Little Girl, Young Lady

We've been preparing for this for over a year now, since the first subtle physical changes. I've been dreading it's arrival. She has been anxious wondering what the fuss is all about. We played out all of the possible scenarios to reassure her that no matter how, when, or where...she would be just fine. We attendend a workshop at the hospital and recently, the entire 5th grade classroom watched gender-specific videos. And after a year of anticipation, it happened in the comfort of our home while I was starting dinner in the next room. Neither of us panicked. Everything was at hand. And within a few minutes, our worlds went back to normal...somewhat. For the next few hours, I stared at her just a little bit longer. I fingered a loop of her hair. And I allowed my heart to walk down memory lane. My little girl was now a young lady. (sniff)

Then and Now

When I was a little girl, I always thought that if I had enough money, I could change the world...or at least my world. Over the years, I have finally come to the realization that I will never have "enough" money to change my world. All of those material things that I thought I would need when I grew up, no longer have the same meaning. I wanted a sports car, a beaming red Mazda Miata. I drive a dust-covered mini-van, no CD player, broken heater motor/air conditioner. But the sports car that I dreamed of so long ago, could never do for me what this beat-up ol' grocery-getter does on a daily basis. It's the vehicle that I love to hate and hate to love. But it's paid in full, allows each of the girls their own personal space without the "she's touching me", and can load an entire team--ball bags and all. I wanted a huge house with at least 5 bedrooms, 3 baths, swimming pool, and acreage. I can barely keep our 3 bedroom/2 bath clean and can't even imagine how much time it would take to clean a larger home without hired help. What we have now is not immaculate or spotless. It is lived in, worn in some places, but cozy and comfortable and quite well kept in comparison to some. We even hosted a 25-person Christmas gathering this year without any complaints and plenty of room for food, socializing, and gift-opening games. I wanted Prince Charming, 5 beautiful well-behaved boys, and a small dog. I've since decided that a dog is the last thing I desire (pet hair, expenses, smell, and having to worry about another "kid"). God granted me 3 beautiful, amazing, and talented daughters that give me reasons to be proud and grateful daily. And because of those lovely girls, we will surely have plenty of boys around the house in the years to come. As for Prince Charming...well, I did manage to nail that one.

Waterlogged at the Waterpark

This year was the perfect mid-winter break vacation for our family. We stayed at the amazing Wilderness Hotel and Resort via Glacier Canyon Lodge (which we whole-heartedly recommend to anyone with school-age children or teenagers who don't mind the short enclosed walkways to each indoor park) and spent three days at each of the waterparks. Our small fry, M, managed to squeak past the How Tall are You posters by puffing out her chest and standing extra "tall", raising her chin just a tad...and she made full use of each and every ride! We each took turns on the body slides, tube slides, and family raft rides. The favorite pool was the huge Wave Pool at the Waterdome. The girls also loved The Hurricane waterslide at the Klondike and had ridden it a few times with their dad before finally convincing me that it was my turn. As I climbed the massive stair case to the ceiling, the girls elbowed each other secretly and covered their mouths to stifle their giggles. We pulled over to the side of the staircase a few times to allow my jello legs a quick rest. I knew that I was in for it, but little did I know what was truly about to happen to my poor unsuspecting body. When we finally reached the top, we were directed to a large scale. As if getting into a bathing suit mid-winter isn't bad enough...they now expected me to get weighed? The four of us took our place on the scale and the lifeguard read the results. I held my breath for a brief moment before she gave us the anxiously anticipated thumbs-up. I looked at the four large men behind me and wondered how they would fare... Before I could turn to see them load the scale, the lifeguard was directing me into the tube. The girls were now laughing as she pointed at the back of the raft, indicating that I would be riding backwards. My heart stopped, my knees shook, and the only thought I recall is that of my loving husband who had seemingly turned his back to me to arrange the towels over the chairs while the girls begged me to go on this God-forsaken ride. I entered the raft and took my place. The lifeguard asked if we were ready. The girls answered immediately, but before I could eek out my reply we were on our way into the dark tunnel. The girls screamed with laughter when we suddenly plunged straight down! This was clearly the path to Hell. The water propelled us forward into a large tube which we skidded up one side and down the next several times, each pass feeling as though we would surely capsize. A stream of water in the center of the tube slowed our movement and continued to move us forward until we were pulled into a smaller tube and doused with a heavy waterfall. I'm not sure how the girls could sputter water while still laughing! I was still trying to catch my breath when a lifeguard grabbed our raft and shoved us toward dry land. The girls hopped out and headed toward the bottom of the staircase again, not bothering to check to see if I was still alive. I rolled out of the raft like a stunned sea lion and plopped not-so-gracefully into the pool, trying desperately to gain my footing. As I crawled up the pool steps, I caught my sweet husband's laughing eyes. Yes, revenge, will be sweet indeed.

