I did. Everyone was just excited to be out there together doing something they loved.

First 10K with my sis-in-law and some
good running buddies!

I learned something very important that day. Being a runner makes you part of a wonderful community. Running brings people together. I was running with one of my best friends who could have killed it. But she stuck with me, encouraging me through the whole thing. I saw this over and over again as we ran, crawling through mud and over obstacles. Everyone was out there supporting each other no matter how "good" they were.

Half marathon with my sister
and her husband...both have
been awesome supports!

After that race, I signed up for another and then another. And with each race, although I ran my "own race," I had friends and acquiantences who kept me going, who were so supportive no matter if they were faster or slower than me. I started to discover it wasn't really how fast I ran or what place I came in (although that continues to motivate me), it was about getting out there, being positive, and being supportive of each other. I discovered it wasn't necessarily about being competetive with others but being competetive with myself, to set goals and to try to achieve them. It was about being part of a community who understands your struggles, builds you up instead of tearing you down, and pushes you to keep going and get after your goals.

My daughter's first 5K at age 7.
She finished in 39:58. So proud of her!

In every race I have run, I have experienced examples of the amazing spirit of this community of runners: The random guy who ran with me for about a mile during a 10k, cheered me on to keep up my pace and made me laugh when I was struggling; my sister who enrouaged me to sign up for my first half marathon this fall; my two running buddies who helped me train for that half even though they were not running it themselves; the girl behind me in an 8K who I heard thank every single volunteer we ran past; a friend who offered to watch my kids this afternoon just so I could go out and run.

A very hot, muggy 10K with some
awesome runners from my community.

Running has obviously changed my life. My intended outcome was to get into better shape and be a good example to my children by incoorporating exercise into my daily routine. I never expected it to affect my emotional well being as much as it has. I certainly never expected it to be something I would come to love. And I never, ever expected to feel so much love and support from fellow runners.

I am proud to be part of this community. It's a community of love, support, and encouragement. It's a community that inspires me to get out there and do my best. It's a community that humbles me by the overwhelming support they give to honor those who are no longer able to run. It's a community with a spirit you can't really understand until you become a part of it.

Come join our community. Come run!