Hamburger Helper, Rain, and Perspective

It's almost the end of summer and although I see school coming and know that time is slipping, slipping away, I can't seem to step out of the fast lane.  Since next week is the last week of summer and I have no childcare during work hours this week or next, I am getting up earlier and earlier to get a jump on my tasks.
I am rolling out of bed sometime between 5 and 5:30 a.m. and immediately turning on the laptop to start working.  It's much easier for me to get work done when there is not a child literally sitting on my shoulders, and I have been productive, but I am constantly trying to remind myself that I do have limits and am not superhuman and that it's a good thing.
Yesterday I was productive, but by 10 a.m. I realized I wasn't going to finish what needed to be done and the kids needed to be doing something besides watching the Muppet movie.  I used to be vehemently opposed to television for children, but this summer have let up a little and I let my kids watch about an hour or so a day while I try to breathe or get something done.
We needed to do something fun and silly and fast, or there was a danger I would start taking myself too seriously.
Here's what we did:

We took our Hamburger Helper foam hand puppet to the zoo. We all brainstormed and struggled to find anything that was not awesome about taking Hamburger Helper to the zoo and we couldn't find anything.  "The thing about Hamburger Helper," Claire said thoughtfully.  "Is that he rocks."  Paul said, "Yeah, Hamburger Helper is totally awesome."  These are definitely my children.

Hamburger helper loves giraffes!

This was so cute we left Hamburger Helper out of it.  It's the new baby elephant, Belle.

Claire suggested we put Hamburger Helper on the elephant's trunk.

Hamburger Helper visiting ducks.

Hamburger Helper wearing a Burger King crown while waiting for the zoo train.

Awww!  Look!  No arms!  Hamburger Helper rode the zoo train.

Every time I start feeling sad and guilty that my human powers aren't super; that they are just normal, then I get some perspective.  I was feeling guilty about letting the kids watch a movie in the morning instead of forcing them to play.  Oh the humanity!  Television in the morning!  Obviously the kids would be scarred for life from that.  But then I saw a family at the zoo who put their child on a leash.  Not a cutesy kid leash like I had to use for Claire when Paul was an infant and she was a fast two year old at the zoo.  No, they used a retractable dog leash attached to the poor kid's pants.  The father sported a tattoo on his arm that said "100% rebel." He was trying, he really was, but I wanted to pull him over and give him some mercy.  I wanted to suggest that maybe he remove the leash while the kid was climbing in the rope playground but I couldn't.  I was intimidated and all I could do was pray for him to be able to calm down and let go just a little.  So I sat on my bench and said a prayer for him and within 30 seconds saw him relax.  He stopped yelling and did let go a bit.  He didn't take the leash off the kid (I'm afraid it was reinforced with duct tape.) but he stopped his angry rant.  I was so glad because I didn't think I could sit there another minute without crying for his child.

Then while Claire climbed across the rope tunnel close to the ceiling she shouted down to me, "You are the best Mommy ever! And I know other moms can hear this and are disappointed!"  That made my day.  She wasn't on a leash and apparently watching the Muppet Movie didn't scar her or make her a terrible person.  It was going to be okay.

We followed our trip to the zoo with a trip to Central Library downtown.  We went last week and all the librarians remembered us and not because we were disruptive.  They remembered us because we are sometimes awesome.

The library has a program where you can check out a stuffed animal cow called Maggie. You are supposed to take pictures of Maggie all over Fort Worth and put them on Social Media.  

Paul built Maggie a tower.

Maggie in Sundance Square.

Maggie at the Water Gardens.

Kids splashing and running in the Water Gardens.

We played at the Water Gardens until a torrential downpour arrived.  We were soaked and Claire was very upset that Maggie was wet, too.  We had to run back to the car in the rain that was coming down so hard that I had to take off my glasses to see.  We also passed a beautiful lady standing on the curb trying to stay dry.  A man approached her from the hotel across the street and then it hit me that she was a prostitute. What can I do but offer her a prayer at that point?  

So by the time we got home, I had about three inches of my body that were dry, and that was where my purse had hung.  I was cold, wet, and humbled.  How heart breaking to see a poor family using a dog leash on a kid and a beautiful lady selling her body in the same day.  As the rain covered my entire body, all my stress was washed away and I was filled with compassion and perspective instead.

The Magic of Museums

On Monday I took the kids on an adventure.  We drove to Dallas and went to the Perot Museum.  I absolutely love taking my children to museums and this day was no different.  We all are on equal footing at a museum; all learning something new.  We carry a sense of wonder with us all day long on days like that.
My biggest takeaway from that museum was learning the difference between bison and buffalo.  I went to Haltom High School and proudly wore T-shirts emblazoned with buffaloes.  I stood on the sidelines during football games next to the buffalo mascot shouting "B-U-F-F-A-L-O!"  I know what a buffalo looks like; or so I thought.  I directed the kids to the buffalo at the museum and was just about to bust out a speech about buffaloes when I realized that the sign said bison.  I had to ask an employee.
"Excuse me, why does this say bison?  It's a buffalo."
Here's what I learned.
Bison live in North America.  Buffaloes live in Africa.


Notice the horns are different as well.  So when I was in high school, apparently I should have been leading the crowd in cheering "B-I-S-O-N!"  Kind of embarrassing.

Besides exploring and learning together, I also love that museums have no laundry to fold or dishes to wash.  My job is to be present as a tour guide.  There are few distractions and I can observe the kids interacting with others and learning.  I love that we weren't pressed for time like most people there.  Every parent/daycare escort seemed to be tugging on the children's hands:  "We've got to go see other stuff.  We want you to see everything and we've only got a little time left!"  Not my kids.  If they were interested in something, we stayed there until they became disinterested.

