Mother in Training

A journal of thoughts, experiences, trials and joys of being a ceoMom

The Secret

My sister called today and wanted to know if I wanted to set a fun new goal: "Let's try to run 300 miles before the end of the year." I told her I needed to get a calculator and think about that one.

Maybe her phone call set the mood, but I did select a new goal for now until the end the year. It's from Becky Higgins who challenges to take a picture a day. This, of course, means my November and December picture files will be of more than 50 photos of the Thanksgiving turkey table and 50 photos of opening presents. It will push me to document more of the everydayness.

So here's picture one:

This is Anna after coming home from preschool today. She walked in the door ravenously hungry and begged for soup AND Speghettios. I didn't believe her, but she ate nearly the whole can of soup and a half a bowl of Speghettios. After I took this picture and around the time she drained her soup bowl, she told me a few details (in her three year old way) about her day.

Usually she brings home one work of art. Today she brought home two. Apparently her pre-school teacher asked her to re-do her first picture of the Indian teepee ("Anna this won't do") because she scribbled. She showed me the scribbled page and it's true, there are lots of scribbles. I asked her how this made her feel. Anna said she wanted to cry, but didn't tell anyone. She said, "I held it in my heart like a secret."

I hung both teepee pictures up on the bulletin board in the kitchen. There is one with scribbles and one that looks just like the teacher's. I have a secret in my heart right now too. But I'm not going to leave it there. By daughter number four, I know just what I'm looking for in a pre-school. This story at the soup table is not it. I'm glad I wrote this down, but at the same time, I can hardly bear it.

Anyway, I love this little blonde head. She is all goodness and sparkles. Too shiny to have to keep any secrets.

0 comments

To leave a comment please login or register.

Last Night

Last night we went to family night at the Real soccer game. Sarah was especially looking forward to it because she wanted to "pick up some tips" from the players. I took this photo about five minutes before all the fans were instructed to, "walk not run" to the concourse for shelter during the lightening storm. We opted to go home. Disappointing, but at least we heard David Cook sing the National Anthem first.

We had two cars. When given the choice the girls always want to ride with Scott. Not sure why this is. He plays cooler music? Drives faster? Rolls down the windows? But tonight Sarah wanted to ride with me. It's nice to be alone with her. She is a good conversationalist. She asked me lots of questions like, "How was your day?" and "What is your favorite adventure movie?" and "What is your favorite love story?"

Trying to keep up, I asked her the same questions. "So, what's your favorite love story?"

"I think when I'm older, my favorite love story will be my own." This was so sweet and unexpected--I had to ask her to repeat it.

I like riding home with Sarah.

0 comments

To leave a comment please login or register.

Goal!

Sarah scored a goal today. A real goal that soared right into the net just before the end of game. I know it is just Parks and Rec soccer, but I jumped out of my camping chair with both arms in the air as if it was some sort of World Cup game.

My brother recently sent around a video of my eight year old nephew making a free throw at a basketball game. He said watching that shot was more thrilling than any shot he had ever made. He's been the MVP for state tournament games. He's played in college national championships. But the free throw at the rec game trumped it all.

I've never played soccer, but I know what my brother means. When you have children, every wish or dream you've ever had is swallowed up in deeper hopes for them. Any triumph is for them. Any sacrifice is for them. Immediately and without notice, you begin living your life outside of yourself.

It's a risky business to live this way. The other side of great love is the potential for great hurt. I've felt some of this other side, and I'm not anxious for more. I like to hold on to days like today--a day when everyone is cheering, the sun is warm on my chest, and there is nowhere else but the sidelines of a second grade soccer field. He's right--it trumphs it all.

0 comments

To leave a comment please login or register.

Who is this kid?

Recently, in the middle of Anna's playdate with her friend Maren, I had to call Maren's mother. It is the phone call no mother wants to make:

"Hi, ummm, I'm so sorry but Anna cut Maren's hair. Don't worry, it is only cut to the scalp in one place." If we do a comb over for a few months, no one will ever know.

