Santa..... Naughty or Nice?????

It has been a long time since I have taken time to blog. Let me prepare you. If you do not have time for a lengthy reading, you may want to walk away now. Electronically, that is. Because boy, oh boy, do I have a tale or two to tell!

First, let me regale you with my favorite Santa of all time.

Bob and I had the great idea this summer to fly with all of our children. All eight of them. By the time we had gotten up at 4am, taken a shuttle to the airport, juggled our 16 bags, children, backpacks, pillows, and anything else we could not really hold, we were tired! Did I mention that in my zeal for safety (confinement of children) we brought THREE full sized carseats? I am certain that in our matching shirts and buried under our mountains of stuff (and carseats) we certainly must have looked like a three ring circus.

Thankfully, we made it on time to board the plane and fly blissfully to Midway airport. By the time we got there, the lack of sleep, combined with the hustle and bustle had the children pretty wound up. They had a great affinity for the moving walkways, so I left Bob and Robby - perfectly content to sit - at our next gate babysitting the things that we still had to lug around with us. The remaining seven children and I (ages 2 to 15) walked up and down those walkways as far as we could go, knowing we had plenty of time before the next plane.
We wound up in a near empty hallway - one end of the terminal that had no waiting passengers, no people at all. We walked to the very end of the concourse, to ensure that we would not disturb anyone, and then I let the kids play in the hallway. I did not think the two people tending the small airport shop would mind too much. After a few minutes, I decided that free play might not be the BEST option for an airport. Instead, I started them to lining up and racing. Much better, right? The lady and the gentleman in the shop began to crack grins, and before I knew it, they were in the concourse, cheering the kids on. It was so much fun to see someone actually enjoying the massive ball of energy known as "the Stowe kids". I was shocked when the lady employee (probably 45 to 50) decided to run with the kids. THIS was definitely out of the ordinary.
At this point, the male employee joined in the fun. With his grandfatherly tone, he informed the children that whoever won the next race would earn a free candy bar. At the mention of candy, shoe strings were summarily tied and large gulps of air were inhaled. They were ready AND focused!
I do not remember exactly who won the race. There were many looks of disappointment until suddenly, both employees announced that they were going in together to buy all of the children candy bars. Needless to say, the children were incredibly happy.

 

At this point, wiggles gone, candy in hand, we were ready to head back to our departure gate. The male employee, with a twinkle in his eye, asked us to wait for a moment. He disappeared into an office and quickly returned with a picture which he proceeded to sign for us. The younger of the 4 children suddenly spouted eyeballs the size of paper plates. I whispered that we had accidentally stumbled upon Santa in hiding. This picture is now a treasured memento, reminding them that Santa is kind, also that Santa is ALWAYS watching.

After such a feel good story, I am hesitant to tell you the story of the bad Santa.  The one that needed to back for more training in parental correctness of the response variety.  I am hesitant, especially because it required me to use some "creative parenting", coersion, or guilt as my momma would have called it.  Don't think I'm horrible.  I, too, am just a mother, stumbling along, learning as I go........

Christmas with a large family is nothing, if not challenging.  Thankfully, Bob gets enough of a bonus, that if the right deals are shopped, it is generally memorable.  Somehow, we always end up with more than I had expected.  Perhaps that is what happens when you start looking at the deals on December 26th.
One thing that our children particularly love is the toy catalogs.  Really, what red blooded child does not love sitting down with The Gynormous Book of Greed.....uuum Toys, right?

This year, one of my children spotted a toy that he really wanted.  Badly.  Isn't that how they want everything?  So badly they might die without it?  Justin, my  sweet wonderful nine year old pointed to the picture and began explaining to me all the features of this gizmo.  It was a remote contol car.  With a camera.  That attaches to your compuer.  So you can drive it with your computer.  And see where it is driving while it is recording.

 

WOW!!!!  That was a toy!  