I especially enjoyed watching the kids play on the kid construction area; a replica of the Dallas skyline.  Paul chose to build towers by himself and stayed focused for 20 minutes doing that.  Claire decided to create a community.  She went to each child at the area and asked if they wanted to be on her "team."  She had them organized and gave them different roles of sorting and carrying blocks.  She was directing without being rudely bossy and she was super-excited about her team.  When we needed to move to a different exhibit she ran to inform each child of where we were going so they could follow us.  She was a motivational leader and great organizer and delegator.  Paul was focused on the task at hand and stuck with it until he was done.  I cannot wait to watch them grow up and develop their skills.

At lunchtime we ate outside in the shade.  We started feeding the pigeons our bread crusts and Paul was delighted that a little chickadee was able to nab a piece that he had thrown.  All throughout our lunch other children approached the birds stomping or waving their arms wildly.  My kids kept saying, "Why are they doing that?  They're being mean to the birds!"  I loved to see the compassion they had for animals that are often ignored or even disdained.

Museums are the places where I feel like the best mom I can be and where I am immeasurably proud of my children.  We should go more often.

Here's some photos of our adventure that day:

 The kids raced to see who could complete a dinosaur puzzle first.

Flying like a 3D bird.

 Paul's impression of an eagle.

Digging for fossils.

Craft time!

Racing a T-Rex

A Day in the Life

Yesterday was a normal day in the Boyette household, but I was trying to explain the craziness to friends and realized that our normal isn't anyone else's.  So here are the laughs and crazy events from yesterday.

Our first adventure yesterday was a trip to Dollar Tree.  I had to buy stickers for our garage sale and the kids were allowed to select one toy each.  Paul, predictably, got a squishy ball.  Claire selected some magnets called "Snake Eggs" which make a noise when you clack them together.  She immediately renamed them dinosaur eggs and was delighted to explain their magic to us.  Then she dropped them in the car.

Wailing loudly, she searched through the toys and other debris in our backseat to find them but her seatbelt impeded progress.  I let her unbuckle at a long red light.  She still couldn't find them and kept wailing that they were gone forever.

I had to pick up an item at church so I rolled all the windows down, opened doors, and left the kids outside digging through the backseat to look for the dinosaur eggs.  Claire was crying uncontrollably and throwing toys at Paul.  Paul kept reassuring her that her eggs were not lost and even offered one of his toys to comfort her.  All the way home they made each other happy again by singing "BettieCarol, BettieCarol, BettieCarol Sherry!!"  (Just go with it if you don't know about this one.  Kind of a long story.)  They decided to make BettieCarol some cards and Claire said, "But it's going to be hard to make her a card because I'll have to say her name wrong to spell it.  I'll have to say it real slow."

Once home, the dinosaur eggs were forgotten and I had 15 minutes to make lunch before Adam arrived to eat with us.  Luckily I had already planned it so I whipped it together and voila, we had lunch.  We all watched Wheel of Fortune while eating and the kids enjoyed guessing the puzzles.  Often, Claire can beat Adam and me to solving one.

Paul sat and actually read a book to me. (He's started reading this summer!)  Then the babysitter arrived so I could go to the doctor for a checkup.

An hour and a half later, I walked back in the house and Paul, in full Spider-Man costume, looked at me and moaned, "Ahhhhh."  He said he didn't have enough time to play.  I said I would pretend to not be there yet.  I went to Claire's room and saw she and the sitter had draped a sheet over her door frame.  It was now a castle door and the babysitter was renamed "Belle."  She told me that she had been fighting with Spiderman, the castle guard, but was then informed that princesses don't fight so was now confined to the castle.

"Belle's" brother arrived to pick her up and we all sat and talked for a while.  Paul was doing cannonballs on the couch and shouting "Feces!"  Claire was saying something about fecal matter.  I was mortified.  Their father has taught them all the scientific words for poop and they take joy in sharing their knowledge with others.

I attempted to have an intelligent conversation with adults while the children interrupted with more fecal vocabulary words.  I had to send them to their room several times, but it's hard to shut down the poop talk when the guests are laughing.  I assured them that this was not a performance just for them but that the kids unfortunately are normally comfortable with talking about such topics.  The same girl who drew a giant heart on the driveway that says "Jesus loves us" was explaining that she likes to refer to the bathroom as the "defecation station."

I continued to be mortified, but when you are sitting at a kitchen table talking with friends who can clearly see the five loads of laundry waiting to be hung as well as the He-Mans and Ninja Turtles commingled on the floor, not to mention the kids who are dancing and talking about the bathroom, it's hard to pretend that this isn't your life.

After they left, I had fifteen minutes to get the kids a snack and get them ready for our next adventure.  Adam was using his truck to help move a swing set from one friend's house to another, so we made it a family affair.  Paul and Claire ran around our friend's backyard until Adam was ready to go.  We all chatted for a bit and then went on to the next house.

While the men reconstructed the swing, the mom and I chatted.  She didn't know we were coming, so she hadn't had time to prepare the house for company.  It's always comforting to see other houses in their natural state.  It reminds me that other people have dirty dishes and toys on the floor. 

For some reason, particularly in the summer, I believe that it's possible to have a spotless house, well-behaved children, and engaged intellects.  That is the standard that I strive for daily and fall-short of daily.  

In reality, I have a messy house and two happy, intelligent, caring children who share a love of fecal vocabulary with my husband.  Oh well, spotless houses and spotless lives are boring anyway.

Thank you Monday

Thank you Adam Boyette for being a better painter than me.  I just want to slap some paint on the cabinets and you take time and effort to make it look perfect.

Thank you BettieCarol for having the best name to shout and for letting me rub your head for good luck.  Just thinking of you makes me laugh.

Thank you loud bird outside who woke me up yesterday when my alarm failed to do it.  Thank you Adam's Ipod for doing the job this morning.

Thank you to my friend Savanna who is always willing to get in the car with me, even though I get her lost a lot.  I get so interested in what she's saying I forget where we are and miss my turn again and again.

