Our rambunctious Camryn Alyssa is now five years old. It's amazing to see the transformation from the biggest tantrum-throwing toddler to the most helpful, sensitive and caring girl I know. Camryn is the epitome of Daddy's girl. She loves me, but she has noted more than once that she loves Daddy the most, then Mommy, then...etc etc. She often cries when he leaves, constantly asks me when he's getting home and absolutely must have her final kiss of the night from him. Every now and then I get the honor, but on most days, Daddy wins her heart. We seem to be even though because Brielle shows no favoritism and Kendall requires me to put her to bed. I'd say that's pretty even Steven.
So today, I was upstairs getting dressed when I heard sniffling coming from Camryn's room. I went in to see what was wrong and she just started crying more. I asked her what was wrong and she said, "I did something awful." In my head I'm thinking, "Ugggghhhhh.....what now," but I just gently asked her to tell me. She told me that if she told me, she was afraid I would be really mad. I promised her I would not get mad if she was honest with me. So she started her story about how Brielle was agitating her and how she told her to stop, but she wouldn't. (Something to do with the sandbox and a sand toy....really serious stuff). I'm pretty confused in the midst of the story, because at the rate it was going, I was certain it was going to end in her either punching Brielle or throwing something at her, but I know I would have heard crying from Brielle if that had happened. So after Brielle wouldn't stop bothering her, she told Brielle that she takes back all the times she told her that she loved her. After this admission, she just started wailing. I'm embarrassed to admit that I said, "So what did you do that was so awful?" I guess I was just really expecting her to tell me that she hit her. So she said, "I just told you." OH. RIGHT. OF COURSE. She was so upset with Brielle, she told her that she doesn't love her. That is a big deal. From here, I went into auto pilot parenting mode and just helped her understand that she was just angry and didn't really mean it, but that it was important that she tell Brielle she is sorry for the mean words. She told me that she already did say sorry and hugged her, too. She was just still that upset because it hurt her to say that out loud. She stopped crying and seemed to feel better. So I went back into my room to finish getting dressed.
Camryn walks in with a piece of paper and a pen in the shape of lipstick and says, "Mommy, how do you write 'I love you, Brielle?'" [insert awwwwwwwwww]
My lesson for the day: Words really are powerful. Camryn has beat the crap out of Brielle many times, but I have never seen her so upset or remorseful as she was today. I've been replaying this in my mind all day because I am so ashamed by my initial reaction. I want her and all my kids to continue to understand the power of words. I used to read the Bible all the time in my teenage years and I don't remember what the scripture says, but I just remember my youth group leader always chanting "James 3" to us. I don't even remember what it says in James 3, but I keeping thinking James 3. I'm pretty sure I need to go read that again and explain it to the girls after I read it a few more times to myself.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
The Storm Book
A few weeks ago, I signed up to be a "Mystery Reader" in Brielle's 1st grade classroom. Mystery Reader is a parent volunteer who comes in to read a story to the children during their afternoon snack time. The mystery is that the students never know is coming in (duh).
Well, Brielle happens to have only the best 1st grade teacher EVER. We love her anyway, and she has read every possible good book to these kids already. I wanted to pick a book that Brielle loves, but one they haven't read in class before. So I ended up choosing The Storm Book by Charlotte Zolotow. It's kind of an old book--published in either the 1940s or 1950s and has a lot of wordy descriptions, but Brielle has loved it since she was three. She has always been kind of an "old soul." I was nervous about my choice, because I didn't want to show up to her class and bore her classmates.
The first best thing that happened was when I showed up. My given time was 1:45 and I showed up to the room by around 1:43. Her teacher gave me the "almost ready" look when she saw me in the doorway. I am in love with this teacher's precision with time management. Brielle was at her desk finishing up her task when she looked up and saw me. The smile on her face was priceless. She tried to wipe it off for a second, but just couldn't. I'm not sure how long that type of reaction will happen when she sees me at her school, in front of her friends, but I'm going to wallow in this memory for as long as I can.
When I entered the room, Miss Heistand said, "Brie, do you want to get a chair for Mom?" Brielle quickly set up my chair in the front of the room while all her friends confirmed with her that that was her Mom. (This was not the first time I had been in her class, but it was the first time I had such a prominent position).