The downside was that said toy retailed for over $300.  And that was waaaaaaay over his budget!  I patiently explained that even Santa has to be careful on what he spends, because he must bring toys to all the boys and girls all over the world. Justin continued to study that picture for days on end, finally asking me the question "do you think Santa will bring it for me if I promise not to ask for ANYTHING in the next three years?".  Poor little guy was very crestfallen when I gently told him that was not how it worked.  We discussed other toys, deciding on several other options that he would be happy with.  In my mind, the problem was solved.
       I should have known that sweet, wonderful Justin is also a planner.  He likes to figure things out and make them work.  Last night, as he sat on Santa's lap, I am sure he thought he had an ace in the hole.  "I want a remote control car with a camera that you can drive with your computer" he told Santa.  After he had his 2 minutes of Santa time, he came to find me - helping to clean up from the party.  "GUESS WHAT?????  Santa told me that I can have the camera car!!!!!  He said that as long as I make sure I use it carefully, he will bring it!".  At this point, I glance up to see the Jolly red suited, white bearded man on the stage and wondered if he was sleeping during his Santa Training.  I could only think of how sad, how disapointed this little guy would be on Christmas morning when that car did not arrive.  I had to think of my own "end run", my own way to right this wrong.
      Thankfully, my mother was the master of guilt.  She trained me well.  On the way home, I told Justin that I had spoken to Santa before we left.  I informed him that Santa would, indeed, bring him the car, but that would mean the rest of the family would get no presents at all.  I told him that Santa had not known about the expense of the car, and because he promised to bring it, he would just bring Justin a present, not anyone else.  Then I gave Justin an out.  I told him that if he wanted, and if he thought it was right, he could always write Santa and tell him that he did not need the car, that the other toys would be fine.
     He sat pondering at the kitchen counter after we got home, laboriously scribbling out a note for Santa.  A note that I will keep forever.  A note of humility, a hint of sadness, and a note of giving.

Hopefully, Justin will be very happy with his laser remote control car, and his mp3 player (already purchased, I might add).  Hopefully he will not be scarred for life.  

Bob says it reminds him of The Christmas Story.  You know "you'll shoot your eye out?"

Guess I should finally watch it and see how it turns out!

I am thinking I need to "rite" a very very very nice letter from Santa

    

B.M.S.

If you dream it in a dream, it has to be true, right?  I sure hope not.  Last night, or maybe even very early this morning, I had a very sad dream.  In this dream, I was accused by an acquaintance of having B.M.S.  I awoke upset, unnerved, and trying to scrape up every ounce of denial I could find.  And in the end, when I look the nocturnal judgment square in the face, I find that it is probably true. 

This syndrome causes me to be forgetful, to decline friendly invitations, to feel a growing desire to become a hermit and even stop spending any time with my friends.  Other side effects include lack of sleep, inability to focus and concentrate, unusual amounts of irritation, sometimes leading to flashes of anger, and ‘the stare’.  This is the glazed over look that sometimes appears on my face.  I remember it so well on the face of my own mother.  She would just sit and stare straight through me sometimes.  And now, my children say the same thing – “WHAAAAAAT?”  As in What are you staring at me for??????

What, you may ask, could be causing such a wide variety of symptoms?  The sickness is one that has worsened during the month of October.  I believe it has been brought on by a new training that I needed to take.  This training has, in essence, locked me in my home office for an additional four hours per weekday as an internet based teacher attempted to come through my computer screen and headset and fill my head with all kinds of knowledge about systems, orders, customer courtesy, missing photo orders, how to fill a contact lens prescription, answering emails in a non-robotic manner, and how to walk an 80 year old man through the process of getting photos from his new digital camera into our computer system.  Whew.  It is really no wonder I am having so many side effects.

As I return to the memory of the dream, to the memory of the words said, the worst effect seems to be that I no longer have enough time for my friends.  I am crossing my fingers that as October ends, and the training ends with it, I will find the time, or the ability to overcome the dreaded B.M.S. and become friendly and alive again.  To again take time to be a good friend.  To communicate, laugh, and sometimes go to lunch with a friend.  

And most of all, to remember that my syndrome – Busy Mom Syndrome –  is one from which I can recover.  With a little help from my friends.  

Unexpected gifts

I will admit it. I love to plan. Wait – I think I have confessed this before. It may be a recurring theme. I think that in some scenarios, the words “control freak” may have been tossed around. I try not to be too offended.


You see, I am more comfortable when I can plan what is coming my way, when I can have an organized schedule to follow, when life is predictable.

