Our Anniversary

Last weekend Brett and I went out (without children). Gasp! I know!
We have not been out on a single date (outside the home) for a year. Gasp again. I know.

Our sitter brought crafts for the kids to do. They painted aprons. She took pictures. Each hand painted child stashed said pictures into their apron pocket. No one has seen them since. (The pictures not the children.)

On our celebratory date night (celebrating our anniversary) we had reservations at a swanky restaurant downtown. Very nice. There were no scary clowns handing out twisted balloon animals. Our meal did not come with a cheap toy. In fact there were no straws, paper napkins/bags or children's menus. Seriously. Children were not allowed!

There was candlelight, soft classical background music, a simple but elegant menu and a fully stocked bar. Supposedly the restaurant is haunted. The only premonitions I had (okay, wistful daydreams) was living in such a pretty, well maintained and very old house.

Conversation beyond parenting and our children was challenging at first. These days this is so much of who we are ... "Did you register the kids for school today?" "I can't until you get me a copy of their immunizations." "Awwww, right! Ben fell on the air vent again." "Did he ask for a band aid?" "Of course!"

When I reached across the table, illuminated by candle light, I grasped the hand of my husband. Someone I have known for twelve years. Whom I've been married to for eight. Someone who has moved with me through some very good and bad times. A wonderful husband and father. Someone I look forward to growing old with .....

Brett .... "P.S. I Love you!"

Benjamin

Our world is abuzz with the tidings of spring. Just a few weeks ago we still wore long sleeves and heavy jackets. Today my kidlets are roaming around the house in shorts and bare feet.

Benjamin will soon be out of school. He will "graduate" from his Pre-K class on the 23rd and next year go to the "Big K".

Through my eyes Benjamin will always be ten feet tall ... even when standing next to his much larger peers. Likely he will always be on the small side. So what. He is alive. Something I once constantly worried he would not be able to achieve.

There are still some preemie eccentric behaviors that make him stand out in a crowd. If the crowd is really paying attention.

Of course he is legally blind. Again, so what. This is just one small part of who "Big Ben" is ....

Due to a still touchy nervous system he covers his ears when overstimulated. Not bizarre looking. He just covers his ears and moves along.

Sensory issues are sometimes still apparent. Some foods he prefers not to eat because of a dislike of texture. He loves to wear belts, hats and blankets (tied like superman).

So what. So what. So what.

He thrives. He is alive. He is hilarious!

There were five times Ben overcame dying.

1) Being born at 1 pound 4 ounces and a quadruplet. He was just 25 weeks gestation.

2) On day 3 when the blood in his lungs reversed.

3) When he acquired a bilateral Grade III brain bleed. Without warning it grew to a Grade IV on one side (the highest severity of bleed). This caused hydrocephalus that resolved without a shunt.

4) Projectile vomiting from terrible reflux caused him to weigh just 13 pounds on his first birthday. This resulted in surgically getting a g-tube and fundo. There is no doubt this saved his life.

5) He stopped breathing the evening of day 3, after discharge from the NICU. Brett and I performed CPR on him. He spent two week more in the hospital due to pulmonary edema.

Yesterday his Pre K teacher was sharing with me how far Ben has come since being placed into her class in the middle of the school year. "He has just blossomed. Playing with other children, participating in activities and giving us lots of information without being prompted .... He is a smart little boy filled with questions and answers."

So I asked a few questions.
Me: Do you think he needs a neurological done? Any strange behaviors or learning problems.
Her: No

Me: Do you think he is ready for kindergarten?
Her: Absolutely.

Me: Is he enjoying school?
Her: Yes. Very much.

Me: Do you notice his vision issues holding him back when in the group?
Her: No. He goes for it.

Me: Do you notice his size making a difference?
Her: No. He just asks if he needs help due to being a little smaller.

I cannot tell you how happy this makes me. Can you see me jumping up and down? For the first time since his birth I exhaled. All the while I did not realize I was holding my breath.

Mother's Day

Yesterday I was thinking about what it means to be a mother. For another purpose and in another spot I wrote this for some special moms. Because I have such a great mom and because I know so many too ... I thought this might bring you a smile today.
Here it goes:

Happy Mother's Day to Every Mom

Mother’s Day brings for many women affirmation of our sense of purpose. Yes jobs and hobbies are fulfilling. School degrees and clean homes are important. All of the history we bring to present helps make us who we are … Being a mother is a sacred job.

If ever a woman’s heart twisted with happy anticipation whenever she felt a wiggle in her womb … If ever a mother giggled triumphantly when her baby spit out stewed carrots but swept it back in again with his tongue …. If ever a mother’s heart split in two when her daughter was not chosen for the team …. Then you wear the shimmering banner “Mother” across your shoulders more inspiringly than Ms. America.