Before I read, I of course had to employ my English teacher strategies and try to make student connections to the book. I asked the students if they've ever watched a thunder storm roll in. They were so excited to raise their hands and blabber all their stories. Meanwhile, Brielle was just sitting at her desk with the biggest smile. As her classmates got more and more excited, she just smiled bigger and bigger. I asked the students to pay extra close attention to how the author uses a lot of fancy words to help them picture in their mind what is going on. I told them that this is called "imagery," but I'm not sure if they caught that or not.
The students seemed to really enjoy the story, which made me happy. I was so afraid they were going to be bored and it was somehow going to have this lifelong impact on Brielle's social life. (I know, could I be any more dramatic???)
The pride beaming across my daughter's face was a moment that I just never want to forget. The more the students participated in the story, the bigger her smile grew. She loved that I was there. She loved that her classmates liked one of her favorite books. She was elated.
And so am I.
Well, Brielle happens to have only the best 1st grade teacher EVER. We love her anyway, and she has read every possible good book to these kids already. I wanted to pick a book that Brielle loves, but one they haven't read in class before. So I ended up choosing The Storm Book by Charlotte Zolotow. It's kind of an old book--published in either the 1940s or 1950s and has a lot of wordy descriptions, but Brielle has loved it since she was three. She has always been kind of an "old soul." I was nervous about my choice, because I didn't want to show up to her class and bore her classmates.
The first best thing that happened was when I showed up. My given time was 1:45 and I showed up to the room by around 1:43. Her teacher gave me the "almost ready" look when she saw me in the doorway. I am in love with this teacher's precision with time management. Brielle was at her desk finishing up her task when she looked up and saw me. The smile on her face was priceless. She tried to wipe it off for a second, but just couldn't. I'm not sure how long that type of reaction will happen when she sees me at her school, in front of her friends, but I'm going to wallow in this memory for as long as I can.
When I entered the room, Miss Heistand said, "Brie, do you want to get a chair for Mom?" Brielle quickly set up my chair in the front of the room while all her friends confirmed with her that that was her Mom. (This was not the first time I had been in her class, but it was the first time I had such a prominent position).
Before I read, I of course had to employ my English teacher strategies and try to make student connections to the book. I asked the students if they've ever watched a thunder storm roll in. They were so excited to raise their hands and blabber all their stories. Meanwhile, Brielle was just sitting at her desk with the biggest smile. As her classmates got more and more excited, she just smiled bigger and bigger. I asked the students to pay extra close attention to how the author uses a lot of fancy words to help them picture in their mind what is going on. I told them that this is called "imagery," but I'm not sure if they caught that or not.
The students seemed to really enjoy the story, which made me happy. I was so afraid they were going to be bored and it was somehow going to have this lifelong impact on Brielle's social life. (I know, could I be any more dramatic???)
The pride beaming across my daughter's face was a moment that I just never want to forget. The more the students participated in the story, the bigger her smile grew. She loved that I was there. She loved that her classmates liked one of her favorite books. She was elated.
And so am I.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
On body parts...
I decided to commit to writing more because I love recording memories and thoughts. I have a few fun ones tucked away that I decided needed to be documented...and shared in case anyone actually does read this.
Having three daughters has not left much room for curiosity in terms of body parts. Considering some of the inquiries that come from my girls' mouths, I am dumbfounded that they never asked 1. How babies are made (thank Gaaaawwwd) and 2. What is the difference between boys and girls. Actually, they probably assume the answer to both questions is obvious: Answer 1: God (which is their answer to any unanswerable question and Answer 2: Boys have short hair and girls have long hair, right?
Well, we've had two memorable conversations regarding the latter.
The first dates back to when Brielle was two years old and Camryn was just a wee baby. Up to this point, Greg could usually still pee with the door open and get into the shower without any disruptions. One morning, I was making the bed, Brielle was playing in our room and Greg was getting ready to get into the shower. Sorry for the visual, but it gets worse. All I heard was the shower water running, the door open as he went to step in and Brielle screaming, "DADDY, WHAT'S COMING OUT OF YOUR BUTT?"
Horrified, Greg said, "I hope nothing!"
Side note: Our girls call both the front and back a "butt." I know it's wrong, but they just assumed and again, I just let them assume. It came out of Brielle's mouth in one of her early days and we kind of just went along with it. She's the oldest, so naturally everything she says is right, so the others just followed suit.
The best part is that Greg actually feared something was, unbeknownst to him, coming out of his butt as he stepped into the shower.
