We made it!

I think sometimes as my children take turns reaching for those milestones I tend to let my focus shift back and forth between them. A friend told me she read that the only way to treat your children exactly the same is to only have one child! I believe that. Sometimes they need more from me than other times. More help. More worry. More praise. More attention. More discipline. And if all that fails and I finally realize YET AGAIN that I can't do it all by myself, more prayer. I think I have been so wrapped up in sending Jaron off to big, scary kindergarten that I may have neglected to share some priceless blogging material. I want to get this down before I forget about it.

I was glad for school to start this year. This has been kind of a crazy summer with splitting the kids between several babysitters and a crazy commuting routine. Megan did not start with her full-time babysitter until school started, and while I had awesome people stepping in to help me through the summer, I seriously had printed out a Microsoft calendar to help me keep track of where they were supposed to go each day due to the various vacations, camps, workshops, ballgames, and appointments that needed to be scheduled around. It was color coded(Madison Jaron Megan). I had an awesome friend helping with the baby and an awesome teenager with no baby experience that was more comfortable with just the big kids so it was a little bit of a juggling act. And I had grandmas for in between. I had severe apprehension that I would forget where to go to pick somebody up one day.

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And then Kevin hurt his back. After a few weeks he took over as caretaker of Madison and Jaron most of the time but we kept Megan on her babysitter schedule. It was nice leaving the big kids in bed in the mornings, and while one would assume this change on the calendar would alleviate a lot of my stress, somehow it didn't. I came home to muddy Levi shorts I had bought for "school clothes" laying in a muddy heap in my laundry room(I would totally do a Shout commercial after that day if any Shout execs are reading). I came home to dirty dishes and exhausted children because Daddy time is fun time. I came home to stories something like, "My daddy was looking like a cowboy and swinging his rope and he got me!" or "Has anybody ever chased you with a lawn mower? It's really fun!" And my big kids, who remained best friends through the preschool years when I just knew they would feud, decided officially this summer to spend time every single day not getting along. I was unsure whether to blame the excessive time with their dad, their ages in general, too much quality time together all summer, or my own inadequacies, but I was glad for school to start this year. I have been looking forward to it. I wanted to take that deep, cleansing breath and say that we made it!

We knew it was coming and we planned for it and we shopped for it and we labeled everything and we were ready. Monday morning, aka day 1, I was awakened at 4:40 am by my baby girl who had decided breakfast would not wait until daylight. I snuggled up with Megan, feeding her and dozing a little, as I do a lot of mornings. I usually get up shortly after 5 anyway, so when I finished feeding her around 5:10 I headed to the bathroom for my usual morning routine. The TV was on in the living room. I heard, "Mom? Mom? I got up and brushed my teeth and brushed my hair and got all my new clothes on. I'm ready for the bus! I'm just watching a show about Abraham Lincoln while I wait."

It was true. Our TV was tuned to the History Channel and a very detailed Abraham Lincoln documentary. It sure looked like too much information for me, pre-daylight and pre-caffeine. I said, "Madison, I am pretty sure neither the bus or your new teacher are ready for you just yet!" Much to her dismay I made her go back to bed for a couple of hours. I was glad to see her excitement settle enough to let her go back to dozing peacefully sometime during my shower. All I could think was that presidential documentaries at 5 am and early morning bright-eyed children can only mean one thing. School is ON! With almost a week down, she is loving 2nd grade...and she is back to sleeping until I wake her in the mornings. And she loves her brother again. So I guess we did make it after all!

maybe I need more practice

Jaron has been ready to go to big school for a long time now. Last year, when we took Madison to first grade, he cried the entire 30 miles to preschool because he wanted to stay there with her. He said he was big. He tried to convince me that maybe he was 5 already and maybe he had already had his Spiderman birthday cake. Since I am the cake maker, I was confident that at that time, he had not yet enjoyed his Spiderman birthday cake. He had not blown out the 5 candles that would boost him to that long awaited age in which he could ride the awesome yellow bus to school. Well...as August rolled around this year...there was no denying the fact that he had.