Some mothers lose their babies before a noticeable wiggle or after first steps. There may be none or few photographs proudly adorning living room walls. Unused or barely used cribs may wait lovingly re-packaged in attics or basements. The sound of tiny footsteps running down the hall may be a yearned for echo only in our dreams. Yet these women are undeniably mothers.

Some mothers may have babies born far too soon or with a serious birth defect. First pictures were snapped inside a sterile intensive care unit soon after baby was quickly taken from mom. Bedside bonding may include reading a book by bili light or pressing head against isolette to count baby’s toes. Everything is different. How can anything be the same again? Yet these women are most definitely mothers.

Some mothers rejoice in a full term, happy baby. First time moms may take a deep breath and wonder why baby was not delivered with a “how to” manual. Moms two, three, four times over may immediately fall in love with their new addition, a sloppy baby sitting on her chest. Other moms may feel overwhelmed at the mysteries of motherhood. All of these women are certainly mothers.

Whether you have lost a baby, have survivors or have living children all born healthy …. Happy Mother’s Day. No matter your experience with motherhood ….I wish you this: Peaceful moments in a day celebrating you. All you are. All you’ve been through. All the different roads you’ve taken to exhale in this moment. You are a mother full of special insights and gifts. Thank you for wearing the banner called “Motherhood”.

Sending this to you with love and best wishes! - Melissa

Running Around Town

Friday is a busy day. After dropping Ben off at school, Callie and Donovan spend the day with me running errands. This gives Brett (who works nights) a full eight hours to peacefully sleep .

At Michael's we look for paper to finish the kids birthday scrapbook (their birthday is not until June).

The kids each pick out a pair of sunglasses. We remember to choose a pair for Ben too.

An elderly woman laughs when the kids "ahhhed" and "oohed" over the eye level candy display. When a lane opens she insists we go in front of her. She remarks, "You have such cute kids."

The check out lady asks, "Can I give them a cookie?"

"Sure. Thank You."

Pre-wrapped cookies suddenly appear in Donovan and Callie's hands.

At SAMS we stop at the bakery. I have been asked to bring a cake to the hospital on Monday. Pink and blue booties adorn it. March of Dimes, March for Babies will be skillfully written across the center.

Callie and Donovan introduce themselves to the lady helping me with my order.

"Hi, I'm Donovan. This is my sister Callie." He jerks a thumb towards his sister.

"Hello, I'm Callie. We are running errands. Mommy bought us sunglasses. Mine are pink. His are orange."

Smiling the lady responds warmly, "You are both the cutest kids. How sweet." She turns to me. "Can I give them a cookie?"

I nod. She disappears. When she returns she offers a plate of chocolate chip and snicker doodle cookies. "Which one would you like?"

Donovan picks a Snicker Doodle. Callie chooses a chocolate chip cookie. We all thank the kind lady.

We stop to eat lunch. Several employees stop by our table to chat with the kids. I slurp down my cup of soup and the kids graze through sandwiches.

After a lengthy conversation with Donovan one waitress hands him a sticker. "You are both so cute I could stick you in my pocket and keep you."

Callie giggles. "We are too big to fit in your pocket."

After picking Ben up we head to the library. Old rentals are returned. The kids sit down around a small table. I skim through the children's section looking for books the kids will like.

Callie begins chatting with a lady shelving books. "Hi, my name is Callie. What is your name?"

Smiling the lady stops what she is doing and answers. "My name is Nog."

"Oh, that is a very pretty name." Callie bats her eye lashes and smiles.

"Thank you."

Callie's face twists in concentration as she tries to think of something else sweet to say. "Once I had a puppy. His name was Nog Nog. He liked to drink water from a bowl."

Laughing the lady turns to me. "Your children are very kind. Can I give them coloring sheets? I'll get them some crayons."

So the kids color while I finish making book selections.

At check out the kids introduce themselves to all of the librarians and receive stickers.

Seriously. By the end of the day we acquired four cookies, five stickers, three coloring pages/crayons, and an invitation to skip in line. Not to mention we had many opportunities to practice our manners.

At bedtime the children go to sleep without protest. That is my freebie. Enough of a reward to run around town with them all day again .... some time.

I am so exhausted by the day's end that I go to bed early too. "ZzzzzzzzzzzZ"

Let's Talk About Money, Honey...

A wise person should have money in their head, but not in their heart.
Jonathan Swift (1667-1745)

His money is twice tainted: taint yours and taint mine.
Mark Twain (1835-1910) U.S. humorist, writer, and lecturer.

Money can't buy happiness; it can, however, rent it.
Unknown Source

Anyone can be great with money. With money, greatness is not a talent but an obligation. The trick is to be great without money.
Unknown Source

Lately I've been thinking a lot about money. Who hasn't lately? Greenbacks may be what makes the world go 'round but lately we've been on a repetitive tilt and not a silent rotation.