I think I can now attribute this need for pattern, for stability to a lifetime spent trying to figure out how to appear normal while I struggled with many of the symptoms of ADD. I must have learned early on that if I could plan enough, and map it all out, then no one would be able to tell how difficult things really were for me. This has definitely carried over into my adult life.

Did I mention ADD tendencies? Let me try to get back to the topic at hand. Something about planning, control, schedules……..

Almost 7 years ago, I was at the end of my proverbial rope. I had a very busy job in our church, we lived in a small home with one bathroom, and had six young children who kept me very busy. The new baby was a tiny one at the time of his birth. Weighing in at only 5 lbs, 7 oz., he was determined (and still is) to make his wants and needs known. He was very loud and very frequent with his demands.

It was at this point that I informed Bob that I was finished. “Six is a great number of children” I informed him through clenched teeth. He patiently told me that it was fine if we only had six, but also reminded me of our plan. The plan we made all those years ago, when we still had stars in our eyes, sleep under our belts, and money in our wallets. In those idyllic days, we had decided that 8 was the perfect number of children for our family.

I can still see it, as if in slow motion. I think there might be a cartoon speech bubble perched over my head, as the words tumbled out of my mouth. “It would take an act of God.” Reminder to self – be careful what words fill your cartoon speech bubble.

Just about one year later, I found I was pregnant again. To say I was upset is probably an understatement. I cannot begin to count the hours I cried, the questions I asked, the recriminations I hurled skyward. I did not understand how I could possibly be a mother to one more child when my life was so full already. I spent the pregnancy in various stages of anger, denial, and quasi acceptance. In the background was always a hint of panic. This was not part of the new plan. I was not ready to fit this into a schedule. How in the world would I be able to cope?

Each year in August, before the children go back to school, it is customary for Bob to give each of the children a blessing. Fatherly words of encouragement, advice, that they can carry with them as they enter the new school year. That year, as I sat with my hands on my overly large belly, knowing our new baby was but a month from being born, I requested a blessing for myself. With that simple prayer came a feeling of peace, love, a feeling of wellbeing that carried over to the delivery.

Matthew was born on September 21st. His name means “gift of God”. And he has been. The gift I did not know I wanted. The gift I would not want to live without.

He was a gift in more ways than one. Within moments of his birth, feeling the overwhelming happiness at no longer being pregnant, and no longer being in labor, I was handed a tightly wrapped bundle of crazy black hair, large brown eyes, and the roundest cheeks. As I looked at him, I had an instant of clarity. I dragged my eyes away from this precious baby, and again the speech bubble formed over my head. “OH NO!!!” Were the words that came out of my mouth this time. Bob hurried near to see what the problem was with our new baby. The problem was the realization that came with this child #7.

“There is one more” I said – hardly believing that I could feel it with such certainty, with no doubt, after months of trying to cope with something out of my control.

Somehow, this foreknowledge made all the difference. Exactly two years later, when my doctor offered to induce me with baby #8, I was ecstatic. What a wonderful thing – for these two boys, the ones I had not planned on – to enjoy their birthdays together.

Yesterday, as we celebrated birthdays, the 5th for Matthew, and the 3rd for Evan, I was again so very grateful for the wonderful gifts God has given to me. For all of my planning, I could have never known that I would be so content, so happy. I would not have expected that as I tuck these little boys into bed at night, oftentimes, I do it with an extra kiss, an extra long hug thinking of how precious they are. How much they have added to the rich texture of my life.

I see now, perhaps as He saw then that I am not ready to be finished mothering little ones just yet. I am not yet ready to be home alone during the day. I still love the sound of laughter as they dig in the dirt, or splash their toys in the bathroom sink. These two gifts are the only ones with me now when school is in and I love it. Hopefully I will be able to deal with an empty house one day, but I am so grateful it is not yet.

For now, I will continue to plan, to schedule, to work for order and normalcy. I will also try to be better about leaving room for His plan. Knowing that He is the only one who can see from beginning to end. I can only see to the next corner, and will work to have faith that He will guide me the rest of the way. I will continue to marvel at these two precious gifts.

Never. Ever. Ever.

Never, ever, ever. Absolutely not.