I asked him last night if he was ready to finally go to big school and anxiously awaited the excitement that would follow when he realized it was time at last! He looked away from me and said, "Maybe I need more practice." He only learned to write his name this summer. He wanted to practice some more. This morning when I got him up he wanted to practice his name again. I never considered he would worry about his school work. All this time I have been nervous that he will be bashful. This is the boy who told me he is "shy of lots of people." I just want him to like school and like his teacher and like his new little friends. I want him to be able to get his chocolate milk open and cut up his french toast and not worry about the crowd around him.

I think I have done a great job keeping my poker face on as this monumental day has been approaching us. I have had big smiles for him. But when the big, brick building grew larger as we approached I felt my heart start to flutter. Not with excitement like when I was a student, but with anxiety and hope and dreams and wishes for him. This is my only son. If the world made any sense at all he would be a toddler dumping an entire box of Cheerios in the kitchen floor before throwing them in the air with glee. "Are you going to come in my classroom with me?" he asked with the big, brown eyes. Of course I was. Of course I was going to help him find his desk and find his breakfast and find his teacher and open his milk carton.

Kevin and I were kind of hovering in the doorway to make sure he went where he was supposed to. After he finished eating breakfast there was a moment of hesitation at the doorway as he decided which way to go. His little friend pulled him by the hand to lead him down the stairs to the gym where the students were gathering for an assembly, and he decided to follow her instead of coming back to his dad and I like I could tell he was considering. I felt my eyes start to sting as I walked down the long hall and out the door much more quickly than I had come in. Maybe I need more practice, too.

Just between us girls...

There is something about watching a big, tough man be gentle that melts a woman's heart in a way nothing else can. I was thinking about how funny it is that young men (actually men of all ages) try to show off their strength and abilities when they are trying to impress the girls. They want big muscles and big trucks and big houses and big wallets full of big bills. They want to find the biggest Indian artifact or catch the biggest fish or shoot the biggest buck or trap the biggest bobcat. They think those are the things that will impress the girl of their dreams. I really don't think we should tell them that they could make us proud with far less effort on their part. Just between us girls, I am appropriately proud of my big, strong man and all, but the most impressive sight I have seen in a long time has nothing to do with anything huge and manly. My big, tough man looks most impressive to me when he has a grip on one of his more tiny accomplishments. And all he has to do to impress her is watch her blow bubbles.

Prince Charming

My husband has never really been my Prince Charming. To begin with, I have never considered myself to be a damsel in distress. If you were to look back over my history, you would not find impossibly locked towers or poisoned apples or wicked step-family members. What you would find is a mom who was always supportive even when I did not make the most outstanding decisions. You will find a dad who always fixed whatever ailed my car, sometimes without my ever knowing anything was wrong first. You will find a sister who was always available to laugh or cry with me as the situation deemed necessary. You will find a brother who has always been the tiniest bit over-protective. Math has never really been my favorite thing, but when I add all of that up I get a girl who has always known that there were people who loved her.

Kevin is rarely moved to break out grand romantic gestures. He is not a guy who sends me flowers for no reason. His idea of helping around the house is to hire a teenage girl to come over and work for me. I pick out the majority of gifts I receive for the major holidays. I have friends who ask if this particular aspect of our relationship bothers me...and I can honestly say it does not. I like choosing things for myself that I know I will enjoy or use. Would I be pleasantly surprised to get flowers from Kevin on a Wednesday in January? Yes. Do I need them to know he loves me? No. He may not be my Prince Charming, but one thing I know for sure is that he is the love of my life.

I have loved Kevin since I was thirteen years old. I loved his smile and the way he stood out on the basketball court but did not show off in a crowd. On November 15, 1991, he bought me a Mountain Dew at a junior high basketball tournament and asked me to be his girlfriend. I said yes. He gave me a heart shaped ring with the tiniest diamond chip for my fourteenth birthday. He gave me a ring six years later with some bigger diamonds and asked another important question. I said yes again. I love him for holding my hand when I was struggling to say good-bye to loved ones. I love him for making every day things fun and for making me laugh. I love him for not letting me wallow in a bad mood. I love him for playing with our kids on a daily basis. I love how the kids light up when they see him and how he shows excessive enthusiasm over their latest accomplishments. I love how we can have entire conversations without saying a word. I love that he loves hunting and fishing and how he has started sharing that with the kids(remind me of this during a busy time when I haven't seen him for days due to his being gone shooting or catching something). I love his soft spot for dogs and how he always seems to know what they need. I love how it embarrasses him when I brag about him.