Thank you church for being a place of love for my entire family.  I can't count how many hugs I gave and received yesterday.  

Thank you Stacy for keeping the nanner joke going for almost 20 years now.  If only my parents knew what joy refrigerated bananas would bring me at the age of 35.

Thank you Melody for coming to my house and offering some perspective as well as letting your adorable kids play.

Thank you Helen for running with me 20 years ago and still associating yourself with me. (and for being my FB privacy patrol.)

Thank you to Adam and the kids for my massage on Saturday.  It was 80 minutes of decadence and I only fell asleep once.

Thank you Thursday lunch date who listened to me without complaint for an hour and a half even though I was making you late.

Thank you Paul for being the sweetest five year old I know.  For making me laugh with a change of your face and for making me proud again and again.

Thank you Claire for being the most perceptive seven year old I know.  You are so smart I am already running to keep pace with you.  I can't wait to see you leave me in the dust and become a brilliant star.

Thank you reader for reading anything I type up and helping me keep my dream to become a published author alive.

Happiness is....

Growing up, I always loved Holly Hobbie and her spin-offs with their cute little phrases.

Some of my favorites:

"Happiness is having someone to care for."

"Love is the little things we do for each other."

"No road is too long when shared with someone you love."

"Happiness is sharing."

"Happy is the heart that dreams."

Yesterday I was cooking dinner while Paul worked on a puzzle on the kitchen floor and I was filled with happiness.  Here are some "Happiness is..." phrases of my own.

Happiness is making dinner for your family while watching your children be creative.

Happiness is teaching your daughter a favorite pastime of your childhood.

Happiness is seeing your daughter wear a crocheted cap with pride.  I know for a fact that my grandmother made this and used it as a flower pot cover.  (Please don't tell Claire that fact because it makes me so happy to see her wear that flower pot on her head.)

Happiness is having an uninterrupted adult conversation.

Happiness is catching up with old friends.

Happiness is scheduling your Mother's Day massage in July.

Happiness is listening to your children explain the world to each other.

Happiness is taking your children to an art museum and hearing their thoughtful interpretations of the art.

Happiness is sharing a gelato with your favorite preteen.

Happiness is spending a week with your niece that you love so much and then returning her to her mother.

Happiness is your best girlfriend replying to your cranky emails.

Happiness is sharing your maternal struggles with another mother and knowing that you are not crazy or alone.

Happiness is hope.

Emergency Retreat

Parenting is challenging all the time, but it seems particularly hard during the summer when there are 24 hours to fill instead of just the time before and after school. We stay busy with creative activities and for the most part I am engaged and happy to have the privilege of being primary caregiver at our home, but sometimes I need a break.

A problem of mine is I that I go along my merry way without stopping until I am at the precipice of insanity before I realize that I need some time away.  That realization came to me Saturday as I found myself jealous of Adam spending 30 minutes by himself at the pool store.  Besides a few moments working alone in my office, I hadn't had a moment to myself since a workout on vacation several weeks ago.  My internal clock is off and I haven't been able to get up at my usual 5, so my time is all kids all the time.

I told Adam I had to get out of the house and left.  I found a public place to sit and I sat and breathed for a long time.  Just sat and breathed.  Then I drove aimlessly, picked a random nail salon and ordered a pedicure.  It was fabulous, and my toes look prettier than they have all summer.  Two hours later, I returned home refreshed and renewed.

I'm not proud that it takes me so long to realize that I need a break, that I am not Super Woman with unlimited powers to cook, clean, and take care of kids.  I'm not proud that I had to lose my temper over something petty before I stopped to take care of myself.  But I feel like I have made some progress in that I did stop and reset.  Once I returned home I was calm, collected, and able to make dinner, supervise baths, and read bedtime stories with joy.

I know I am not the only one with this problem.  In fact, yesterday at church, I shared my experiences with a friend who had a similar one on Saturday.  

We all need a break, so I'm going to attempt to take more of them.

I saw this bird on my mini-retreat.  Her feathers look threadbare and she looked exhausted.  She reminded me of me.  (Now please don't ruin my photo and tell me it's really a male bird, because I like to believe it's a mama bird, just like me.)

Appreciating Mystery

During a rainstorm last week with no electricity, the kids and I decided it was the perfect time to go to the bookstore.  Along the way, we noticed many local businesses were closing their doors for the day because they didn't have electricity, either.  We had fun reading the store signs and speculating who had electricity and who didn't and what problems that might cause for them.  Did the employees get paid for the day?  Would the restaurant have to throw away food?  What would happen at the grocery store?  How long can they afford for the electricity to be out without having to throw away food?  Do they have generators?
I love a good mystery.
I'm not necessarily talking about books, although I do enjoy mystery books as well.  I'm talking about mysteries in daily life.  Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it also propels me to a sense of wonder and discovery about the world around me.
We live in a city full of construction.  It seems that on our daily route, a building is always being built or torn down.  Both provide endless fascination and speculation for everyone in my car.  My children and I love to sit and watch demolition crews.  We also love to look at the details of a building under construction, trying to decide what kind of building it will be.  Is it a house?  A gas station?  A restaurant?  Or, my personal favorite, a cute little boutique?
My favorite part about Christmas and all other gift-giving occasions is the mystery.  Not the gift itself, or even giving the gifts, but the mystery.  I love wrapping packages into unrecognizable shapes.  I love not knowing what is inside the packages I receive.
Our world is filled with mystery, and I love that my children share curiosity with me.  At least once a week we research something to learn more about it.  When they ask a question, I am not afraid to admit I don't know the answer.  We brainstorm together what the answer might be, and then when we get home, we Google it.  My 21st century children don't have to search through indexes of encyclopedias and then look in the appropriate volume.  Google is the source of all answers for them.
The problem with Google, though, is that many mysteries can be solved instantly with it.  For me, it's more fun to live in the speculation stage because once you know the answer, the mystery is over.
That's a huge part of what I love about faith.  I don't care how many times you Google the mysteries of faith, God, and the human spirit, you can't decode an answer to your question because no one knows it.  Life is its own greatest mystery.