 Those are the words I have used, when talking about letting a child sleep in our bed. I have laughed in the face of parents who have unwittingly set themselves up for a lifetime of sleep deprivation by allowing kicking, squirrely toddlers into their bed at night. Admittedly, I have snuggled with a newborn, and with a nursing baby – in hopes of sneaking in a few minutes of sleep here and there. Yet, in all these years of raising children, we have NEVER had a toddler in our bed.

Until now. I guess this is my punishment for being so adamant. My just due. My payment for being such a militant sleep Nazi. At this point, I am more humble. Perhaps I am even teachable. I definitely feel as if I do not know it all. Because this morning, Evan slept in our bed.


I am not sure what caused the sleep problem. From the day he was born, he has been my best sleeper. He was just the blessing we needed as we worked to remodel our entire home, from the inside out. We packed, painted, carpeted, painted some more, packed even more, made children sleep on mats on the floor. All in an effort to get ready to sell our house, while in the process of building our new one. And through all of this stress, he slept.

Upon moving to the new house, he continued to be a wonderful sleeper. I picked up a part time job that I could do from home, knowing that I could depend on him having a two to three hour nap every day without fail. He would fall into a blissful slumber, and I would go to work, answering sales calls with no worry as to what I would do if he woke early.

And then two weeks ago, I took a much need vacation. I went to education week at BYU with my sister, a friend, and a niece. For me, those two days gave me a new rejuvenation – a new determination to go forward with faith, to depend more on the Savior instead of myself, to find a time for reverent contemplation. It was wonderful.


For Evan, it was two day spent with his siblings. Two days spent with some rather loud thunderstorms. From that point on, Evan has not slept well. And that is an understatement. He wakes in the middle of the night screaming about the thunder. Even when there is none. Leigh Ann, the other mother upstairs (age 13) would try to put him back to bed, but eventually, he would drag his blanket and pillow and bunk down on her bedroom floor.


Since that time, we have tried everything we can think of. Letting him sleep on her floor (alarm wakes him up way to early), Letting them sleep together so he won’t be afraid (still gets out of bed at 5:30 with her), putting him back into the crib (who knew he could crawl out soooooo fast!), and finally, making him a little bed on our bedroom floor – from which point, I can easily comfort him if he has a hard time.


This morning, however, with the holiday, we broke THE RULE and let him get into our bed at about 6 am. The problem is, it was wonderful!!! What a snuggly little guy. So content to put his arm around me and keep on sleeping. I have never had this experience before. By the time my other children were two years old, they had a new sibling who demanded mom’s full attention. This is the first time I have had a child of almost three who has me to himself.  I am pretty sure I could get used to this!


I am hoping that this sleep disturbance will iron itself out as he realizes Mom is not leaving again.  That he will not be on my floor, or in my bed forever.  But I think I will savor the moment and snuggle with him while I still can.  Savor an experience that I have not had before.  And hope that one day, when he feels secure enough, he will return to his own bed - and that I won't be too lonely then.

Calming the Stormy Seas

Sometimes, I feel like this.

Kind of scattered and spread pretty thin

I got to church this morning, and since my two littlest boys were home with

colds, I had time to look at that feeling, and to evaluate it. 

Within a few minutes, I decided that sometimes, I also feel like this

On the verge of being swallowed by a very large wave.  Trying desperately to

keep my footing, and failing. 

As I evaluated these feelings of turmoil, I first did as I always do. 

I justified these feelings by looking at the crazy life I lead.  The crazy life

I have chosen. 

I probably could have added in a picture of a juggler.  I feel like that too.  A lot.  

Numerous items swirl in my brain.   Appointments that need to be made, meetings

that need to be attended, dates that need to be remembered, laundry that still needs to be folded, school shopping that needs to be done,  a yard that desperately needs the help of an entire landscaping company. 

And suddenly, I had a moment of clarity in the stormy ocean of thoughts

A thought about an ocean

about a storm

about a swirling sea

And again, I knew

what I have been taught again and again

In a stormy sea, there is only

ONE

who can command the wind and the waves

only ONE

who can calm the sea

only ONE

who can help me when I feel so scattered, so incapable

As I paged through my Bible, re-reading references to the incident when Christ did calm the seas, I came upon another reference.

                                      Where Christ asks for Peter's faith
                                                     in a stormy sea
                                            And wondered to myself

                       with all the worrying, with all the chruning thoughts
                                         how do I compare to Peter?