The Bucket

I was an adventurous young mother. I had always loved family camping as a kid and decided to join my two aunts and cousin on an all girls camping weekend with the company of my three angels. Although the campground was less than two hours away, summer road construction sent me on an hour long detour, putting our in-car travel time at 3.25 hours. The girls were hungry and tired, and I was quickly losing patience with the Disney sing-a-long CD they'd chosen to listen to over an hour ago. By the time we snaked our way to the BFE of the campground, I realized we were no where near a bathroom and little B was doing the dance of a lifetime. My quick-thinking aunt handed me an ice cream pail that they'd been given by the office (just in case nature called in the middle of the night). I grabbed the bucket and a tissue and handed it to O asking her to please take her sister behind the shrubs to tinkle while I unloaded the camping gear. She grudgingly obliged. A short while later, she returned with the bucket in tow asking me, "What now?" With my hands full and desperate to get the massive tent up before dark, I gritted my teeth and growled, "Just dump it out, please." She did. She returned again to explain that she couldn't "get it all out". The hair on the back of my neck stood tall. "Get WHAT out?" I asked. "The poop," she stated matter-of-factly. "WHAT?!!" I shouted. "Where did you dump it?" She pointed to the in-ground fire pit, of course. I was boiling over...and my lovely aunts, who seemed to find this ever so amusing, howled with laughter...until they realized that this was the same fire pit we would soon be cooking dinner over. I ran over to the fire pit to assess the damage. Yes, indeed, there were "logs on the fire". Using a small, and I mean VERY small, forked stick, I managed to roll the poo up the side of the pit and back into the bucket. Then I built a fire in the pit to sterilize and burn off any excess. With my aunts still in tears with laughter, I proceeded to walk away from the camp deep into the woods to bury the contents of the bucket. Still grumbling when I returned to camp, I looked directly into the wide eyes of my little gremlin who simply said, "Mom, M said she has to go potty."

Pep Talks

Last night, I received a phone call from the mother of O's best friend. I knew that our daughters had been experiencing spats over the past month and had actually considered calling her last week. But I wasn't sure how to approach the situation, so I let O simply handle things in her own way. I was happy to hear from (parent) and listened intently as she described the recent conversations (parent) had had with her daughter regarding O and their on again/off again friendship. It seemed that they had taken up other friendships which did not include one another and each was struggling with jealousy and hurt feelings. O had been encouraged to explore these other friendships after having her heart stomped on by whom I refer to as "the Mean Girls". If you've had the chance to see the Lindsey Lohan movie, you'll know exactly what type of girls I'm referring to. The ones who manipulate the social circles to meet their needs, who smile sweetly at you while whispering behind your back, the ones who string you along until they tire of you. I knew girls like that, and I, too, thought that I had to please them in order to be liked by them and be like them. It wasn't until I was heading off to high school that I finally realized that they meant little to me, and that I didn't need to meet their approval. They certainly hadn't met mine. O and I had talked through her relationship with "the Mean Girls", and she agreed that she felt better about herself when she chose to hang around other friends. Therefore, she made a decision to ignore their hurtful behavior, smile, and be the best friend that she could be to those who treated her with respect and kindness. Unfortunately for O, her best friend chose the Mean Girls. O has since struggled with trying to ignore the MGs without ignoring her best friend, but her emotions tend to get the best of her. After I hung up the phone, I knew that approaching O with the information I'd learned wouldn't help the situation, so I called in reinforcements. This morning, O happily informed me that she'd had an enlightening conversation with her Daddy at bedtime and that he helped her to remember to not be pulled in by wanting so badly to be liked by someone (like the MGs) that you say or do hurtful things to others. He reminded her that she is a beautiful and talented young lady who is blessed with many friends, including a very special best friend. O decided that she'd go to school this morning and try to keep an open mind about her friend's choice to hang out with the MGs and not let it get the best of her. Sheesh. And we have Middle School yet to look forward to!

