Letters to My Children, July Edition

Remember that blog circle I told you about, like, MONTHS AGO? Where a group of us moms all write letters to our kids and link to one another's posts?? Well, I'm back on the wagon with posting. When you've finished with my post, click over to Evangeline's blog and check out her letter. 

Dear Kids,

What an incredible adventure it has been this past month! We have had such a crazy, exciting July, haven't we? After both of you just returning home from week-long camps at the end of June, we jumped on a plane and headed to San Antonio to visit your grandparents (but not without a fun Independence Day, first). 

In San Antonio, we visited your great grandparents, then headed to Corpus Christie to stay at Gran and Gramps' coast house. You got to know your cousin, Brooke, who you haven't seen since she was just 8 days old. As a rambunctious 2-year-old, she was much more entertaining this time around. You fished, played in the Gulf, skipped rocks from Gramps' dock, blew bubbles with Brooke and had squirt gun wars with your grandparents. Then Daddy and I flew home while you stayed on for more spoiling from the grandparents. Schlitterbahn, Incredible Pizza Factory, movies--you had a blast. The hardest part was saying goodbye, though--both of you seemed so sad, Aubrey crying and begging us not to leave. It took your dad and I a lot of strength to pull away from the club but that day, but we knew you would have so much fun once you got over the momentary sadness, and we were right: you had such a great time. But it was an incredibly joyful reunion when we watched you march up that plane jetway and run to me in the Tampa Airport. We had missed you so much!

Just a few short days after your return home, it was back on the road again. This time, we headed out for a 10-day road trip to visit family and friends. First stop was Atlanta for a quick overnight before hitting the road again. We still managed to cram some fun into our few hours in the city. Torched Hop Brewing Co. was a hit with all of us: video games, shuffleboard, card games, an indoor bocce ball court and great food and craft beers. 

The next morning, we hit the road and headed to Kentucky to visit our friends, the Foxes. The Foxes are our lifelong friends, we met them in Texas during your dad's stint at the Dallas Recruiting Battalion. In those days, Aiden and Stella were teeny tiny ones, Aubrey and Vivian were both born into our families during those years, and we all grew so close (along with a few other couples in our lives at that time). The last time we'd seen them, they were living in Arizona and we visited on our way to driving our van to San Diego for shipment to Hawaii. That was 4 long years ago, so a lot has happened since then! But despite the years and distance, we all fell right back into our friendship, laughing, talking and having a wonderful time.

Aiden, it was so funny to see how you and Stella would interact with one another. Both of you were still fond of each other, but adolescence had put a strain on your once-easy friendship. It is such a joy (and heartbreak) to see you attempt to navigate these new waters, to see you muddle through the complexities of more mature relationships. Watching you grow into a young man is such an unsettling experience. I am filled with pride and admiration, with equal measures of terror and frustration thrown in, at times. Seeing you open your familiar mouth and yet hearing this alien, keeping voice come out of it is so odd. Watching you stand up and realizing that your pants are too short yet again and that your body is longer and bullies and more man-like is equally awe-inspiring and horrifying. The time is passing so quickly, it seems, and the mere recognition of this phenomenon brings tears to my eyes, which I valiantly choke back as I try to write this letter in a very public place.

After our visit with the Foxes, we headed to Mammoth Cave National Park for a bit of family time. We had rented a cabin at Jellystone Park, a cute little campground that had lots of things to do. Both of you loved the waterslide and the pool, bouncing on the giant air pillow and playing mini golf. But as usual, your favorite part of any type of camping is the campfire. Both of you are such little pyromaniacs. Aubrey, you've finally reached the age where we could give you a bit more freedom to explore, and you loved every second of it--lighting sticks, poking the embers, and playing with the kindling. It is so fun to watch your eye light up with discovery, to see you dirty and ash-covered and having a blast. We had a great time exploring Mammoth Cave, both of you enjoying the cave tours, and I was so pleased to see how you confronted your fears and put aside your worries so that we could have a fun time. 

Soon our Mammoth Cave adventures were over, and it was back on the road, this time to Tennessee to visit your great-aunt Shirl and great-uncle Cecil. Shirl and Cecil have always held such a special place in your daddy's heart--they were the relatives he would go and visit every summer for about 2 weeks--so he was so excited to share them with you. Granted, their health is not what it once was and our fun was a bit slower and closer to home than his was as a child, but playing cards, laughing, telling stories and being silly with them was a wonderful treat for us all. It also gave you both the chance to spend time with your cousins, who have watched you grow from afar and love to hear of your adventures. 

We returned home just a couple of days ago, and already the hectic demands of our daily lives are piling back upon us. In just a few days, you both will head back to school, Aiden tackling the 8th grade and Aubrey headed to 4th grade in a new school. Both of you are excited to go back, and I'm glad. I'm also looking forward to the comfort of a predictable routine, but I must admit, I'm going to miss having you home. This summer has flown by, and I feel like much of it was spent either apart or with others. I selfishly wish I'd had more days for lazy summer adventures and exploring, for playing without the stress of a schedule looming. I remember when I was a kid, summers seemed so long. I couldn't wait to go back and tell my friends, who I hadn't seen in AGES, all about my adventures. But now, nearing 40, with the clock hands spinning so quickly, summer vacations seem so brief. I look back, and worry that I've wasted our precious time together. Although you both can drive me nuts at times, I am perpetually aware that each day brings us closer to the day when you'll leave our little nest and head out into the world on your own, and it is such a bittersweet feeling I get. Although I am so proud to see you grow, to watch you both morph daily into more mature creatures, I miss the chubby fingers and drool-covered cheeks of yore. I love you both dearly, and I am so proud to be your mom. Keep patience with me, my loves, when I momentarily forget the incredibly blessing that you are to me, when I take for granted your presence. Because I promise, my dears, I wouldn't wish away a moment of our time together. 