(piku on sxc.hu)

Dear New Mother

It's a season of new mothers on my side of the family.  I thought of writing a long letter, but then I realized that others may want to read this, too.

Dear New Mother,

Welcome to the crazy, happy, confusing, overwhelming, never-stopping world of motherhood.  I pray that your baby is healthy and happy.  I am not Mother Superior, but there are a few things I can share with you to help your learning curve.

Whether you choose to breastfeed or not, admit to either with confidence.  There are millions of first-time mothers who choose to formula-feed their infants for various reasons.  Their kids turn out great.  There are millions of first-time mothers who choose to breastfeed their infants.  Their kids turn out great, too.

Accept that you will not get enough sleep.  Even on the rare occasion that you have an uninterrupted night's sleep, know that it won't make up for all the other nights and you will often move through your day with an exhaustion unknown to you before.

Know that you are a fabulous mom and the best one your child could ever imagine.  You will always see other mothers who have it more "together" than you.  They will be prettier or skinnier or healthier or more patient or smarter or their kids will bowl you over with awe.  Other mothers are not you, though, so don't try to be them.  Other mothers are not the mother of your child.  You are the best mom to your child, so please be proud.

Be a part of a community.

It's easy to be overwhelmed with motherhood and all the other roles you play in your life.  Your sanity, attitude, perspective on life, and overall mental health hinges on your involvement in a community.  For you, this could be your close-knit family.  For me, it's my church family and best friends.  For others it's coworkers, friends, neighbors, or other organizations they are a part of.  This is the group of people that will listen to you and let you know if you are confronting a mountain or a molehill.  This is a group of people with different problems and perspectives.  Being around them will remind them who you are and how blessed you are in your life.

Motherhood can be overwhelming and my tendency is to "bunker down" and shut myself off from the outside world while I get back in balance.  Really this is the opposite of what you should do, however.  Being in the outside world gives you balance, not the other way around.

Read to your child.  It is amazing how 15 minutes of reading a day sets a child up to be intelligent and sociable.  This action doesn't just make them excel at reading, but also in math, in paying attention, in the ability to sit still, and in caring for our possessions.  When I was a teacher I actually had to teach children to turn pages in a book without tearing it.  I had an entire lesson and chant on it.  When I became a mother I realized how sad that was because my children knew how to turn pages before their second birthday.

There will be other children who are worse than your child.  They will pitch tantrums while your child is still.  Their mothers will yell at them in public.  You will be grateful your children are yours, but don't look down on others.  Tomorrow, or the next day or the next week you might find yourself unexpectedly in the same place. 

There will be other children who are better than your child.  They will know rules of etiquette before their second birthday.  Their clothes will never have a stain.  Their mother will be the epitome of serenity.  Don't look down on yourself, either.  Just be the best mom you can be and be happy with knowing you are the best mom for your child.  Know that your child is best with you.  Who knows?  You might not enjoy having a child that's proper all the time.  Life is messy; you might as well live in the mess.

Find everything you can about the parenting classes/books/videos called "Love and Logic."  It's common sense parenting.

Take some time for yourself.  It makes you a better mom.  It doesn't have to be a lot; just a walk around the block or an hour or two having dinner with a friend.  Sitting by myself and drinking coffee is my time.  This allows you to clear your head and then focus when you return.

Welcome to motherhood both the happiest and most stressful time of your life.  

Love,

Sarah

Expecting less

Some days I feel like I should win an award for superhuman powers.  Laundry, dishes, toys on the floor, and work are all tamed.  I am on top of the laundry mountain, cheering and patting myself on the back for my multi-tasking superpowers.

Those days are few.

Most days I wake up full of hope, possibility, and expectations for the day.  Though it took him months to get his room that messy, I will teach Paul to clean his room in two hours.  I will take the kids to the zoo.  I will wash all the laundry.  I will declutter the counters.  I will squeeze every moment out of my summer "free time" and I will pay attention to the kids and be the best mom in the world.

I set my expectations way too high.  At 5:30 a.m. they all seem realistic, but by 3:00 p.m. I am headed downhill and getting desperate to finish my to-do list.  It's a mere two hours until I start dinner planning and cooking and I usually expect that I will finish my to do list by then.

This week I am catching up on my magazine reading in my "free time" and I read this article: http://www.lhj.com/health/stress/relaxation-techniques/stop-worrying-start-living/

Yesterday I decided I would stop multi-tasking so I could be less overwhelmed.  My new mantra is "I can only do one thing at a time."  I don't believe it yet; I'm still convinced I can do five things well.  I woke up this morning without a schedule, repeating that to myself.  My first "one thing" was catching up on my Bible reading.  I read First and Second Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther in about an hour.  Then I relaxed (took a nap) since the kids were still asleep (our summer schedules are wacky).  When we got up I repeated my mantra and was able to hang eight loads of laundry with the kids help in 45 minutes.  Later, we focused on finishing Paul's room and it was done in 30.  I focused on the dishes and spent 10 minutes catching them up.  It seems I can do a better job when I focus on only one thing at a time.

I am not multi-tasking.  There's still tons to do and I will never, ever catch up it seems.  But I seem to be less stressed when I do only one thing at a time.  I am not so disappointed when I expect less of myself.  In fact, when I expect less, I just might exceed expectations.

Recognizing my role

I remember a time long ago and far away when the center of my life was me.  I don't know if you know, but the earth hasn't always revolved around the sun.  It used to revolve around me.

As I get older, I realize that I am not the sun.  I am surprisingly not the center of the universe, and that's okay.