Brielle has an almost frighteningly precise memory, but she did happen to block that one out. Understandable.
Fast forward to last summer when Brielle had just turned six and Camryn just turned four. Camryn was attending "Water Week" camp at United Sports, where children ages 4-7 enjoyed various water activities, thus requiring bathing suits and the changing of clothes.
One night during dinner, Camryn decides to kick off the family conversation with, "I saw someone's butt today." (I knew exactly where this was going as soon as she said that because what other butt would be worthy of dinner conversation? All of the other "butts" are totally old news in a family with four females). Brielle said, "You did???"
I asked a barrage of, "How? Why? Was it a boy?"
Camryn excitedly replied "Yes and it had a horn sticking out!" She had such a satisfaction about sharing news that seemed to be "hot off the press." Grinning and nodding.
As Brielle processed this new information, she asked, "What kind of a horn?"
I decided to intervene and try my best as my first awkward and uncomfortable conversation with my children. I explained that boys have different body parts than girls and that boys even pee a different way than girls because they stand up. Seemed like a good idea at the time, okay? I was totally improvising.
More confused looks coming from Brielle followed by, "Did the horn have a hole in it?"
Camryn was already checked out and now focused on what I said about boys standing up to pee. I actually forget how I addressed the "hole" follow-up question.
I probably need to start putting more thought into how I answer questions and also stop panicking when they ask questions. Are there classes for this type of thing? If so, I need to pre-register because I suck at it. At any rate, for the rest of the summer, every time they thought of a boy, saw a boy, etc, Camryn would say, "Mom, does Uncle Glenn stand up to pee?" "Um...yeah, I guess?" "Does Tom stand up to pee?"
Lesson of the day: girls have two butts and boys have horns.
Having three daughters has not left much room for curiosity in terms of body parts. Considering some of the inquiries that come from my girls' mouths, I am dumbfounded that they never asked 1. How babies are made (thank Gaaaawwwd) and 2. What is the difference between boys and girls. Actually, they probably assume the answer to both questions is obvious: Answer 1: God (which is their answer to any unanswerable question and Answer 2: Boys have short hair and girls have long hair, right?
Well, we've had two memorable conversations regarding the latter.
The first dates back to when Brielle was two years old and Camryn was just a wee baby. Up to this point, Greg could usually still pee with the door open and get into the shower without any disruptions. One morning, I was making the bed, Brielle was playing in our room and Greg was getting ready to get into the shower. Sorry for the visual, but it gets worse. All I heard was the shower water running, the door open as he went to step in and Brielle screaming, "DADDY, WHAT'S COMING OUT OF YOUR BUTT?"
Horrified, Greg said, "I hope nothing!"
Side note: Our girls call both the front and back a "butt." I know it's wrong, but they just assumed and again, I just let them assume. It came out of Brielle's mouth in one of her early days and we kind of just went along with it. She's the oldest, so naturally everything she says is right, so the others just followed suit.
The best part is that Greg actually feared something was, unbeknownst to him, coming out of his butt as he stepped into the shower.
Brielle has an almost frighteningly precise memory, but she did happen to block that one out. Understandable.
Fast forward to last summer when Brielle had just turned six and Camryn just turned four. Camryn was attending "Water Week" camp at United Sports, where children ages 4-7 enjoyed various water activities, thus requiring bathing suits and the changing of clothes.
One night during dinner, Camryn decides to kick off the family conversation with, "I saw someone's butt today." (I knew exactly where this was going as soon as she said that because what other butt would be worthy of dinner conversation? All of the other "butts" are totally old news in a family with four females). Brielle said, "You did???"
I asked a barrage of, "How? Why? Was it a boy?"
Camryn excitedly replied "Yes and it had a horn sticking out!" She had such a satisfaction about sharing news that seemed to be "hot off the press." Grinning and nodding.
As Brielle processed this new information, she asked, "What kind of a horn?"
I decided to intervene and try my best as my first awkward and uncomfortable conversation with my children. I explained that boys have different body parts than girls and that boys even pee a different way than girls because they stand up. Seemed like a good idea at the time, okay? I was totally improvising.
More confused looks coming from Brielle followed by, "Did the horn have a hole in it?"
Camryn was already checked out and now focused on what I said about boys standing up to pee. I actually forget how I addressed the "hole" follow-up question.