A friend confided to me that her baby's special formula (that he must take) was $34's a week ago. Due to rising prices in every venue around the country formula prices have gone up too. This week she paid $44.45's a can. Yes. I said per can.

We owe a bundle of money in taxes this year. Yep. We do. State and federal Uncle Sam's do not discriminate. They want a fair cut.

For five years we've poured every resource into giving our children a healthy and smart start. Frequently I joke with people that we've grown the kids from the ground up. That takes some major resources.

So it is what it is.

One day Brett and I will be 80, sitting on a long front porch, rocking in matching wood rockers. Cars will speed pass the house and we'll comment on dangerous, young drivers. We may laugh about how easy people have it 2054. Smiling we will reminisce about all the times we said, "we'll never be in this situation" and laugh about all the times we suddenly were ....

By then our children will be grown with children of their own. Their children may be parents too. We'll proudly talk about all the delightful people who came down the family line because of us.

This is hope. Hope that tomorrow is another day. That better times are yet to come. In moments that seem impossible it is hope that pulls us through.

We will pay our taxes. Pay our bills. Willingly or unwillingly we will pay the ever increasing gasoline prices that trickle into groceries and clothing. We will because we are grown ups. To provide and care for (against all odds) is what adults do for those who depend upon them.

A week or so ago Brett and I were listening to the radio. The announcer was encouraging everyone to come out on Saturday and attend a big rally to raise money for MD. Off the cuff Brett grumbled, "That's funny. I was going to have a big rally at our house on Saturday to raise money for ME." Together we laughed.

That is also what people do. At least people like Brett and me. When life seems too difficult ... too exhausting .... too much ... we laugh. In spite of it all ... we laugh.

Far greater than money is the ability to remain a little idealistic, to keep a sense of humor and most of all ... to recognize the blessings money cannot buy.

As for our kids, I want them to stay kids for as long as they can. Our job is to teach them the value of a dollar while also sheltering them from the truth of what that dollar often represents.

A senator or legislature (whatever) commented the other day that Americans should be excited to pay their taxes. After all, we have freedom and all the liberties that come with it.

It is hard to be excited to pay taxes when most Americans are barely making ends meet. Though I can believe paying taxes may make some Americans (cough, cough) exciteable.

Happy April 15th! Good luck.

Psssst! Can I borrow a stamp?

My Kids *are* Cute!

Happy April 5th Everyone! Yep, it is my birthday. Happy Birthday to my twin, Brandon!

To celebrate this milestone I've decided to share with you "cute things" my kidlets do.

* The other day I was explaining to the kids that next year they would be attending kindergarten. How very exciting!

Donovan came close to tears. "But I don't want to go to school. I want to stay home, learn to play the guitar, and be a rock star."

Drats! Foiled again.

*At school Benjamin had a room full of visitors and really needed to potty. He asked his paraprofessional to accompany him to the bathroom. Being an older child, he prefers her standing outside the door. When he was done he peeped his head out. "Mrs. R. - You are going to need your gloves." He'd had a tiny accident on the floor.

His teachers are still laughing about this one!

*Callie is a giggly and precious girl. She loves to talk, sing, and dance. One day she was dancing all over the living room. Pausing for a moment on her tip toes she informs us, "I am getting married to my boyfriend."

Brett passes through the room and hears this. "Since when did you have a boyfriend?"

She flutters towards him in a butterfly sweep. "You're my boyfriend, daddy."

Oh, okay. Well .... as long as there isn't a boyfriend. This was just such a daddy/daughter kind of heart melt moment.

And so the world turns at our house.

For my birthday we went to the zoo, rode the carousel, and I purchased "eraser" boards for the kids. We ate hot dogs for lunch. Donovan got the cake he so desperately wanted (with ice cream). Being a mom definitely has its perks.

"Shhhhhhhh, everyone hide." Benjamin yells as I come down the stairs.

"Everybody panic. EEEEEK!" exclaims Callie.

"Hurry, Mommy's coming and we still need sprinkles for the cake!" Shouts Donovan.

Hope you have a beautiful day!

For those of you who have been able to, Thanks for supporting our March of Dimes Family Team. It means a lot.

Perspective

This week has been tough for so many reasons. We are fine. Everyone is healthy. Stress at work. Tax season. Life in general session. Sort of like someone pressed the fast forward button and it stuck. Makes me wonder (once again) why we are not given a manual at birth to figure out a lifetime. (Maybe with pictures and catchy rhymes...)

When I find myself in a week like this ... It is easy to feel sorry for myself. In quiet moments of reflection I put myself in timeout. Life is what it is and somehow we survive.

Sometimes bad things happen to us. They do. It happens. "Good" or "Bad" (however this is determined) life does not discriminate.

There are days I wish things were different. Truly. That the world (my world) would settle down and remain consistent. Calm waters and smoothe sailing. Seems like it should happen..... at least for a while.