22 ¶ And straightway Jesus constrained his disciples to get into a ship, and to go before him unto the other side, while he sent the multitudes away.

23 And when he had sent the multitudes away, he went up into a mountain apart to apray: and when the evening was come, he was there alone.
24 But the ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves: for the wind was contrary.
25 And ain the fourth watch of the night Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea.

26 And when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, It is a spirit; and they cried out for fear.
27 But straightway Jesus spake unto them, saying, Be of good acheer; it is I; be not afraid.

28 And Peter answered him and said, Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water.

29 And he said, Come. And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the water, to go to Jesus.

30 But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was aafraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me.

31 And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little afaith, wherefore didst thou bdoubt?

32 And when they were come into the ship, the wind ceased.

33 Then they that were in the ship came and worshipped him, saying, Of a truth thou art the Son of God.

                    And it came to me, the words of Christ, in the Bible.

                      O thou of little afaith, wherefore didst thou doubt



               Knowing that He can bring Peace, that He can work miracles
                             I will begin to ask for mercy in my life
                                that mine can become one of peace
                                   that I can be a part of a miracle
                              that He will help calm my stormy seas.

The Crib

The End of an era

     In actuality, there were two cribs. The first, purchased at a local thrift store. Previously owned, still in good condition. We, as new parents, and new homeowners, trying to conserve money decided it was a viable option. Not the crib in the magazines, not the crib of our dreams. A sister loaned us a bumper pad full of bright colors guaranteed to make our child start learning from his very first moments. That crib filled us with such excitement, visions of first child, a first creation.

     Eventually, that same crib housed 4 children. Each child being summarily pushed out of the nest by the subsequent sibling. Each graduating to a bed while the new baby made good use of the crib. After 4 children, the pre-owned crib developed enough cracks and bends that it needed to be replaced.

     This time, however, we decided to purchase a new crib. Still not the crib of our dreams, but a real improvement over our starter model. A crib that could house more children, and eventually grandchildren. Hindsight says that perhaps, had we started with a new crib, we would have been able to use it for all of our children. They say hindsight is 20/20.

     Four more children have put that new crib to good use. There are teeth marks on the rail, dents from toys tossed with too much exuberance, the springs under the mattress have managed to withstand jumping not only by the baby, but also by the siblings, as they have sometimes sneaked in, one by one to entertain the current baby by pretending they were, indeed, monkeys, jumping on the bed.

     This week – for the first time in 17 years, there is no baby in our crib. My emotions have fallen short of my expectations. There is only a hint of sadness, no tears, and little longing for days gone by. This causes me to wonder. Now that my baby is three years old, what do I feel? It is not a yearning for another baby in the crib.

     Strangely, the empty crib has brought with it a feeling of finality. An overall satisfaction of a job well done. I feel as if Bob and I have completed one part of a task that we set out to do. I remember dates spent, long walks, learning all about each other before we were married, talking about the elusive future. We agreed then that eight would be our ideal number of children. Reality set in with each child. There was always the thought, the question – could I really do it again? After child number 6 was born I was ready to be finished. Ready for a break from the constant demands placed on my body, on my time, and on my sanity. I feel exquisite gratitude for a Father in Heaven who seems to know me better than I know myself. Who sent me two more children to help me feel whole……complete…..satisfied.

     I am so grateful for the crib, now standing empty in the guest room. Willing to be used by whatever parents have a need. But my profound gratitude exists with those eight babies who each took their turn in the crib. For the memories created, that will last me a lifetime, each time I pass by the crib.

Dirt, Rocks and Tractors

What more can a little boy ask for?

     I am not much of a day trip mom.  For entertainment, we generally go to the local park, the library, and sometimes, if the children are really good, we go to Wal Mart!  We visit cousins, play in the yard, and have late night movies with friends.  But day trips are rare for us. 

      This week, one of my sisters called to tell me that there was free admission to the Kenecott Copper mines.  FYI, the normal cost is only $5 per car, or in our case huge van.  That amount certainly would not break the bank, but it was just the spark that we needed to pile in the van and head north. 

     I was not sure I would enjoy the mine.  I was, after all, the one who walked 6 blocks out of the way in the sweltering heat of D.C. to see the air and space museum only to get there and think "this is it?"  I figured it was worth the risk as 4 out of my 6 boys are obsessed with dirt, rocks and tractors. 