I probably need to start putting more thought into how I answer questions and also stop panicking when they ask questions. Are there classes for this type of thing? If so, I need to pre-register because I suck at it. At any rate, for the rest of the summer, every time they thought of a boy, saw a boy, etc, Camryn would say, "Mom, does Uncle Glenn stand up to pee?" "Um...yeah, I guess?" "Does Tom stand up to pee?"
Lesson of the day: girls have two butts and boys have horns.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Crazy Mom, Super Dad
Just to avoid any major confusion up front, my husband is a superb. He truly does amaze me with his character, humility, intelligence, writing skills (yes, that does go in this list), and unwavering selflessness. His father skills deserve it's own sentence because his ability to make three little girls feel equally important, special and loved is something I wish I could bottle up and keep forever.
End love song.
Enter annoyed wife.
Just a few things here....things that drive me batty. And after living with someone for 12 + years, you truly do learn when to pick your battles. I learned before having kids, then I learned again after having kids because there is a lot less time to fight when you have three dependents. So if there is going to be a battle, it'd better be a really important one because well, people, we are busy. So I've chosen a much more productive outlet...complain about him in writing. Sounds super productive and positive now doesn't it?
I suppose I'll begin with the freshest example. Kitchen conduct. I've always admired the couples who cook together. Our best friends, in fact, are a great team in the kitchen. Both enjoy kitchen activities and they work great together. I'm sure the fact that Greg is not super obsessed with food and the fact that I am super obsessed with food plays a role. But hey, not every relationship is perfect, right? I'm sure he wishes I loved watching football about as much as I wish he'd enjoy cooking with me.
So there is the occasional time he will enter the kitchen with good intentions. He likes to cook breakfast. I happen to love eating breakfast. And if you can guess, at this point in our marriage, I've got my routine down, I know what I like and when I'm very hungry and Greg suddenly gets the "urge" to cook, I become very stressed out. However, since my constant goal and consistent failure is being relaxed and cool, I always just go along with the activity and remind myself it's just one meal. There are two more today, right?
I try to stay away because when he starts trying to toast English muffins while making eggs and cooking sausage, his multi-tasking timing scares me. What if the English muffins are finished toasting long before the eggs are done??? What if he forgets about the English muffins and they burn up? This is very serious. As you can guess, after it's all said it done, I relax. I do much better on a full belly.
The issue that follows is the mess. When the commander of the kitchen cooks, the commander knows how to clean prep dishes while cooking so that the end task is not as overwhelming. When he finishes the cooking, the mess is a much different scene. It seems like every bowl, dish and utensil has been used and is sitting on the counter with a million crumbs surrounding. So even though his food tastes perfectly good, I usually do feel the anxiety and fear of the clean-up that is about to follow. Because if he did the cooking, it's assumed I get to do the clean up. Yay!
Some days, I'll get the pancake mix going, set everything up for a perfect execution of a family pancake breakfast and he will literally enter right when I'm about to pour the first pancake onto the skillet. He pretends he is doing me a "favor" by taking over, but to me, it's stealing my joy. I just spent all that time setting everything up and waiting patiently for the right temperature and then he pours and flips. Pouring and flipping is the fun part!
Most days, I do the cooking and cleanup, but on the days he insists on cleaning up...(yes, you guessed....another problem). What is it about not finishing the job? He'll get all the dishes into the dishwasher, everything off the table, but leave the pots and pans. He says he likes to "soak" them. They don't need soaking. Just wash them! And just clean the crumbs off the counter! I just need to know...does he not see them? How do you not see all those crumbs? If I did choose to inquire about the crumbs, or the pots and pans, it's really not a good scene. I've learned from experience. Hence, why you're hearing about this right now. I just need to get it off my chest, but it's just not battle-worthy. I mean, I get it, he was trying to do something nice, then I criticize and that's just not nice. But really, is it nice to "clean up" and leave the pots and pans and crumbs for me to finish up later? (His come back to this is that he does plan on finishing, but just not right that second and how come everything has to be done right away?) I have just really never been comfortable with procrastination, okay?