Love,

Mom

OK, now click over to Evangeline's blog and check out her letter. Then click on her link and so on, and eventually you'll land back here...after reading a lot of great letters and checking out some really cool photos! Ready...set...GO! 

A full heart.

Tonight was one of those nights that reminded me what sweet little souls I am raising. 

After dinner, Aubrey asked me (again) if she could have her Blankey back. (You can read about the recent Blankey drama here.) Telling her no was heartbreaking, and she was so angry at me. Aubrey has yet to learn how to deal with her anger without lashing out, and with her vocabulary and gift of sass, her being angry means I get a tongue-lashing of words meant to hurt my heart. I tried to explain to her that as a mom, I didn't delight in keeping Blankey away, that it was a hard decision for me, too. "Really, Mom? You don't know what it's like to have something special taken away. Not like you've EVER lost a stuffy! You have no idea how this feels!" (Yup--only 8 and already pulls this level of sass. I'm DOOMED.)

So, I told her about my own Raggedy Ann doll, a doll I treasured when I was a child, and how one day, after my dad had been telling me for days to clean my room, he swept up all the toys littering my floor into a big trash bag and carried them out to our burn barrel (I grew up in the sticks) and lit them all on fire. My Raggedy Ann doll was in the mess of toys in that barrel, and I was simply devastated. "So, I do understand how difficult this is for you. And that makes it even harder for me to take Blankey away, but sweetie, we have to do this right now. I'm so sorry."

During the story, I watched my daughter's face go from contempt and anger, to shock, to disbelief, and finally, back to anger again. "MOM! HOW COULD YOU TELL ME THAT STORY!!!"  And off she stomped, up the stairs, to her room, furious at me for telling her an upsetting story about a stuffed animal. 

When I reached her room to tuck her into bed, she broke down crying, her anger spent. She clung to me, sobbing, sad for her beloved Blankey, sad for my own lost Raggedy Ann. Suddenly, she broke away and ran to her toy box, and rummaging inside, she grabbed a teddy bear and handed it to me. "I want you to keep it. To take the place of your Raggedy Ann doll. So you won't be sad anymore."  

Be still my heart.

No matter how many ways I tried to explain to her that I was OK, that I'd long gotten over my lost lovey, she wouldn't take back the bear. Then I told her the story of how she'd come to own that bear (it was a gift from her Gramps at Disney World on her first trip to the park, when she was just a baby). I saw her face change, and I asked her, "Would you like it back?" She ran back to the toy box, rummaged around to pull out her stuffed horse, Midnight, and offered me a trade. Then she made me promise that I would sleep with Midnight tonight. Looks like I'll have a little extra company in the bed. 

After these dramatic events, I was in Aiden's room, tucking him into bed. He had heard the entire exchange, and we chatted about how sad she was about the Blanket. Suddenly he jumped up, and dragging a chair into his closet, he reached up onto the top shelf and pulled out a plastic linen bag from the corner of the closet. Inside, Aiden's own baby blankets were neatly folded and tucked away. A few months ago, Aiden decided it was time to pack away those sweet baby blankets that he'd treasured as a toddler, and we decided on a linen bag in his closet (put away, but still close--just in case). He plopped the bag on the floor, unzipped a corner, and laid out the three blankets. Running his hand over each one, he settled on one, grabbed it, and ran into his sister's room and tucked it over her, offering his own blanket--the softest of the three--for her to snuggle. 

And darn it, if my heart didn't break again. 

In the span of this one evening, there have been pre-teen meltdowns, stomped feet, angry words, slammed doors and endless complaints. Brad and I have doled out lectures, handed down a grounding, and threatened more consequences. We've laughed, tickled, hugged and kissed. I've wiped away tears--a tiny girl's and my own. And in the course of the day, these kids have exasperated me, driven me to drink, and filled my heart in a way that nothing or no one else has ever been able to. This motherhood gig has to be the hardest, most intensely-frustrating-yet-amazing job I have ever had. And I am so incredibly grateful for it. 

Echoes: the Project

Over the past year, I've become increasingly aware of just how fast my time with my children is passing. Around my birthday and Thanksgiving, it hit me that I had only 5 Christmases left with my son before he will likely leave home for college. I have just a few short years of childhood left before I'm relegated to an advisory role in his life. This terrifies me, and makes me incredibly sad, but also motivates me to really treasure this time, despite being replete with power struggles and mood swings and pre-teen mouthiness. 

I wrote a poem that captures some of my emotions surrounding this time (it's called Echoes and can be found here). I've also decided to let it drive a series of images that explores some of these themes.

In this series, I want to explore the beauty in what I generally find annoying: my children's constant messes. Before you roll your eyes and click away, think about it like this--every day, I nag and yell and scold about the shoes on the floor, the dirty socks stuffed in the couch cushions, the books and papers and toys strewn about. I'm sure you spend a good bit of time doing the same thing, if you are a mom with kids at home. Yet, in this period of reflection, I am fully aware that one day, I will (in some small way) miss this: the clutter that comes with childhood. The noises, the messes, the chaos and unending laundry. And although, I in NO WAY am advocating that we all just embrace the mess and live like hoarders or wild animals, what I am suggesting is that, even in the aggravating reality, there is a beauty to be found. 

Here are a few images I captured today to get the project started. I'd love to hear your feedback on it, or to see you "find the beauty in the mess" in your own home. 

board game
paper airplane
socks on floor