Apparently, this is what happens if you start with a mountain and dig for 100 years.  Keep in mind, we are not talking beach shovel digging.  We are talking about BIG diggers.

This was a picture they had in the museum to show us the size of the dump trucks being used.  From where we stood looking down into the mine, they looked like matchbox cars!

Matthew must have thought he had died and gone to heaven.  He has now decided that instead of being a farmer, he will work in the mine and "dwive a big twacto"

Once I explained that this implement of destruction was a drill bit, the boys wasted no time testing it's real time applications.  There was a lot of giggling and yelling for help as they pretended to have their arms gound to bits.

After our visit to the mine, we visited the tiny town of Copperton.  I never did see a grocery store or a gas staion, but I will give them kudos for having the most original park ever!

      This day, visiting the mines turned out so well, I am already wondering where I should take them next!

Very unexpected diagnosis

     Today we made our trek to the A.D.H.D. Doctor.  Thank heavens, we only have to do this once every three months.  We go over health, weight gain for the boys (Robby and Justin), questions, behaviors and anything else that might be a concern.

     For 7 years, I fought with Robby.  Begged, pleaded and cajoled.  Punished, promised and rewarded.  And nothing worked.  In the 9th grade he was getting by with a few d's, interspersed with some c's and f's.  Definitely not every parent's dream.

     I worried endlessly about what kind of a future he could have.  Where he would end up in life with such an educational mountain to scale.  I talked to everyone I knew, trying to get more advice about how I could interest him in his school work.  How I could track his progress, stay on top of his assignments, did I need to home school him (and could I do it without loosing my mind).

    Finally a good friend mentioned that I might want to have him tested for ADHD.  Did I mention that I have a degree in elementary ed?  And that I thought ADHD was a made up disease that really equated to too much sugar, video games and television and not enough parental involvement?  Add to this that Robby has never shown any signs of hyperactivity. 

     Maybe someone had mentioned it to me before.  If so, I had not been willing to listen.  Diagnosis?  ADHD - no hyperactivity involved.  A week on the wonder drug and my life was changed.  Homework was being done AND turned in.  Teachers were praising concentration in school.  Grades flew through the roof.
The child who I had complained so much about had suddenly become a model child.  Fast forward 2 1/2 years - I am soooooo grateful for that diagnosis.  So thankful that there was a way to pull his wandering thoughts down into reality.  Happy beyond belief to see him building computers, running an entire auditorium of lights and sound, wiring together thingamabobs that I can never hope to understand.

     Having learned the lesson with Robby - when Justin began exhibiting the same behaviors in 2nd grade - an inability to focus in our out of the classroom, avoidance behaviors to distract me from the fact that he could NOT do the work, and  poor school work  I knew just what to do.

     I wonder how many years of frustration we could have saved with Robby, had we just known sooner.  I look forward to seeing how great Justin will become without having all the hurdles that his brother had.
     And just when you think you have reached the end of my diatribe.   I told the doctor today that sometimes, as I hopped from one activity to another like a brainless bird, I sometimes wondered if I had ADHD.
     He handed me a piece of paper and as I read it, tears pooled in my eyes.  I remembered the little girl who cried with frustration all through her elementary school years.  The teen that got mostly c's with a few b's interspersed despite spending hours trying to get it right.  The young adult that felt as if she was hanging on to a ledge by her fingernails as she worked to get through college.

     And I wondered.  Could this be right?   Pretty compelling thought when you score on the ADHD side of the line 6 out of 6 times.  This labels ME as an adult with ADHD.    Maybe the test is not conclusive enough.

     But perhaps the overwhelming frustrations I felt at Robby's inability

were only memories of my own

Beach Heaven

  It is hard not to wish that every week could be like the one we just spent at the beach. In one word, I would have to describe the week as heavenly.

      Six of my parent’s 10 children rented a house on the beach in North Carolina for the week. 14 adults and 24 children in a 10 bedroom duplex. Our loose schedule included playing on the beach, swimming in the water, building masterpieces in the sand, and riding huge green alligators, interrupted only by meal times and nap times.