Another fun part of our shared household activities is laundry. He folds a lot (any job that can be done in front of Sports Center or any sports television is the job for him). Occasionally he'll even put things in the washer and start it. Do you want to know what the worst part of about doing laundry in a house with five people is though? It's putting it all away. It is definitely about time I teach Brielle and Camryn how put away their own laundry, but for now, it's a task that easily takes me a half-hour. We have three girls who all love to wear dresses, tights and often times multiple outfits per day. He was just off for two days while I was out working both days, all day. I finished washing and folding three loads of laundry on Sunday, but didn't have a chance to get it put away. I was just really hoping I'd come home to an emptied out laundry basket since he just had two days off at home with the kids. It's as if it was invisible though! Not touched, not mentioned. How is this?
Enter Super Dad.
He painted the girls' nails today. I know...how many Dad's paint their little girls' nails, know how to do pigtails and ponytails and correctly put on tights? Probably not all that many. He also does a lot of bath times. And....he gets up at night when someone wakes up.
I know the world is not going to stop turning if I don't get the laundry put away or finish the pots and pans. And, I can even admit that allowing him a little fun in the kitchen even when it means a big mess and imperfectly toasted English muffins is also a very, very small problem. In the grand scheme of things, it's a non-problem.
I think I just wish I got to be Super Dad some days. On a daily basis, I'm the crazy one trying to get people to piano lessons on time, people to gymnastics on time, homework completed before melt-down hour (when six year old is too tired to write a plot analysis), mouths fed, dishes cleaned, clothes washed, lessons planned, papers graded, permission slips signed...............
End love song.
Enter annoyed wife.
Just a few things here....things that drive me batty. And after living with someone for 12 + years, you truly do learn when to pick your battles. I learned before having kids, then I learned again after having kids because there is a lot less time to fight when you have three dependents. So if there is going to be a battle, it'd better be a really important one because well, people, we are busy. So I've chosen a much more productive outlet...complain about him in writing. Sounds super productive and positive now doesn't it?
I suppose I'll begin with the freshest example. Kitchen conduct. I've always admired the couples who cook together. Our best friends, in fact, are a great team in the kitchen. Both enjoy kitchen activities and they work great together. I'm sure the fact that Greg is not super obsessed with food and the fact that I am super obsessed with food plays a role. But hey, not every relationship is perfect, right? I'm sure he wishes I loved watching football about as much as I wish he'd enjoy cooking with me.
So there is the occasional time he will enter the kitchen with good intentions. He likes to cook breakfast. I happen to love eating breakfast. And if you can guess, at this point in our marriage, I've got my routine down, I know what I like and when I'm very hungry and Greg suddenly gets the "urge" to cook, I become very stressed out. However, since my constant goal and consistent failure is being relaxed and cool, I always just go along with the activity and remind myself it's just one meal. There are two more today, right?
I try to stay away because when he starts trying to toast English muffins while making eggs and cooking sausage, his multi-tasking timing scares me. What if the English muffins are finished toasting long before the eggs are done??? What if he forgets about the English muffins and they burn up? This is very serious. As you can guess, after it's all said it done, I relax. I do much better on a full belly.
The issue that follows is the mess. When the commander of the kitchen cooks, the commander knows how to clean prep dishes while cooking so that the end task is not as overwhelming. When he finishes the cooking, the mess is a much different scene. It seems like every bowl, dish and utensil has been used and is sitting on the counter with a million crumbs surrounding. So even though his food tastes perfectly good, I usually do feel the anxiety and fear of the clean-up that is about to follow. Because if he did the cooking, it's assumed I get to do the clean up. Yay!
Some days, I'll get the pancake mix going, set everything up for a perfect execution of a family pancake breakfast and he will literally enter right when I'm about to pour the first pancake onto the skillet. He pretends he is doing me a "favor" by taking over, but to me, it's stealing my joy. I just spent all that time setting everything up and waiting patiently for the right temperature and then he pours and flips. Pouring and flipping is the fun part!
Most days, I do the cooking and cleanup, but on the days he insists on cleaning up...(yes, you guessed....another problem). What is it about not finishing the job? He'll get all the dishes into the dishwasher, everything off the table, but leave the pots and pans. He says he likes to "soak" them. They don't need soaking. Just wash them! And just clean the crumbs off the counter! I just need to know...does he not see them? How do you not see all those crumbs? If I did choose to inquire about the crumbs, or the pots and pans, it's really not a good scene. I've learned from experience. Hence, why you're hearing about this right now. I just need to get it off my chest, but it's just not battle-worthy. I mean, I get it, he was trying to do something nice, then I criticize and that's just not nice. But really, is it nice to "clean up" and leave the pots and pans and crumbs for me to finish up later? (His come back to this is that he does plan on finishing, but just not right that second and how come everything has to be done right away?) I have just really never been comfortable with procrastination, okay?