A nun, whom I respect and like, asked me how I was doing. Just being polite. A common phrase, "how are you today" awaiting the expected "I am well." So I was agreeable.

She smiled widely. "You must have been extra good then. Doing good things leads to many wonderful blessings."

For a moment I just stared at her. Wide eyed my mouth sprang open. If this were true ... then what terrible thing did I do to have 4 micro preemies and lose a child? Just for a moment. Not for long. A fraction of a second.

Blessings do abound in my life. Wonderful things that would not have happened. Wisdom I would not have had my life not run this course.

*My husband is a wonderful father. Patient, kind and loving whenever he cares for the kids. They love to play games with him. My heart fills with happiness when I watch them together.

*I am capable of dealing with more than I ever dreamed I would be asked to. Seldom do I rant that "this is not supposed to be" ... It is and I am. Resourcefulness, courage and determination abound. Before I had no idea how important these skills would prove to be.

*Disability is only a word. A person's ability is what matters. Benjamin has incredible ability. People are drawn to him. Through grins and giggles he teaches adults to be accepting and more carefree.

*When my children were born we were told all the things they likely would never do. If they survived. Through a lot of work, prayer and help ... I sit back and watch Ben, Callie, and Donovan in amazement. Truly the tiny people they are ... who they are becoming .... It is inspiring.

*By working inside an NICU with families .... I feel like my experiences lift (even if just slightly) the burden of parents and grandparents currently experiencing their baby's hospitalization. This is rewarding and healing. When their eyes smile and their faces light up ... Those are the moments that make my work life worth while.

So blessings to each of you. Whatever way each comes to you. However they look once they arrive.

This week has been challenging. No way around it. One of those spectacular weeks that startle you. I am still dazed.

How important it is to remember what has worked out just fine.

Hope everyone has a wonderful week.

Easter, Church, and True Life (Three Parts)

Spring Cleaning

Brett and I have tackled major household chores this week. No fun at all but seriously needed. Containers were opened, contents were taken out, garbage cans were filled, and more room was created.

The kids began to worry. "Momma ... where are you putting all the stuff?" and "Oh Momma ... you are getting rid of my clothes."

Had to be done. No way around it. Spring cleaning sprung!

Brett reorganized the basement. I tore apart and pieced together the kids' closets and our bedroom. Together we dug through boxes (mostly work) stored in the butlers pantry.

Floors were mopped, rooms were vacumed, and chipped paint (we have a paint chipping problem) was chipped all the way off. Bit by bit I began feeling like I could breathe again.

Through this I realized how far we have come since my children were born devastatingly premature. There was once a time when we did not laugh about any of it. Everything was taken so seriously. Our skin (especially mine) was sooooo thin.

Brett found the urn that once held Alex's ashes. He sat him on the dining table and walked away. I stopped in front of it and stared at Brett. He smiled and shrugged, "I found Alex."

It may sound morbid. There truth is .... Alex is as much a part of our family ... Through our love for him. Even the children speak about him in a conversational way. For us we integrated our loss into our life. We are able to laugh.

Benjamin was "hiding" in a see through container. It was empty. He thought if he put the top on top no one would see him.

Callie walked passed. "I see you Ben. Momma said stay out of her box."

Laughing, Ben scampered away.

I turned to Brett. "Sweetie, did you see that. Our legally blind little boy thought we could not see him in a clear, plastic container."

We laughed. Not in a cruel way. Once upon a time we never would have laughed at *anything* about Ben's eyes. No way. No how. It would not have happened. Together we have embraced the truth that while Ben is legally blind ... it does not change who he is ... a delightful little boy filled with giggles.

All in all it was another way of clearing the cobwebs of our quadruplets devastatingly early start. We laugh a lot together as a family. After all ... I believe it is our sense of humor that brought us to today. Laughter is a gift.

Please check out my fundraising walk page at: http://www.marchforbabies.org/4middletonkidlets

March for Babies: Enough

Hello Everyone,

I know it has been a little while since I've last blogged. Today I want to share a story with you. Then I want to ask for your support as my family joins the March for Babies!


The first time I saw my quadruplets was on ultrasound.

Weekly ultrasounds meant I saw my babies throughout pregnancy.

Even then I was learning how to be a Mother. It is amazing how much they already were teaching me. The love that flowed through my veins and into each of our hearts.

When Baby D sucked his thumb I cooed in the high pitch language of Mother’s that mystifies the scientific world.

When Baby A separated himself from the rambunctious

kickboxing of Baby C and D I worried about potential outcomes.

When Baby B crawled beneath my ribs and stayed I began to understand loving my children would sometimes be painful.

Because I saw thumbs sucked, in-utero squabbles and fetuses that moved...I ato imagined caring for four babies at home. I saw four cribs, four swings, four bouncy seats and four stuffed teddy bears.

