New Year, Old Me

Last week my sister visited.  I had already dropped the girls off at daycare, and she came in ready to conquer our mission of my last minute Christmas shopping.  On our rush out the door, I realized that I really didn't need to carry the huge J.J. Cole bag I claim to be my purse, but is actually a diaper bag. I pilfered through the mudroom closet and pulled out a black purse.  A cute small bag that hadn't seen the outside of my house since April 2011.  Inside there was only a hairbrush, a pair of over-sized sunglasses, a planner, and an appointment card.  The appointment card helped me pinpoint the last time I used the bag.  It was for a follow up appointment for my blood pressure check after Reagan had just been born. The planner hadn't been written in since March of the same year.  Nearly every day that month had neatly written plans.  Birth and baby classes at Women's Hospital, baby showers every weekend, report cards, staff meetings, parent/teacher conferences I was trying to squeeze in before I went on maternity leave were all penciled in.  The rest of the year was blank.  A baby really does change everything.

As we left the house that day I thought about how the last four years have really, really changed me.  I have a rat's nest of hair that hangs over half way to my waist.  I may keep a brush with me, but it's for pint sized beauty queens, not me. I have 1235080539438 pairs of sunglasses I never can find.  I keep dates in my smartphone, but kinda miss the fun that came with whipping out my day planner.  My sister has seen the chaos I live in.  The craziness I wouldn't wish on anyone, yet wouldn't take anything for.  That kid free day shopping; every little face I saw, every cry I heard across the mall, made me miss my rugrats.  Despite the fact the shopping day, the solo time was needed (and wanted), when my little ones aren't with me, I always feel like something is missing. The old me had no idea what I was getting into when that baby hiccuped in my tummy, but life raced on to a new normal.

People use this time of year to make resolutions and plans for changes in the new year.  As 2015 is just a couple hours away, I sit here pondering what changes do I need to make in my life? So many changes have already happened so quickly. My best friend welcomed her second baby recently and sent me a text yesterday asking me if all the cool girls drove gray Honda minivans. Well, I looked down... I may or may not have been wearing leggings as pants shopping with all three kids at the market looking less than cool, but for her sake, I said "sure!" But I did confess my current state, because she is my best friend, and really at this point, I have very little shame. In 2015 though, I want to remember before I was mommy: fixer of boo boos, queen of juggling dinner recipes and lesson plans, that I was a pretty okay gal too. I do want to eat better, make sure the girls always brush their teeth before bed, have a little more patience, spend less time worrying and more time praying. That should probably be my resolution every year.  Right now though, instead of rushing to change things about me, I'm just incredibly grateful for all the changes I didn't realize were going to happen.  But I'm REALLY going to try not to wear leggings as pants outside this house again...maybe.

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Home

During this season, specifically this day of thankfulness, I'm humbled with all I have to be thankful for.  The obvious, my faith, my little girls, my husband & little boy, a home, food, and clothes.  Today though, as I put over 200 miles on my odometer, I am really thankful for the place I call home.

For over 20 years of my life, my home was a tiny community nestled in the corner of three counties, population of less than 2,000.  I attended high school in a neighboring town where the student body measured less than 500.  My senior year, my principal was new to our school and the area, commented several times that the people that called this home were the "salt of the earth."  I didn't realize how true his words were until my address was no longer on that rural route.

As I traveled today, part of the journey just me and the girls, I had lots of time to think and sing along with the radio.  Luckily, Anna and Reagan slept, but it made the trip a little lonely. As I flipped back and forth between the Prime Country and the Y2Kountry stations, I heard a lot of songs that reminded me of my little hometown.  Everybody really is famous in a small town.  If your name is Hussey, Garner, Powers, Kidd, Harper... I'm pretty certain my fifth grade teacher can trace your entire family tree for you; she may have in class a time or two.  If you skipped school to cut town and grab some fries at the Chicken Hut, someone would probably see you and tell you parents.  However, these same folks would take your picture in the Homecoming parade, congratulate you after you got baptized at church, and hug you at your saddest moments.

This small town life is something I can't quite explain to even my husband, who grew up a few years ahead of me in a town over twelve times as large.  He's still very much a country boy and despite his office job with big cherry desk and fancy nameplate, is much more at home in the woods with a Husqvarna chainsaw in his hands.  But even so, traveling a half hour to the grocery store is something he's certain he never wants to do.  I feel a little differently though.  At 20, all I could imagine was getting out, getting married, starting a family, having a white picket fence, & living in a neighborhood near a Target.  I have all that, and a not so small part of me wants to load it all up and move where the green grass grows.

That said, I love my home, I love this town, and I love the kids I get the opportunity to teach.  I've taught at 3 different schools now, none of which were in my home community.  My mom was also a teacher.  One with small feet, but very large shoes I knew I couldn't fill.  So, when I graduated college, my goal was to get a job at least two towns away.  Once I got married, I moved homes, moved jobs, became a stepmomma like BAM! It was the hardest few months of my life, but it was an adjustment that left me unafraid of change.  Last year when an opening at a school in the same district as my stepson's, I tossed my application in the hat and thought, if it's meant to be, it's meant to be.  It's certainly been meant to be, for the first time in about 5 years, I feel like I'm almost at home.  You know that feeling when you take your shoes off at the end of a long day, like you can let your hair down and completely be yourself, like when you've eaten too much at Thanksgiving dinner and you just unbutton your jeans...yeah, like that.