Another fun part of our shared household activities is laundry. He folds a lot (any job that can be done in front of Sports Center or any sports television is the job for him). Occasionally he'll even put things in the washer and start it. Do you want to know what the worst part of about doing laundry in a house with five people is though? It's putting it all away. It is definitely about time I teach Brielle and Camryn how put away their own laundry, but for now, it's a task that easily takes me a half-hour. We have three girls who all love to wear dresses, tights and often times multiple outfits per day. He was just off for two days while I was out working both days, all day. I finished washing and folding three loads of laundry on Sunday, but didn't have a chance to get it put away. I was just really hoping I'd come home to an emptied out laundry basket since he just had two days off at home with the kids. It's as if it was invisible though! Not touched, not mentioned. How is this?
Enter Super Dad.
He painted the girls' nails today. I know...how many Dad's paint their little girls' nails, know how to do pigtails and ponytails and correctly put on tights? Probably not all that many. He also does a lot of bath times. And....he gets up at night when someone wakes up.
I know the world is not going to stop turning if I don't get the laundry put away or finish the pots and pans. And, I can even admit that allowing him a little fun in the kitchen even when it means a big mess and imperfectly toasted English muffins is also a very, very small problem. In the grand scheme of things, it's a non-problem.
I think I just wish I got to be Super Dad some days. On a daily basis, I'm the crazy one trying to get people to piano lessons on time, people to gymnastics on time, homework completed before melt-down hour (when six year old is too tired to write a plot analysis), mouths fed, dishes cleaned, clothes washed, lessons planned, papers graded, permission slips signed...............
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Sisters and Dreams
Life with three kids and kids of "activity and homework age" has definitely caused us to have almost no free time. Add new house to that equation and there goes any spare minutes of life. Luckily, almost every busy minute we have is one of joy and blessings. This really is the dream to me. I am constantly reflecting on how my life was as a child and it was also extremely blessed and happy. I learned how to be a loving parent, how to be responsible and how work hard for what I want.
There are a couple things I did not have when I was younger though. Don't worry, this is not turning into an analysis of problems-due-to-my-troubled-past blog. It's light-hearted, but truly meaningful to me and something I constantly think about it.
I have two brothers who are five and seven years older than me. Sure they are fine brothers. Michael taught me how to ride a bike and shoot a basketball and Steven....um....Steven taught me how to have a tough skin (you can read into that one if you want). However, imagine my life as a young teen or high schooler.....no siblings were around. This was a bonus for me in some ways of course, but in other ways, it was kind of lonely. My Mom says I always had a friend over and they even furnished my beach house bedroom with two twin beds for whatever friend I brought down on weekends and summers. Still, good friends aren't sisters. Or close brothers. I wanted a sister soooooo bad. I used to beg for one. I used to pray for one. I even used to fantasize about being an orphan so I could live in an orphanage like Annie and sing with all my fellow orphans.
Fast-forward to life now---a mother of three daughters who are close in age. My daughters do not have just one, but two sisters! What else? (So far) They get along SO well. They are all so different, but they already respect each other's different interests. Brielle has never asked to take gymnastics, but always wants to watch her sister. Camryn has never asked to take ballet, piano, or singing, but she is her sister's biggest fan. As Kendall still develops her personality, I can at least note her uncharacteristically blonde hair and blue eyes for now. (Huh?) But what I have here are three daughters who love each other so much. Three sisters that love each other so much. They play for hours and hours. They share clothes and toys. They support each other. They sing and dance around the house together DAILY. They brush their teeth together and hug and kiss each other every night. What else can I say other than this is a dream come true? I am pretty sure being a mother to three daughters like mine is even better than getting my sister way back when. My cup runs over, continuously. (Stay tuned for the teenage years blog, I know, I might be doomed ;).