Laying in bed with a monitor across my belly I thougth about the future.

At Easter time four chubby legged babies would toddle around the backyard searching for colored eggs. On birthdays four smiling faces would peer excitedly over smartly wrapped gifts.

I dreamt of the active life our family would enjoy together. Spring
echoed baseball games. Summer splashed with swimming meets. Fall frolicked in freshly raked leaves. Winter pounced with snowball fights.

Near my 25th week of pregnancy my high risk OB sighed heavily as he sat down on my bed. "Melissa, have you had enough of being
pregnant?"

I shook my head viloently. Enough is not enough. Enough never would be.

Please check out my fundraising walk page at: http://www.marchforbabies.org/4middletonkidlets

You Don’t Always Get What You Want….

For several hours I prepared a scrumptious roast, gravy, sweet potato casserole, veggies, crescent rolls, a festive fruit salad, and assorted sweets. Our family gathered together around the dining table to enjoy this feast.

Then the complaining started. One child after another pointed out some detail that did not suite. I tried to ignore them.

“Momma,” Donovan pointed to “seeds” in his green beans, “why do the beans have seeds? I don’t like seeds.”

Because that is how beanstalks grow, Donovan. Seeds are planted in the ground and bean sprouts erupt into dozens of green beans. They are bundled up, brought to farmer’s markets, or sent to stores with “seeds” inside them.

Callie followed more cleverly. “Is that a nut? When I was a little girl I told my mommy I didn’t like nuts. Maybe I should push it away.”

Nearly cracking a tooth I explain. “I like nuts. A pecan grove used to cover our backyard when I was growing up. Pecans are my favorite.”

I notice Benjamin spitting out his roast. He moves on to another choice.

Now I am sneering. “When I was younger I volunteered at a food bank. Children all over the world sometimes get very little to eat. They do not get food piled up high on their plates like you do. They go to bed and their tummies are still hungry."

Brett mentioned Mickey Mouse’s Christmas Carol. “Remember when Mickey’s whole family had to cut up one tiny pea? That was all they had to eat? It wasn’t very much was it?”

Donovan cocked his head to one side. “I don’t like peas.”

Sighing heavily I add, “Some kids would love a plate of peas to eat because their tummies never feel full.”

Callie chews a mouthful of potatoes thoughtfully. “You don’t always get what you want, Donovan … But sometimes you also don’t get what you need.”

Wordy Apparel

Donovan found silly putty inside his stocking. A wonderful, stretchy blob of gum. Something useful to pull, tug, bounce, and adhere to surfaces.

Not once has it called it silly putty. He smashes it flat, admires its thickness, and rolls it in a ball. "Momma, look at my Silly Lilly Pad".

Indeed. Silly Lilly Pad is what the other children call it too. When I call it silly putty I am corrected. "No. It is my Silly Lilly Pad."

That is not the only re-named object floating around our house. Kids live in a world that they try to understand. When something does not make sense, they do their best to make sense of it.

Callie loved singing Christmas carols. Driving around town I smiled as she belted out her own rendition of "Deck the Halls".

"Deck the Halls with bows and holly. Fa la la la la, la la la la. Now is the time to feel all jolly. Fa la la la la, la la la la. Now we down our yellow barrels. Fa la la la la, la la la la."

Beautiful girl with her darling voice. She made the song her own. She created new lyrics, equally meaningful, sang with such passion, but in her words.

Benjamin is just as delightful. Mentally words are converted by his thesaurus for 4 year olds. Soon the other children adopt his words too.

On a road trip in the car he was watching "Curious George". To hear it, he wore headphones. At some point while playing he dropped them on the floor. "Momma, I need my headies back. Please."

Donovan plays with a"Silly Lilly Pad".

Callie sings about a barrel.

Benjamin wears headies.

I love that at such a young age they try to make sense of their surroundings. With a sharp intellect they squint their eyes and look around. Smiling in satisfaction they come to an acceptable conclusion.

Please check out part B to this blog at http://nowweregettingsomewhere.blogspot.com/ to read more about The Kite Runner, A Thousand Splendid Suns, and their author.

Tree Undressing

Down comes the tree. Decorations and glitter again held captive in tight packages. Boxed away for another year.

Undressing the tree today was especially hard for the kids. I prepared them days in advance. Sadly, I was not taken seriously.

"Kids, in a few days the tree is coming down. No more Christmas decorations until next year. It will all go into the basement."

Callie laughed at me. "No way, Mom!"

Donovan taunted me. "We need to put up more decorations."

Benjamin was more practicle. "Put the tree outside."

In my heart I knew they were all in for a rude awakening. A jolt to their sugar plum dreams. It was only a matter of days before our tree came down.

Today it did. Whimsy was shoved into a box. Boxes were labeled with black marker. Tree skirts were rolled up and stockings were pulled down. It was a messy situation to be sure.

