I Wanna Hold Your Hand

In my family, we talk a lot about physical features.  My sister's hands and feet are long and slender; we call them Grandma Edna fingers and toes.  My hands are the opposite of hers and I affectionately call them my pirogi fingers.  I have Grandma Midge fingers.  She was a tiny Polish woman who was pretty fierce in the kitchen, hence the pirogi fingers.  To be candid, my ring size is an 8, but I got them upsized so that when my fingers swell I wouldn't feel huge.  (Have you ever seen when a woman's rings are strangling her fingers?  Not attractive.)  It's amazing how these features can define who you are, when I look at my hands I see a hard working woman who was a nurse in WWII and raised 5 girls.

My daughter's hands are beautiful.  They're soft and chubby, kind of like mine.  She's got a powerful grip, always letting me know that she's doing more than hanging on;  she's taking my hand, holding it because she wants to.  I wonder if she will have my features?  If she will be a powerful woman?  Powerful women are awesome, but don't confuse awesome with invincible.  Even powerful women need support.

I want to hold my daughter's hand both literally and metaphorically.  Her tiny hand in mine.  One day, I know that she won't want to hold my hand and that her power will eclipse mine, I am fine with that...  Until then, I'm going to give her my hand every single time she wants it.  I'm going to pull her up and she's going to guide me through this mother-daughter-thing.  So, what I'm trying to say is, look out!, cause here comes another powerful woman; pirogi fingers and all.

A Little Break

Well, I've returned from an unintended mid-spring break.  The time away was for a good reason, I was caught pretty off guard during a family tragedy that I will write about later and needed to take the time to spend with my family in order to be well again.

During the time away, nothing too much happened.  The days went on and the kids grew up; I missed the blog... Is that weird to say?  Probably, but this blog is that feeling I have at 2:00 am when something mom-genuis pops into my head.  It's a guilty little thought when I see the kids doing something awesome that I want to scream and shout about! like Baby girl rolling over at 7 weeks.  Most of all, it's a place where I've been as real as possible about a lot of things: motherhood, my marriage, my family, etc. and this newest chapter is something that I feel compelled to share.

Please be patient with me, I've got a lot of photos to share and little stories to tell.  A kinda big announcement is coming your way by the end of the week, so stay tuned.  Until then, here are some pictures from Mother's Day, please enjoy their simplistic beauty, which translates to a not taking a shower and snapping photos on the iPhone.

The Balance Of Being Three

There's very little that I know for certain in life, but what I do know is that when my sweet, darling boy picks a flower for me at recess and stashes it away in his cubby for me to find when I pick him up at the end of the day, my heart melts.  His kindness and thoughtfulness is really overwhelming sometimes.  Like when he says to me, "I will try not to ever hurt your feelings, Mom!" I know that he means it.

But there are days (many, many days) that are filled with running and jumping and kicking and pushing and shoving and all sorts of rambunctious boy stuff that would test anyone's patience.  So, it's amazing to watch this little balance start to happen.  Cullen is always the first one to exclaim, "you look so pretty, Mom!" when I walk down the stairs, but still has no problem screeching in my face if he doesn't like what I have to say.  I guess it's part of growing up, but since I'm biased  I think he's doing a better job than most kids his age; he has an amazingly kind spirit that literally gives me strength and happiness.

So that flower (which is really a weed, but who's judging?) that he picked got immediately wrapped up in my purse and is going to stay there- a reminder of how a nice gesture brings so much joy to my life.

Bubbles Sleeping

The battle for sleep has been an epic one in our household.  There've been quite a few nights where we've surrendered and slept-four-to-a-bed, and as much as I don't like getting a swift kick to the kidneys, I can honestly say the best thing to see when waking up is a sleep two year old.  He's all sideways in the bed, taking up half my pillow, while I am crammed onto the narrowest ledge of bed, and it's awesome.

It's moments like these, that I will treasure forever- definitely, images like this will flash through my mind as he crosses the threshold into some important parts of life: school, graduation, college, marriage and parenthood.  I will no doubt tell him about these special memories and I only hope that I do them justice and he realizes that even the littlest of moments were so completely loved; how I didn't mind it as much if it meant that I got to start my day seeing him first thing, curled up next to me.

Quiet

Every once in a blue moon, I get a chance to have a few quiet moments to myself and I love it with such abandon that I feel incredibly guilty; for you see, Mother's are supposed to love the hustle and bustle of each day, the interruptions and long hours.  But what happens when you're exhausted and you're doing too much?  What happens when you really like the quiet?

Its 4:49 pm on a Monday and I'm alone.  The air conditioning is humming, the TV is muted while young couples House Hunt, internationally; and I'm sitting here, feeling all sorts of guilty that the kids are at school and I haven't gone to get them yet.  It's somewhat imagined, I know everyone's always saying, "take time for yourself" but it's hard, because taking time comes at a cost; spending time as a family.

I feel strongly that it's healthy to have outlets outside of the four walls of your home; having new experiences with other people makes me, feel refreshed and thankful.  One minute, I can be out with friends (thanks to my husband, who is extremely accommodating with these needs) sharing generalized craziness from my life and the next, I'm home with my family, a place that I strongly feel I need to be and even more-so, where I want to be even.  So, that's the problem, I guess; I want it all.

I'm no different than most other human beings in that I'd like a good life, filled with wonderful and amazing people and things and here's the great part- I have it.  But I'm wise enough to know when I also have too much of a good thing and when I need an afternoon of quietness to make all of the afternoons full of happy chaos… well, happy.

A day like this might not be so bad.