Whenever I get to thinking that I am still the sun, I'm brought back down to Earth by circumstances.  My children often unintentionally remind me that the universe doesn't revolve around me.  They are trying to be their own stars and creating a universe that revolves around them.  As they get older, they will also learn that their world isn't the only world and there are other people and events outside of their bubble.

Recognizing my role in the world, noticing where I stand, is sometimes difficult.  

Last week we visited a fabulous museum in St. Louis.  I had on tennis shoes expecting to climb just as much as the kids.  Once we arrived, I realized that wasn't going to be the case.  Climbing up tunnels made of rebar isn't comfortable, especially when you're not a size six.  At first I was kind of pouty and wanted to go request my admission fee back since I wouldn't be participating.  Then I remembered that I wasn't the only person in my group.  There were three other people who were having the time of their life.  So I could pout about my limits or I could recognize my role for the day and have fun anyway.  When the day was over, I had a hundred pictures of death-defying heights climbed, balls thrown, ramps run, slides slid, and beautiful artwork.  My job that day was to be an audience, which amplified the fun my family was having because they could all come back and say, "Did you see that?  Wasn't that awesome?"  I could nod and agree that it was awesome because I had seen it all.  If I had been climbing myself I would have missed the joy on their faces.

Everyone needs an audience, and more and more I am asked to stop what I am doing to listen or watch.  Sometimes I do and sometimes I don't.  Sometimes I recognize the importance of the fleeting moment of watching a Ninja Turtle battle and I stop what I'm doing to pay attention.  Often I am overwhelmed with the task at hand and cannot stop.  

My brain is a constant rotating to-do list and sometimes that consumes me.  I am grateful for the times that I am at work rotating through my list and someone comes and interrupts me so I can listen.  I am thankful for the times that my kids stop me from what I'm doing so I can refocus on something beyond myself.  I'm still trying to learn to be grateful for phone call interruptions.  

I know that I am important, a contributing member of the human race.  I also know now that I am not the only member and sometimes my job is to just sit and listen.

Travel Log

We're back from vacation and attempting to now achieve some normalcy.

Two weeks ago the contractors finished at our house.  All of our floors are done, we've just got a lot of work to go.  The kitchen needs one more coat of paint on the walls, two more on the cabinets, and installation of cabinet doors.  Adam needs to stretch and tack down the carpet in each bedroom doorway and then all construction will be complete until something else breaks.

Last week we escaped the stress and headed out of town.  Our first stop was in Wichita, Kansas, where we stayed at Chris and Ashley Borniger's house and played with their new baby.  She is the perfect baby; fat and happy.  I enjoyed holding, feeding, and rocking her while we were there.  We've known Chris since just before we got married and he is Claire's godfather.  Here's a picture of the kids with beautiful Miss Elena.

Our next stop was St. Louis, Missouri.  We were able to stay at a nice hotel for a mere $65/night thanks to Priceline.com.  I didn't take any photos of the hotel's exterior, so here's one I stole off their website.  It's the Double Tree at St. Louis Union Station.

Our first day in St. Louis was cold and rainy.  Instead of souvenir t-shirts, we each picked out a St. Louis souvenir hoodie.  We headed to the zoo because in Fort Worth the best days to go are the rainy days.  No crowd and the animals are excited about the rain.  Because it wasn't crowded or possibly because she is so cute, Claire was selected to help in the sea lion show.  She threw raw fish at a sea lion named Nikki and even gave her a special treat of raw squid.  We've been teasing Claire that she ate the squid instead of feeding it to the sea lion.

The next day we went to the City Museum.  Anyone that visits St. Louis must go there because it is uncommon and unparalleled.  I'm not really sure why they call it a museum because it should be called the City Playground.  Tennis shoes should be a requirement for entrance here because you will be working out all day (or watching others).  The museum is full of tunnels, caves, slides, and countless places to climb.  The kids and Adam enjoyed sliding down the 10-story slide.  I enjoyed taking pictures of it.  More than once I looked at the roof to see the kids or Adam in the air.  I get motion sickness and slides aren't that appealing to me, so I mostly watched.  I tried to climb one of the wire tunnels but my knees let me know that was not an activity I would enjoy.  Adam and the kids were unstoppable, though, and I quickly got over my worrying about their safety.  They climbed to the top of a structure on top of the building; the 11 story building.

  I included this last photo to give some perspective on some of the climbing.  This is on the very top of the 11 story building.  It's a giant dome and the kids and Adam climbed to the top of it.  I don't even want to know how many hundreds of feet they were in the air, but they loved it.  The museum was designed by an artist and it's really indescribable.  Every inch of the place is a work of art, from the mosaic tile floor to the interior caverns to the organ that plays itself.

Admission is surprisingly only $12 a person.  I don't mean to be an advertisement for this place, but it is worth it.  There are even parkour-type ramps for kids and adults to run on.  Paul was a blur most of the day.

The next day was July 4 and we celebrated by visiting the Arch.  We road a boat down the Mississippi River and and elevator up to the top of the arch.  We stayed for fireworks, along with Adam estimates 200,000 other people.  It was crazy crowded and reminded me of that summer concert we went to all those years ago at Texas Motor Speedway.  

The next day we headed back to Texas and stopped in Texarkana to see Adam's godparents.  We spent the night there and then travelled to Tyler to see Adam's side of the family and celebrate July 4th with them.  Adam and his cousin always put on a fireworks display for us there.  Here's Claire shooting a bottle rocket.

We got home at 1 a.m. Sunday morning and yesterday was a blur or exhaustion and unpacking.  Today we are getting back in the routines.  First stop is the vet to pick up the dogs.

Cracker Crumbs and God Images

When I was in fifth grade, my teacher, Mrs. Smith, thought we always needed something extra to help us focus on math.  Every day she would give each student one saltine cracker.  Depending on the day, I would either let each morsel melt in my mouth, or chew it up in a couple of bites.  Those were the most delicious crackers I had ever tasted and they seemed exotic because they were from the teacher.