With teary eyes Callie watched me. "No, Momma. Santa won't be able to find us."

Grimacing at garland that just won't lay flat I mutter. "Santa does not come agian until next year."

"I don't want to put the tree down." She throws herself into a fit of New Year's remorse.

Stabbing my finger on something sharp I wince. "Callie, it will be safe downstairs. Next year we'll bring it back up again. Okay?"

"No!" She begins flailing limbs now. "I want the lights on."

Brushing brown spots I realize it is the same sweater I wore days before. Flames shot from the stove and my sweater glowed with embers. For a moment I was a holiday firework display.

"Really, Callie. Next year. Mommy's ready to put it away. Just until next year. Stop crying."

As empathy goes .... I think I was being kind. Putting the decorations up is a one girl job at my house. Besides, lighting myself on fire surely was enough holiday fun for us all.

Awww ... Memories!

Happy New Year 2008!

Check out my blog http://nowweregettingsomewhere.blogspot.com/

New Discussion Topic: C.S. Lewis and Philip Pullman

Happy New Year 2008

New Year’s Eve always brings for me a sense of feeling small but important in an awesome world. As the ball drops and horns blow I think about successes, failed attempts, and future plans. My children’s smiling faces stay rooted in my heart as new hopes whisper in my mind. Comfort and distress twist around each other with enough emotion to stay as I move forward into a new year.

For me New Year’s Day is a place to start. No matter how badly things have gone or how different we would like our lives to be … the new year whispers an opportunity to change who we are … how we see ourselves brushing against and through an ever changing world.

All of us have past days that shine. Days we clutch with both hands and admire when we are feeling down. Holding them close gives us hope.

There are days when I feel off center, separate from my thoughts and those of everyone around me. On these days I cannot label how or why I feel this way. Remembering happier days is how I notice we are constantly moving forward.

No moment will ever be quite like this. These thoughts bring comfort and excitement. They hint at adventure and purpose.

As the New Year rings in I will feel connected to my family, friends, and co-workers. My heart will feel things my mind has not yet seen. New opportunities will unlock with blank roadmaps to follow. Safe travels as you journey forward into 2008.

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Please check out my new addition ... Page B to my page A to read more about new year's traditions. http://nowweregettingsomewhere.blogspot.com/

A Matter of Snow

Snow flurries whispered to earth yesterday afternoon. Ocassionally giant snowflakes piled soundlessly onto branches and fences. It was a mixture of large and small accumulation that lasted a short while. A late Christmas gift that was very much appreciated.

Sipping hot chocolate while dreaming of a white Christmas is an adult lullabye. Kids love snow any day. They dream about snowmen talking and snowball fights. Four year olds think of snow as artistic expression.

Excited shouts rose from my kitchen. Steaming bowls of chicken noodle soup quickly cooled. Three tiny noses pressed hopefully against window panes as they watched our yard turn white.

Callie squealed, "We can make the best snowman. A girl snowman. With a pink scarf."

"Yeah!" Donovan jumped up and down pointing out the window. "I can make a snowball and throw it at Ben."

"No. You cannot throw a snowball at me, Donovan!" Benjamin firmly crossed his arms.

"Okay then." I smile encouragingly. Yesterday's holiday cheer left me with a headache and I see an opportunity for quiet time. "While the snow finishes falling ... how about taking a nap. Just a short one. When you wake up ... we'll put coats, hats, and mittens on. Then we can play outside."

Ben, Callie, and Donovan obediently went upstairs and fell asleep. That quickly. Something unheard of in our house. Nap time is now as endangered as my quiet afternoon coffee break.

While the kids slept it rained. An overly enthusiatic rain that melted the snow. A small amount was left but was quickly evaporated by sunshine.

I heard the kids chattering busily as they ran downstairs. Piles of coats, mittens, hats, shoes, and waterproof pants were scattered across the floor. Everyone looked so happy and I hated to dampen their spirits.

"Kids. Something happened to the snow when you were sleeping. Look outside. It rained and melted the snow. See?" I pulled open the curtains.

In rapid sequence I watched each smile fade. Callie fell to the ground and cried. Ben ignored me and headed for the door. Helplessly I waited for the news to sink in.

Donovan took my hand. "I'll go outside with you."

I patted his head. "There is no snow."

He followed me outside anyway and assessed the situation. "That's okay mom. We can do other fun things inside. How would that be?"

Thankfully I smiled as the other kids followed him to the living room. They quickly threw themselves into play therapy and I freshened my coffee cup.

Up on the Roof Top .....

This Christmas brought a gooey cookie happiness that I did not expect to receive. A gift of peace that thawed four and a half years of obsessed neuroticism. With it came a tender hopefulness that we are "luckier" than I imagined.