Just Eat It

Early on, my husband and I made an important parenting decision that continues to pay us back tenfold. We did our best to offer our children a wide variety of food experiences. In doing so, they have each developed a broad spectrum of likes with few dislikes. At the age of 7, O discovered she no longer liked cottage cheese. Later, at age 9, she discovered that green beans leave her with an unpleasant feeling in her stomach. Her favorite foods include steak and mushrooms. She won't be one of those salad and water prom dates, so save up, boys. M has always had a love affair with popcorn. However, the relationship came to a sudden halt in the summer of 2009 when we finally attributed a rather horrendous odor continually emitted from our lovely 8 year old to the tasty treat. The combination of popcorn and milk has become lethal. She has learned to limit both and never co-mingle. She prefers vanilla to chocolate and would rather skip the pat of butter on her bread. B has a disturbing love of chocolate that began in infancy when her child care teacher shared a small bowl of M&Ms with her. She soon learned which cupboard held the special candy and would tap on it until one of the two teachers gave her a small bowl. This continued with her daily visits to her favorite teachers until she moved on to kindergarten. The kid can now sniff out a morsel of chocolate in 2.5 seconds. Do keep your fingers out of harms way. B is also a corndog, hotdog, grilled cheese, and hippopotamus loving fiend. (Hippopotamus is actually chicken cordon bleu...that's another story for another time!) Thankfully, the girls learned early on to try a little bit of everything. We've also stressed with them to try things a second time, because our pallets are ever-changing and because not all recipes are equal. At the end of a meal, if their plate hasn't been cleared, we simply ask they eat four more bites of something. This can lead to grumbles, but more often than not, they simply do as they're told. As guinea pigs, my family must endure new recipes often. Some are met with great enthusiasm, while others are picked apart relentlessly. Nevertheless, many of our meals are trial and error. Tonight's dinner was a chicken and penne dish with an easy four cheese sauce, mixed veggies, and sour dough bread. Simple and quick. I was disappointed in the pasta, but everyone ate heartily...well, almost every one. As I watched B pick another piece of chicken out of her pasta, I reminded her to at least try the pasta. She pointed her fork at me and said, "Mom, are you up to something?" Confused, I said, "No, sweetheart, I don't think I'm up to something." She pushed another piece of her penne aside and said, "Well, I think you're up to something." She reached for the bowl of mixed vegetables and heaped another spoonful on her plate. She looked at me thoughtfully and said, "I think you made that stuff (pointing to the pasta) so that I would eat more vegetables." It was all I could do to keep from showering the table with a mouthful of my dinner. I swallowed hard and asked, "Did it work?" She said, "Yup." I didn't even bother with making her eat the usual "four bites" before being excused from the table.

Tell Me More, Mama

"Tell me about when I was a baby, Mama" M lay her head gently on my shoulder and wrapped her little arm around my own. B overheard her older sister's request, and lay her head on my other shoulder, taking my arm, and batting her long, lovely eyelashes at me. Such cheeky girls! How could I resist? I told M the story of how pink she was when she was born, like a sweet little piglet. And how tiny she was. I told her how she ate for three days straight, even making snorting and grunting sounds like the hungry piglet. And that she became a plump, round little thing that I loved to call, "My little sausage" because her chubby little legs looked like sausage links stuffed into knit leggings. I told B how her older sisters stuffed her into a cardboard box and put the over flaps over her. I'm sure they were trying to send her back from wherever she came from. I told M and O the story of the bathtub. I was fat and round with baby M tucked safely in my belly. O and I were taking a mom'n daughter bath, making bubble beards and laughing. She kept saying, "Helloooo, baby" and would get on all fours and put her little eyeball right against my belly button. But she couldn't see her baby...so she'd call out again, "Hellllloooo, baby!" We talked about their first words, foods they loved to eat, and silly things they said and did not so many years ago. They laughed and asked for more...I said, "We'll always have more, won't we?" And as I fell asleep with those thoughts, I thanked God for giving me "more" each day and said, "If it's not too selfish...I'd like more, too."