Saltines come packaged in sleeves and when Mrs. Smith had emptied a sleeve, she would draw a name out of her coffee mug.  This lucky student won the crumbs at the bottom of the packaging.  The winner could lick her finger and gather all the salty goodness at once or hold the package aloft and shake the crumbs down into her mouth or eat each crumb one by one, savoring their deliciousness.

Every time we had crumbs available, I prayed hard to win them.  Sometimes I would just pray a repetitive prayer, "Dear God, please, please, please let me win the crumbs."  Sometimes I would pray a bargaining prayer, "Dear God, if you let me win, I'll be nice to my sister and never fight with her again."

I remember praying just as hard about Six Flags.  My family would go once a year and the week before the trip, my sister and I were so excited we couldn't control ourselves.  We were hyper and fighting and feeding off each other's excitement.  My parents, at a loss on how to control us in the midst of this, would threaten to call the trip off.  I sincerely believed they would do this.  Every year when I went to bed before the big day, I would stay up praying, "Dear God, please, please, please, please, please."

To me, God was some sort of a fairy godmother.  I would want something, pray for it, and either receive it or not.  Praying for Six Flags always resulted in a trip to Six Flags.

Along with being a fairy godmother, to me, God was also a policeman and a judge.  Like Santa Claus, he knew when I had been naughty or nice.  Naughty children were punished.  Bad things happened when you deserved for them to happen and good things happened to those who deserved good things.  To solve fights between my sister and I, my mother often said, "Jesus loves children who share."  My over-active imagination decided that also meant that Jesus doesn't love children who don't share.  As I recall, I was an excellent sharer.

As I grew up, I thought of God not so much as a judge, but a dealer in karma.  At church we were frequently asked how many people we had lead to Jesus and I always felt guilty because my number was always zero.  I would console myself with the parable of the sower and the seeds and hope that I had planted seeds along the way since I obviously hadn't harvested any for the kingdom.

In college, God was my rescuer.  Whether it was a test, a late-night drinking, or a moment of overwhelmed absent-mindedness and loss of car keys, I prayed often for delivery.

Nowadays, I think of God as a constant, loving companion.  I don't believe he judges me, but I do believe he is sometimes sad when I don't live up to my potential.  I don't believe he keeps score, but I do believe he rejoices in our successes and is alongside us through trouble as well.  God isn't a fairy godmother, but I do thank him for my blessings.

I believe that any time you feel love, you are experiencing the Holy.  Whether it's cracker crumbs or Six Flags, or just a day to count blessings, God listens to all my prayers and I am grateful.

Letting Go

In the 1970s my mother sold Avon.  I have two of her suitcases and we use them for travelling.  I love the history of this bag, the bright, unique colors, and the size that's just perfect for an overnight stay.

This week I noticed that the zipper has torn.  It's possible I could find somehow to repair it, but it would be very difficult.  I'm going to have to let it go.

Our home is full; over full of memories and items that hold them.  I tend to forget, so I love having visual reminders of people and places in the past.  The problem is that the longer I live, the more memories and less space we have.

I could blame Adam and his own tendency to keep anything that has sentimental value, but frankly, I'm just as bad, if not worse.

Here's another example:

This spiral belonged to my maternal great-grandmother.  Inside are craft ideas from the 1950s and 1960s.  I've had this at least 10 years and have never even flipped through it all, much less made any of the crafts.  Just a minute ago I had a moment of silence for my great grandmother and placed this reverently in the recycling bin.

Here are Paul's "skeleton pants" with a skull on the back pocket.  He loves those pants, but the snap is now broken and the waist can't go around his waist.  They are too small, broken, and have holes in both knees.  I know that no one will ever wear them again.  We won't keep them and then thank ourselves later for keeping these broken pants.  Yet I struggle with letting them go.  They are so small and he is growing bigger every day.

Now that our floors are finished, we can start putting the house back together.  Our contractor mentioned to me that it looked like we had five houses worth of stuff in our one house.  In a way, he's right.  When my great grandmother passed away, we obtained some of her stuff.  A friend at church gave some of his stuff to us before he passed away.  I was in charge of my grandfather's estate sale when he moved to a retirement home, so of course I took lots of his stuff home as well.  Another dear elderly friend gave us stuff.  There's stuff from Adam's godparents, stuff from garage sales, and stuff that originated with us.  Every time Claire makes a craft, she insists that I keep it as a treasured possession, even the Mason jar with a feather glued in it.

We are living in a house of memories and we are getting buried alive.  So this week I have devoted my free time to learning to let go.  If there is value in every object, there isn't value in any of them.

Five Minute Friday: Rhythm

I love the rhythm of the school year and its predictability.  I love knowing what will take up most of our day and I schedule around it.  Just when we grow weary of the daily routines, there's a holiday that resets everything and then we begin again.

Summer's rhythm is slower and less predictable than the school year.  When we'd normally be putting kids in pajamas at 7 p.m., it's fine to take a dip in the pool.  Dinner at 8:30?  Sure.  We let the day set our pace and try not to rush.  There is too much rushing in life anyway.

It's important to me to keep the kids in a routine when they're in school.  It's equally important to teach them this slowness during summer.  

I have recently discovered that I am terrible at relaxing.  As a mother, wife, and homeowner, there is always work to do.  If I don't hang clothes daily, I get behind.  If I don't run the dishwasher at least once (sometimes twice) a day, dirty dishes start overtaking the kitchen.  However, since there is always work to do, I have to learn to turn a blind eye sometimes.  

So this summer I have scheduled many fun activities.  We'll be travelling around town to experience art and music, and trying to learn about the world as we go.  

We're not going to do too much, though, because this summer I am going to learn to relax.  I am going to be on a different rhythm.  I am going to learn to jump on the trampoline for an hour without a care in the world.  I will read storybooks by the pool. I will learn to sit and listen.