Laughter bounced off wooden floors and happy chatter echoed between the walls. Our living room became a hearth of warm merriment. The kind of happiness that melts your heart and makes your eyes shine.

Cookie crumbs and an empty milk glass waited for inspection by the tree. Twinkling lights made wrapped gifts sparkle. Stockings were stuffed with chocolate treats.

Callie shrieked with delight as she shared what she'd heard the night before. "On the roof top I heard jingle bells. They were from the reindeer. I knew Santa would come."

A dozen candy canes hanging from tree branches captured Donovan's attention. "The elves are too short. Santa put them up there!"

Benjamin ripped paper from packages and stopped just once to yell, "Thanks, Santa!"

Not able to stop himself any longer he claimed the prize he had asked for especially in his letter. A miniature baby grand piano. It silently waited for him to play.

Donovan noticed a leftover cookie from Santa's visit. "Can I have the cookie Santa didn't eat?"

I just watched them in wonder. Their belief that anything is possible softened my thoughts. Believing in the joy of a magical world where Santa is the important leader, reindeer play games, elves love the work they do, and cookies are the main food group ... That sounds so pleasant and happy. A fantastic place I want to believe in too.

Sometimes life gets in the way and it is hard to believe in things we cannot see. Days filled with icy rain can leave us wondering if this is all there is . Watching my children dance around my feet causes me pause. There has to be more. A feeling of peace and warmth can only come from more.

M E R R Y C H R I S T M A S
H A P P Y H O L I D A Y S

Thanks so much to those of you who helped Christmas magic along. Cousin Carol asked Santa to send a special letter to our kids from the North Pole. Santa and his photographer, raising money for Lion's Club, were both wonderful. To everyone who sent a card, baked a cookie, or gave a surprise to boost my children's Christmas spirit ... Thank you.


They believe with all their hearts! You can tell by their faces. Without help .... it would be a hard love to pull off.

Snip Snip

Some parenting moments cause my eye to twitch in relentless spasms. Nerves start jumping discreetly in one corner. Before long my eyeball is uncontrollably ticking.

This phenomenon is linked to extreme stress. The kind of stress that happens when your beautiful daughter experiments with scissors. Acute stress resulting from damage only time can fix.

At 8 o'clock last night I pulled into our drive. Meetings at work kept me from tucking the kids in as I like to do. Goodnight kisses are on my list of beloved mommy duties.

Brett tucked the kids into bed at 7 o'clock, turned the hall light on for their comfort (as he has a habit of doing) and fell into bed himself. Working nights exhausts him. When possible he naps.

Callie likes to creep around the house after lights out. She explores, dabbles, and experiments. When caught she usually gets into some degree of trouble. After all ... our kids know sneaking around after being tucked in for the night is a big "NO NO".

Last night she found her way into our bedroom and through the obstacle course of my work related supplies. No sew blankets were made hours before in a craft class. Scissors were left on the floor in my blanket making kit. Gifts for the Parent Holiday Gathering were stacked in front of extra fleece. Beanie stuffed animals and hand/foot print cards stood in the front row. When I am working ... our bedroom can become a dangerous place to walk in the dark.

Somehow Callie managed to locate my scissors. In the dark ... by herself ... she also pretended to be a barber. Not a well trained one either. She snipped and cut until there were three piles of hair on the floor. White scalp streaked the center of her head with choppy black hair plowed on either side. By the time I went upstairs and investigated the pitter patter of little feet it was too late. Just one lone length of hair remained hanging down her back.

To say I was horrified is an understatement. In truth I was devastated. Truly ... my heart broke and I felt physically ill. Stroking the sheared piles of hair I desperately wondered if I could glue it together and make a toupee for Callie. All of that beautiful hair that took 4 and 1/2 years to grow .... gone with one fell swoop.

Today I walked around in a daze. Courageously I touched the wild edges of her hair left behind. After work I went to the store searching for a way to cover up the evidence. A friend suggested earrings .... another friend mentioned rogaine ... I settled on hats.

Tonight I held Callie on my lap. "Even though you did a very naughty thing by cutting your hair .... you are still a very beautiful girl. I would love you even if you were bald."

Callie hugged me. "Mommy I love you too even if you were wrong."

I studied her for one long moment. "What do you mean I was wrong?"

A kiss was planted on my cheek. "I try to do my best but am little ... and ..... make mistakes. you were mad but ..." She takes her hat off and studies her hair with a satisfied grin, "it is already growing."

What kind of response am I supposed to make to that?@!

*The picture captures one of three hair piles.

Winter Wedding Party

Yesterday it was snowing outside and Callie and Donovan announced they were getting married.

The groom is dressed in a suit of armor. A sword swaggers at his side. Boots adorn his feet. Looking very serious he frowns and tells me to clap.