Tomorrow is our tenth anniversary. I look around at friends and family who are divorcing and I can't help but wonder...what makes us different? How do I know that is not going to happen to us? Marriage may not always be what we expected. We may not be impressed with each other every single day. You know those conversations without words? They are not always love and sunshine. I do know that his cheek was against mine on three very important days when I had three very important surgeries resulting in the three most intricate and beautiful gifts that could have ever been given to me. We rarely spend time alone together these days, but loving our three precious children together in that fierce, blind, and protective way that only parents can know, I have never been more content in my life. And I still love his smile. Ten years of marraige and three kids later, we may never know what I would have done for that man if he had splurged for a candy bar to go with that drink!

Just let me see how loose it is...

I think the way a person decides to pull a tooth says something about their personality. Kind of like the way a person chooses to remove their electrodes that go with their heart monitor or the way a person chooses to remove a band-aid. Some people gingerly pick all the way around it and gradually work them loose and some people just rip them off with a wince. It all boils down to one question. Would you rather have less pain over a longer period of time or would you rather your pain were a little more intense and brief?

I am more of a rip off the band-aid type. Get it over with and move on. When I was little, my dad pulled my teeth for me. I would rather let him yank it out than let it stay sore in my mouth all day. And I was very proud of Madison for choosing that same path. She asked me to pull her tooth on Saturday. I had the most distinct feeling of deja vu as I said, "Just let me see how loose it is." I can't tell you how many times my dad said that to me just before handing me a tooth to put under my pillow. Well, it must work well because she did not feel a thing and it was over very quickly. Somehow missing a tooth just boosts a kid up to a new level of adorable. I have asked to see her smile at least a dozen times in the last day and a half. And of course I got a picture of one of them.

Proud Mama

I have been such a proud mama lately. Megan has been sleeping all night for about a month now. She goes down anywhere from 9:00-10:30pm and sleeps peacefully until somewhere between 5:00-6:00am. It has been wonderful! She is such a content little baby most of the time and I am having so much fun with her!

Jaron has been riding his bike like a professional. While he still endures the occasional crash, hills cannot slow him down anymore, and he dodges obstacles in his path like a speed racer. He loves to entertain his baby sister and has been doing his chores like a big boy. What can I say? I am a proud mama.

Madison has chores also. She has been keeping up with them like a champ. I think she is playing house. Yesterday I came home to find her cleaning above and beyond her duties. She later decided to help me fold clothes without being asked. Yep. I was thinking about how much she has grown up this summer and how proud I was of her renewed desire to help mama out around the house. She held up a pair of underwear and said, "Mom, whose are these?" After being informed that they were mine, she replied, "I actually didn't know because they are enormous!" I guess I have always been proud of her large vocabulary too.

So thank you, Madison, for the reminder to get rid of my maternity granny panties. I am 7.5 pounds lighter than when I wrote my last post. I am on my way to being healthy again. Hopefully to avoid this confusion my underwear will be much smaller very soon!

Finally

We have a shiny 4x6 frame in our house that says "Family" on it. I keep our most recent family snapshot there. Usually that consists of a leftover Christmas card photo or a slice of summer fun. Madison has been concerned about that frame since Megan was born. Now that she reads, she takes issue with making sure things are as they should be. She keeps telling me, "But it doesn't have our whole family in it! That must hurt Megan's little feelings!" I am learning that with a family of five, the opportunity to get the family picture is not that abundant(That admission is for you, Mom!). When you think about having all members of the family awake and happy and clean and available at the same time without being in a hurry to get somewhere...well, that is not the sort of thing that happens every day at our house.

At long last (yes, four months is a long time to a 7-year-old and her scrapaholic mother), the holiday weekend provided such an opportunity for the Peavlers. I gathered everyone to Mom's swing and coerced Kristy into camera duty and the end result was our first family picture including Megan Joleen. I put it in the frame and Madison said, "FINALLY! Our whole family is in the family frame!" Yes. She speaks the truth. Looking at it I couldn't understand why I had put it off for four months. I have been waiting years to put a picture of my "whole family" in that frame. And now I have. Finally.