Dog poop, humility, and loving your neighbor

We have some fabulous neighbors and it's easy to love them.  One of our neighbors bakes a cherry pie for Adam each year and brings the kids birthday presents.  One neighbor leaves clippings and extra bulbs for planting on her curb to share with others.  Several neighbors are excellent at driveway chats.  Two kids down the street love to play with Claire and Paul while I talk with their mother.  Yesterday morning, our neighbor across the street who uses a cane and walks only half a block at a time, came all the way over here to deliver a cute watch he had found for Claire.
And then we have the "loose dog house" neighbors.  The neighbors that no matter how many times you tell them politely or rudely in person, no matter how many times animal control is called, no matter what, their dogs always seem to get loose and come poop in our yard.  This isn't new and it's something we've struggled with since we moved to the neighborhood, eight years ago.  I realize that when our biggest complaint of the entire neighborhood is that a dog occasionally comes and poops in our yard that we have it better than most, but it's still annoying.
Tuesday night I was packing and moving furniture and toys for the 1,000th time since March and I was hot and grouchy.  The dogs started going crazy barking and the kids realized we had a "loose dog" pooping in our yard.  I ran out and started yelling at the dog, chasing it back home and popping my apron at him.  Once I chased the dog to his home, one of the owners came out and apologized profusely.  She even offered to come clean up the poop.  I shrugged, took a deep breath and headed home, muttering all the way.  I even complained to another neighbor, "We've had eight years of this!"
I got back to moving stuff, making dinner, and supervising showers when the doorbell rang.  The loose dog house neighbor was at the door with a pooper scooper!
"I'm sorry to bother you," she said.  "But I can't find where the dog pooped.  Can you show me?"
I went outside and found it for her.  She apologized several times while picking up her dog's poop.  My anger diffused, I told her she had humbled me.
Events like this happen often to me.  Just as soon as I, judge of all people, decide that I don't/won't like someone, that they are not redeemable in my eyes, they do something that changes everything.  Just at the moment I have made my mind to hate, grace comes streaming in.
Even when I stamp my foot, love wins.  Every time.

Adam, my appendage

Today is Father's Day and Wednesday is Adam's birthday, so it's time for my annual ode to Adam, my husband and father two the two cutest, smartest, and sweetest kids I know.  (Just ask them and they will confirm that as a fact.)

Some families will be able to let their father relax for Father's Day, but it's impossible around here right now.  We've got floor laid in two rooms now and a bathroom, hallway, and den to go.  We also have baseboards, cabinets, and walls to paint, and all of this will need to happen before construction finishes, ideally next Saturday.

Tomorrow Adam's taken off work and we will take a family trip to Six Flags, but today will be church, painting, and reconfiguring of furniture.

Seemingly a lifetime ago, I fell in love with this skinny boy who was good at math.  Two kids and twelve years of marriage later, I still love that guy.  We became best friends before even thought about dating and I used to call him "Adam my Appendage."

He is like a part of me.  We always joke that I am completely right-brained and he is completely left-brained so together we make one brain.  Lately, he's been extremely busy, probably busier than me.  He's had some major projects at work so he hasn't been able to think about leaving the office before 8.  Each lunch time is taken up with a trip to Home Depot or a trip home to supervise the contractors. He also balances the checkbook, pays the bills, cleans the pool, and fixes anything that's broken.

The family is used to having him around, so it's difficult for all of us when he's pulled in so many different directions.  I get frustrated, but I know he's doing his best.  We hope and pray that once we get these floors in, that we won't be needing to do any more major home improvement for a long, long time.

So today I am thankful for Adam, my appendage.  He is such a part of me that when he's not around, I feel like I'm missing something.  I don't claim to know what it's like to be an actual amputee, but in my imagination, it's in small ways comparable to this.  I get used to having him around, and then when he's called other places, life functions differently.  Luckily his phases of busy-ness are just phases and not a way of life.

Here's a picture from 2008 when we were the Holy Family at church.  I was supposed to be Mary full of Grace but had just fallen off the donkey.  There Adam was, helping me up.  I love that guy!

Measurements of Time

Throughout my life, I have constantly changed the way I measured time based on my life at the time.
Adam and I each have our own Google calendar which we started to use a few years ago.  Switching our family calendar into electronic form saved many disagreements and miscommunication.  At a glance, we can tell when the other will be busy and when we are committed as a family.
I currently wear a $5 watch and had a history of always wearing one until Paul was born and I quit work.  Becoming a stay-at-home mom meant I wasn't tied to a clock any more.  We ate when we were hungry, and went to bed when we were tired.  My alarm clock made sure I woke up in time to get Adam up, but in general, our schedule depended on what suited our fancy at the time.
Now besides the traditional clock which I have to use for work and school, I measure my time in chunks.  I aspire to wake up at 5:00 every morning and usually get there.  That means I have three 30 minute chunks before Adam has to get out of bed.  Lately I've used one chunk for running, one chunk for Bible study and the other chunk is taken up with housework, sleeping in, or checking Facebook.
Once Adam is off to work, we have a long chunk before lunch, the chunk of lunch, and the chunk between lunch and dinner.  After dinner it's baths, stories, and bed.
While my day is measured in chunks, my week is measured in other ways.
Every Sunday or Monday morning, I bake Adam double chocolate chip muffins.  Each one is stored in a plastic container, which I stack next to the kitchen sink.  We start the week with five muffins, and I always look to see how many are left to remind myself how close we are to the weekend.
Weeks are measured by trips to the grocery store.  Every two weeks when Adam gets paid, I plan a menu for the next two weeks and get all my shopping done.  I usually don't have to return to the store until two weeks later.
At the start of every month I change our air conditioner's filter.  Our month is measured by when I have to buy the filter and when I have to change it.
Currently we are also measuring time with boxes.  Since we're getting all our floors redone, each room has to be packed up in turn.  Our contractor should finish the kitchen floor today, so we can slowly start unpacking and will be 1/3 the way to a normal home.
I also measure time with laundry.  "Whew, that was a two load day!" Or "Man, I had so much time today I folded and put up eight loads!"
I am curious others measure time in unique ways.