The bride is wearing her favorite princess dress with visible holes in the neck, waist, and hem. A crown of limp rosebuds sits on her head. Because she could not find matching slippers, one is purple and the other is pink.

Benjamin wears a polka dotted hat with a see through vest. His yellow shorts clash with red socks in cowboy boots. I am not sure who he is pretending to be … but he is writing on a doctor’s prescription tablet.

“Play music.” Donovan demands. He clasps twice and the dance begins.

He takes Callie’s hand and they strut across the room. It is a free style dance. There is a lot of dropping to the floor, jumping up and down, and winding until their eyes cross.

Benjamin giggles and tosses the tablet. “I can dance too.” The hat falls to the floor as he does some impromptu flips.

Whether it is a wedding or a circus … one thing is true. I love to see all three kids playing together.

This holiday season I hope you dance and feel merry! Santa is coming to our unit today. I am taking pictures. The kids are decorating gingerbread men this afternoon. The snow is mostly melted. My "to do" list is almost complete. Ho-Ho-Ho

Oklahoma Ice Box

Ice cracks outside a row of lit windows along our street. Limbs sag heavily to the ground. Holiday decorations are encrusted in icy bricks. No need to feel icy wind in my face to know winter swept into town last night.

We are the lucky ones still with electricity. Six hundred thousand people in Oklahoma are cooking on gas stoves, warming themselves by artificial fire, or seeking refuge from the cold inside make-shift shelters.

Seven years ago we were iced in without power for a week in Texas. We huddled together in

frightfully cold conditions making due with fire cooked hot dogs. Showers were cold and infrequent. Water had to be boiled and we did not have a gas stove.

Children make such a difference. Back then I was a cold and bored mother of zero. When the icy weather came I worried about us … Brett and myself. There was nothing else to consider.

Now I worry about my kids. If the power goes out, how will we keep the children warm? Are their favorite snacks and pre-prepared foods stacked in easy reach? Do we have a full tank of gas in the car and extra cash in our wallet in case we need to leave town? Will Callie’s asthma flair up?

Sitting warm and snug

in my living room I watch my children play beneath twinkling tree lights. Christmas music is

serenading us and cookies are cooling in the kitchen.

The phone rings and it is Brett calling to say he is on his way home. We are all healthy, safe, and happy.

As the world outside slumbers beneath blankets of ice we wait comfortably inside. My life's intentions no longer dwell simply on what makes me

happy . More often

than not I strive towards what makes our family happy.

What a difference seven years can make!

Santa Patrol

Inside our bedroom lies an artificial log mocking our authentic fireplace. Darkness erupts to the roof but not even light can pass through. The flue is shut tight.

Imagining flames licking kindling warms my heart. Still I know that not even electric fire will sizzle in our hearth. Benjamin is enthralled with anything resembling candle light and we do not entice him. We constantly tell him, “Fire burns. Do not touch. Ouch, it will hurt.”

Donovan is on Santa patrol. He has been going around with a flashlight making sure all entrances and exits for the “Jolly Big Elf” are in working order. Sticking his head inside our bedroom’s chimney caused me to fail inspection. “Momma, we’ve got a problem here.”

Startled, I ran to the fireplace to see. “What is wrong?”

He has his elf patrol backpack on and inspection gear is in both hands. “Santa can’t get through. No light. Look.” He points his flashlight up.

I stick my head into the chimney. “You are right. No light.”

“Santa won’t be able to get in if there is no light.” Donovan looks at me expectantly.

“He can come in through the door.” Smiling, I believe we’ve solved the problem.

This assumption is w-r-o-n-g.

Frowning, he drops his flashlight and plastic phone. Crossing his arms firmly across his chest he impatiently groans. “Santa cannot come in through the door. Only chimneys. That is where Santa comes in on Christmas.”

“Well, what about kids who live in apartments? Lots of kids live in houses without fireplaces. Then Santa has to come in through the door.” I grin, stand up, and brush off my jeans.

Donovan runs downstairs and calls out. “Momma! We have a problem.”

“Again?” I mutter and follow his voice to the living room. “Now what?”

He points up. “You lock the door.” He points to the deadbolt and chain.

“Santa is magic.” I give him my most fierce “don’t argue with me” look.

Sitting down on the “bad choices bench” I know he is upset. When my children have a choice in seating they never choose the bench. He mutters a sad, “Okay.”

I sit down next to him and place my arm across his shoulder. “Okay Christmas Cookie, what is bothering you?”

Dropping his chin to his chest he shakes his head. “You said we’d write Santa a letter.”

“Let’s write it now.” I stand up to organize supplies.

“There’s a problem.” He points at the mantel in our living room. Beneath sits our living room fireplace.

I freeze.

“You hung the stockings by the tree.” He points towards the window seat.

With accelerated heart rate I hand Donovan two pieces of paper. He has a lot to say. We will write it together. My small son’s wish list and my apology.