     The evenings were spent playing games with the children, and finally, putting them – exhausted from the sand and sun – into bed. At this point, the adults seemed to reverse roles, becoming the children, the siblings of yesteryear. Visiting, playing cards, eating fun treats, and enjoying the bonds that siblings share. Can you see why it seemed so heavenly?

     Heaven, for me, besides the sun, sand and waves, is the extended family feeling. Children going from one side of the beach house to the other, parents helping to keep tabs on all of the children, not just their own. Cousins and cousins and more cousins. Running, playing, taking only minutes to remember each other as best friends from last year. It was so very reminiscent of my own childhood, of our trips to the grandparent’s farm for a week each summer.

And suddenly, the cost of travel, the stress of airplanes and rental cars, the one bedroom living – all becomes immaterial.

 It is all worth it when you get to spend a week with your family in heaven.

.

I wanted to teach them

I wanted to teach them

      I love to plan. Sometimes I feel like good planning can make or break me in this crazy life full of children that I love. While planning our trip back east this year, I began thinking about the uproar in our country, the hard economic times, the political turmoil. I began to think about how important it is for my children to understand their role in this country. To understand that this is their country. I saw the possibility of spending a day in Washington DC with my family and began to plan.

     I wanted to stay near the big city the night before, and get up bright and early. I wanted to start the day eager, excited, ready to learn and to teach.  I had a picture in my mind of matching tee shirts, enabling us to stay together.  Of children listening attentively as a presenter spoke about the heroic soldiers who have fought and died for this county.  I imagined looks of awe on little faces as they compared the gigantic statue of
Abraham Lincoln to the picture on the back of a penny.  Delight, as they saw the airplanes in the air and space museum - saying again and again  - "this is just like it was on the movie!"

     Perhaps in my planning, I should learn to leave a little room for reality.   Here was our trip to DC in a nutshell.
We got on the metro pretty early everyone was in a good mood and very excited.  Mom and Dad may have been gasping a little at the cost of metro tickets times 10.

They all seemed to enjoy the metro ride, especially the big one pulling faces in the front.

The bright red shirts worked out well.  It was easy to pair the children up and keep watch on where everyone was.  Thank heavens, none of ours got lost in DC today.  I cannot imagine how to find anyone there.  There was and overwhelming number of people. 

I think that by the time we got off the metro it was 100 degrees.  I had not planned for that at all.  We walked a lot.  The kids all think we walked for a million miles.  Did I mention that the humidity was very high also?  I believe we were all dripping with sweat.

I have never been so glad to see a lawn being watered in my life.  The kids were so very happy to play in it for a few minutes.  It really made the heat bearable for about 1/2 hour.

It was great when kind people stopped staring and counting and offered to take our family picture instead.  More than once, we had a tourist walk buy and aim a camera right at our large group. 

Perhaps we will be famous one day.

We were able to visit the Korean War memorial.  I can't help think of my own brothers and uncles who have served in wars throughout the years.  Of the sacrifices they have made so that we can have the freedoms that we have today.

This was my favorite statue.  Some students near us were talking about how it represented Faith (soldier praying at the far left), Hope (soldier in the back looking up, perhaps for helicopter assistance) and Charity (nurse holding injured soldier).  I tried to help my children understand that we can have all of these attributes at once if we remember them and practice them.

I had a moment of outrage at the signature line on this public vehicle.   Do people in DC really

NOT remember the Boston Tea Party? 

By all that is fair, that tag line should begin with a NO

And this is how our trip to the city of Washington DC ended.  Hot, sweaty, and having walked that proverbial million miles.   Even the air and space museum at the end of the day was lacking luster because we were too tired to enjoy it.  

    My day certainly did not go as planned.  Parts of it worked out well.  Parts of it worked out not so well.  Maybe it would have been good to remember that we got married in DC 20 years ago in June and it was HOT and HUMID!!!

      I know that our children probably did not have a life altering experience today.  They most likely did not have a light bulb go off in their heads as they said "ohhhhhhh, now I get it."

      My hope is that through their lives, they will be able to look back to this very hot, very tiring day.  They will be able to see the sacrifice involved in us bringing them to the nation's capitol.   They will feel the importance of the things they have seen, and know that it is their responsibility, and their right, to be involved.  To be good citizens.  To teach their own children when the time comes.