Boyette Summer of Fun

When the kids were little and I stayed at home, our fun activities were going to the library, zoo, and museum.  They're older now and still love that, but since they're both in school, I spend a long time each May planning out what we are going to do each summer.  Most activities we participate in are free, and many of my friends want to know about them, so I thought I'd share some of our schedule.

In June
Monday mornings at 9 a.m. the zoo opens early for members.  This happens every Monday in June and we're not going to miss it!

Wednesday, June 12 at 10:30 a.m. the Amon Carter Museum has free story time with a craft.  Click the link for details.  This happens every Wednesday and we're going to try to make them often.

4:00 p.m. the Modern Art Museum has Wonderful Wednesdays with free admission and an explanation of an artist shown at the gallery.  There is also a craft, often a sketch.

Friday, June 14 at 6 p.m. the Cowgirl Museum will have a Battle of the Burger.  Admission is free and there will be armadillo races!  As an added bonus, Adam will be at this event in his official capacity as a Sugar Daddy (men's PTA at Claire's school).

On June 26 we'll be in Arlington for a free concert at the Levitt Pavillion.  The band is Vocal Trash and they sound like they'll be interesting.  This show happens twice, so we'll hit the one that fits our schedule.

Another activity we'll do are the Free Fish Feedings at Bass Pro Shop on Wednesdays at 12:30 p.m.

Every Saturday during the summer you can buy a family TRE pass at the ITC station for $10.  We'll be using that more than once to go to the Perot Museum in Dallas, or the Dallas Museum of Art, etc. etc.

On July 17 at 9:30 a.m. we'll go to Calloway's Nursery for Tin-Can Painting.  Free.

We always try to hit as many museums as possible and visit downtown Fort Worth to feel fancy, visit the library, and ride Molly the Trolley for free.  This year I might venture to take the kids to the Water Gardens; I'm a little bit braver and they're a little more steady on their feet.

The Fort Worth Public Library has a slew of activities and we'll go to many of them, but the one I want to tell people about is Lucas Miller.  We saw him last year and I can't say enough good about this singer-songwriter.  He writes catchy songs for kids about major science themes.  (He has one about symbiosis!)  He'll be in Fort Worth in July and I recommend it to everyone!  His program is called Science Rocks.  Click this link to see the schedule of his performances.  I bought one of his CDs last year for $10.  The kids have memorized it, and I even took it to school to play for my third graders.  If you want a sample of his songs, check out his youtube.  Here's one of the kids' favorites:

One foot at a time

A long time ago I was a runner.  I ran for fun during middle school and  high school.  When I was in high school, I got to school at 6:30 a.m. so I could get my run in before the school day started.  In college, late nights "studying" broke my habit.
I know exercise is important so about every six months I rearrange part of my schedule to fit in some exercise routines.  I always hope to make it a daily discipline, but haven't succeeded for a long term basis yet.  It's hard because my life is caring for others and I can't exactly say, "Kids, you guys take care of yourself while I go for a jog."  Adam would watch them, but by the time he gets home at night, I am fading fast.
Last Saturday I had some Kohl's cash and a couple of hours by myself so I went shopping and bought some new clothes.  I also bought workout clothes, but was disturbed that there weren't any workout clothes in the "women who are bigger than a toothpick" section.  I was able to score a pair of shorts that fit, but they aren't very generous in length.
So on Sunday morning I put on my tennis shoes and new workout clothes with a little bit of hope.  I ran 100 yards, maybe, but walked the rest of a mile.  Yesterday I might have run a quarter of a mile.  Today my shins are sore, but I'm going to keep plugging.
I've heard many people say that working out makes them feel so good.  I haven't gotten to that point that it makes me feel physically good.  However, it is a relief to have it checked off my list.  I have pride in knowing I took care of myself that day and I don't feel guilty for being overweight and sedentary.  I also immediately had more energy.
Today I woke up fully rested at 4 and now that it's five, I'm about to hit the pavement.  I'm not winning any awards for speed or style, but I'm taking care of myself, and that's a good thing.

Movie, Coin Show, and Birthdays: A weekend of fun!

This weekend was absolutely perfect.

On Friday night, we watched Herbie the Love Bug on the front lawn at our church. I packed a picnic dinner and we had fun!

On Saturday morning, Adam took the kids to a TNA show. That's right.  It's the Texas Numismatic Association.  The kids participated in an auction and won free coins. 

They were kind of  hyper toward the end apparently.  They had a lot of fun and Sarah enjoyed going to Kohl's by herself.

Saturday night was my maternal grandpa's 80th birthday party.  Here's my grandparents with all their kids.

The fab five.  My mom is on the end.

We tried to get Grandma and Grandpa to kiss, which was  hilarious.

We all had a good time laughing about their squished noses.

They are so cute!

In this photo, Grandma isn't mad.  She's in shock because my aunt got the group photo developed at Wal-Mart during the party.  She had a frame waiting and gave the framed photo to them.  Grandma couldn't wrap her brain around how it happened so fast.

On Sunday we celebrated Claire's birthday at Build a Bear Workshop.  This was a pretty good bargain.  For $171 each of our party guests took home a bear with a sound box inside and clothes.  Our party leader was awesome!  He also asked if I did stand-up comedy on the side which tells you about what level his humor was.

Claire, her best friends, and her brother with their new bears.

Group hug!

Paul's bear is named Batty.  Wonder why.

Claire's bear is named Blackie.


It was a weekend full of laughs and happiness.  I can't wait to see what this summer has in store!