One other small victory is Brielle's singing/performing ability....or should I just say confidence? I was brought up in a musical family. I have always love singing and dancing more than just about anything. It was never my forte though. I can play an instrument on stage, but would not dare sing solo or even try. I could not even get up enough courage to try out for any of the plays in high school. I wanted to though. So, so, so badly. I dreamed of myself on a stage performing and just spent my time obsessing over various singers/actors growing up. Much like most young girls, I suppose. I do recall a time when I prayed a very specific prayer asking for a miraculous gift of talent and courage. I might have been 15 or 16 at the time. I was serious. Well, here, I have a daughter who has already sung a solo on a stage in front of her whole school! When she said she wanted to do it, I almost didn't even believe her because the thought of doing such a thing to me is just not a possibility. My nerves would not be able to handle it. Not when I was six and certainly not now. (It's different when I sing parody songs to my students.....when my goal is to make them laugh, I don't have to worry about humiliation).
Another dream come true.....to watch my own daughter is more exciting, satisfying and fulfilling than any dream I ever had of myself becoming a performer. I am not saying we have a young superstar on our hands, but she has already tackled dreams I had growing up and she is only six. To say that I am proud is an understatement.
As I continue to work through the fact that there is only a 1% chance of me ever experiencing the birth of another baby (blame: Greg), I can say that even my "older" children are bringing me much jubilation.
It really is funny how life works. Or how God works....I am truly blessed beyond comprehension.
There are a couple things I did not have when I was younger though. Don't worry, this is not turning into an analysis of problems-due-to-my-troubled-past blog. It's light-hearted, but truly meaningful to me and something I constantly think about it.
I have two brothers who are five and seven years older than me. Sure they are fine brothers. Michael taught me how to ride a bike and shoot a basketball and Steven....um....Steven taught me how to have a tough skin (you can read into that one if you want). However, imagine my life as a young teen or high schooler.....no siblings were around. This was a bonus for me in some ways of course, but in other ways, it was kind of lonely. My Mom says I always had a friend over and they even furnished my beach house bedroom with two twin beds for whatever friend I brought down on weekends and summers. Still, good friends aren't sisters. Or close brothers. I wanted a sister soooooo bad. I used to beg for one. I used to pray for one. I even used to fantasize about being an orphan so I could live in an orphanage like Annie and sing with all my fellow orphans.
Fast-forward to life now---a mother of three daughters who are close in age. My daughters do not have just one, but two sisters! What else? (So far) They get along SO well. They are all so different, but they already respect each other's different interests. Brielle has never asked to take gymnastics, but always wants to watch her sister. Camryn has never asked to take ballet, piano, or singing, but she is her sister's biggest fan. As Kendall still develops her personality, I can at least note her uncharacteristically blonde hair and blue eyes for now. (Huh?) But what I have here are three daughters who love each other so much. Three sisters that love each other so much. They play for hours and hours. They share clothes and toys. They support each other. They sing and dance around the house together DAILY. They brush their teeth together and hug and kiss each other every night. What else can I say other than this is a dream come true? I am pretty sure being a mother to three daughters like mine is even better than getting my sister way back when. My cup runs over, continuously. (Stay tuned for the teenage years blog, I know, I might be doomed ;).
One other small victory is Brielle's singing/performing ability....or should I just say confidence? I was brought up in a musical family. I have always love singing and dancing more than just about anything. It was never my forte though. I can play an instrument on stage, but would not dare sing solo or even try. I could not even get up enough courage to try out for any of the plays in high school. I wanted to though. So, so, so badly. I dreamed of myself on a stage performing and just spent my time obsessing over various singers/actors growing up. Much like most young girls, I suppose. I do recall a time when I prayed a very specific prayer asking for a miraculous gift of talent and courage. I might have been 15 or 16 at the time. I was serious. Well, here, I have a daughter who has already sung a solo on a stage in front of her whole school! When she said she wanted to do it, I almost didn't even believe her because the thought of doing such a thing to me is just not a possibility. My nerves would not be able to handle it. Not when I was six and certainly not now. (It's different when I sing parody songs to my students.....when my goal is to make them laugh, I don't have to worry about humiliation).
Another dream come true.....to watch my own daughter is more exciting, satisfying and fulfilling than any dream I ever had of myself becoming a performer. I am not saying we have a young superstar on our hands, but she has already tackled dreams I had growing up and she is only six. To say that I am proud is an understatement.
As I continue to work through the fact that there is only a 1% chance of me ever experiencing the birth of another baby (blame: Greg), I can say that even my "older" children are bringing me much jubilation.
It really is funny how life works. Or how God works....I am truly blessed beyond comprehension.
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