I vacuumed up the clumps of hair from Anna's make shift salon and made a 911 appointment at another. A lot can happen while you're in the shower. Luckily, Maren is a fourth child and her mother is the kindest person in the world.

The other day at the Dollar Store Anna explained in perfect English (to her) and nonsense (to me.) "I am never going to give this ball to Jason because he told his brother that he will never go back to Spiderman until he has that dream again . . . " I hadn't a clue what she was talking about, but after a little bit she looked at me expectantly--waiting for an answer.

All I could think to say was, "I'm sure you'll make the right decision."

She seemed satisfied and nodded, "Exactly."

Last weekend Anna had an infection on the back of leg. We were out of town and ended up in the insta-care clinic. While we were waiting for the doctor, Anna whispered to me, "I am going to be brave," as if she was making a conscious decision about how she was going to handle this situation. When the doctor came, Anna had to lay face down on the table while he lanced her blister. She lifted up her chin and I could see her gritting her little teeth together--trying to keep her resolve. Quietly she started saying, "This hurts. This hurts. This hurts." But she didn't flinch. She didn't cry. She just waited for it to be over.

I watched in wonder. Who is this child? Who is this beautiful, wild three year old who cuts hair and talks nonsense and chooses bravery? Perhaps all of these experiences are little clues about who she is going to become someday.

I've heard some educators theorize that a child is like a lump of clay for us to mold. As I study child number four, I'm quite sure this isn't true. While I certainly have influence, I think raising a child is more like assisting an unfolding. And if I'm careful and don't get too upset over the creases, her potential can stretch and spread into the creation of a magnificent human being. Not a person that I can take any credit for molding, but a girl who came creative and confident and brave from the start. And the best I can claim is to have been the mother who knew it. And told her so.

2 comments

ceoMom 562, Shana

I love Anna and her independence. I need to start thinking like this three year old. And maybe I can turn into the confident adult that I am supposed to be. Minus the in-home salon. I am not cut out for that. Thanks Anna!

ceoMom 649, Letitia

O Anna you adorable, wonderful little girl! Way to go Angel! I remember being the recipient of a haircut from my sister when I was 5 ... we had a good old giggle about it at her 40th last week.
Carrie, you are so right - we don't get to mold them, we just get to give them roots to ground them and wings to soar. Your Anna is destined for great things! Thank you for sharing your memories with us.

To leave a comment please login or register.

How We Spent Our Sunday Afternoon

It's Spring Break (capital letters) and we are spending the week at my parent's vacation house.. Yesterday we performed "The Princess and the Pea" (over and over again.) My ten year old designed the costumes (made the crowns), I directed, and my brother Cory (an orthepedic surgeon) played the prince. Since our audience was so limited, I will try to re-create it for you now.

Prince: "Oh Mother, when will I ever marry a true princess?"

Queen: "Soon son, very soon. That might be her knocking at the door right now."

Princess 1: "I am a true princess. I am wet and need a place to stay."

Princess 2: "I am Cinderella. I am wet and need a place to stay."

Queen: "Okay you can stay here. Climb up this ladder and sleep on these mattresses. I will hide this green jelly bean under here. We'll see if you're a true princess!"

Princess: "Oh I just can't sleep! This is horrible! Are there rocks under here?"

(Next Morning)

Prince: "True Princess, will you marry me?"

Princess 1: "Yes I will!" Kiss kiss.

Prince: "True Princess, will you marry me?"

Princess 2: (Long long pause. Anna: "Say yes Charlotte! Say yes! Just say it!" . . . ) No.

The End

1 comment

ceoMom 649, Letitia

O How Precious! The tears are rolling from laughing so much. What a wonderful recreation of this story - with its own modern twist too. Long live Princesses ;-)

To leave a comment please login or register.