I guess what I'm saying is that I'm really thankful for my boondock upbringing.  It sheltered me from a whole lot, it made friends feel like family, and it completely shaped me into who I am as a momma, wife, sister, daughter, teacher, & friend.  But most of all as we traveled today, I started to realize as much as my heart craves to be back in the middle of nowhere, home isn't a place.  Home is a feeling.  It's the feeling I get when my family is under one roof, when laughter fills the air, when hugs and love abound.  That's something I'm rarely lacking, and for that I'm truly thankful.

My Grown Up Christmas List

In September, my dear friend Monica got me to jump aboard her Jamberry bandwagon.  I really enjoy the product.  They are super awesome nail wraps that really live up to my crazy life, and with no dry time, I can actually have cute salon style nails at a fraction of the price while being able to keep up with my two very energetic little girls, their big brother, and 28 fourth graders.

This month in hopes of raising my sales (meeting my second fast start and being promoted to advanced consultant was motivating and exciting for the overachiever in me) and with the encouragement of our team leaders, I ran a promotion that one of our managers was running without much success.  The teacher in me likes to think outside of the box, and the little kid in me was already listening to Christmas music.  This combined caused me to decide to revamp the promotion.  I had been humming the tune to "These Are a Few of My Favorite Things" all day.  If you know me very well, you know I do love my weekly visits to Target, so I decided to offer a Target gift card with any qualifying Jamberry purchase.  This was a hit.  I felt like it was a more genuine incentive, because it was truly mine and I decided all month, when I did run a flash incentive for my little Jamberry business it would be something to do with my favorite things.

There's no doubt that I love Christmas.  As a child, I would run into my parents' room at an insanely early hour in hopes that everyone would sleepily crawl out of bed ready to see if that red suited father of Christmas had been down our chimney.  Apparently two o'clock is too early to open gifts, but by four, it was perfectly acceptable.  I did this until *looking down sheepishly* I was at least 20.  My Memaw had this same childlike spirit when it came to the holiday, and she often wanted to open gifts on Christmas BEFORE lunch which wasn't really okay being that family trickled in during the meal. Memaw was an incredible person, and after watching a funny round woman at staff development yesterday, I couldn't help of think of my Grandmother who may not be here in body, but her spirit is certainly alive in me.  Every time I hold a coin, I check the date; my grandmother saved all the coins made the years we were born.  She saved a "mile of pennies" along with the other members of our church congregation to be donated one Christmas to the North Carolina Baptist Children's Home (a cause very close to her heart).

When Kelly Clarkson started singing on my minivan radio speakers yesterday, I teared up a bit thinking about my Memaw and my very own grown up Christmas list. My oldest is starting to understand that anticipation that comes with Christmas and has started her list which right now has "everything" on it.  But as a grown up, I don't run and jump out of bed to see what's under my tree.  Truthfully, all I could ever want is usually right next to me in our king sized bed.  This holiday season, I want that sense of contentment and love to be felt by others.  So, starting today through this weekend, I'm donating my Jamberry commission to North Carolina Baptist Children's Home in memory of my wonderful grandmother.  I realize this incentive isn't giving you something as a customer, but in the true spirit of Christmas, when God gave us His perfect son to be our Savior, it is only fitting that we pay this love forward with a giving heart.

There's a country song for that...

Growing up with clogging shoes and banjo riffs, my country roots are strong.  Throughout my life, I have always heard a country song playing the soundtrack playing in the background. I swear for every memorable moment there's a country song for that.

I called my sister yesterday and before I even said hello, I belted the lyrics to the Travis Tritt song "I'm a Member of a Country Club." Ironically, I didn't mean just my love for my country music, but my husband's love for golf has actually made us country club members.  I'm not convinced we're country club material, but this summer I will be taking advantage of it by sitting poolside, I'm sure.

When I hear the first notes of "It Won't Be Like This for Long," I tear up and secretly curse Darius Rucker for singing such harsh realities into what is my daily life.  I honestly can't remember the dirty diapers pilling up, the staying up all night with my refluxing baby, or hushing the screams of a colicky infant.  I'm still peeling off a clingy toddler at preschool, but it's true, it really won't be like this for long.  I've already seen how true those words are.

My ringtone when David calls is "God Gave Me You" and while I first heard the song on KLove, it's Blake Shelton serenading me when my husband rings.  Our marriage has been a crazy roller coaster ride the past 5 years, and having two babies within the first 3 years was life changing.  I'm forever thankful that God sent me a mate that compliments me so well and that I have someone that brings out the best in me, makes me laugh, believes in me, stands up to my stubbornness, and makes this journey so much more worthwhile.  

I can sing Mel McDaniel when the babies are wearing their blue jeans, or Taylor Swift when they're acting all "Mean."  Truly, there's always been a country song for whatever moment, silly or serious, happy or sad, that life brings.

Training Wheels

We've been talking about getting our three year old her first bike for Christmas.  It's probably time; she's big enough, her brother had one at this age. Still, I hesitate a bit. Partly because if we buy one little princess something, we either have to buy 2 OR expect them to share... And well, both of those prospects make me want to pull my hair or gouge my eyes out. Watching the two play on the concrete cul de sac we call their play space grates my nerves and requires extra large glasses of wine in the evening to relax.

I still remember when my daddy took of my bike's training wheels.  I was just a couple years older than Reagan and Anna, and I had a huge grassy backyard to crash into. I wobbled, and held my foot on the break so I didn't coast too fast, and I very much wanted to look back and see how far my dad's safe hands were.  As the girls grow bigger, I'm learning to let go and watch them explore.  It's hard.  I don't want to see their skinned up knees or bruises I think I could prevent.  But you know, most of the time, they are more than okay, and exceed my expectations for what they're truly capable of.

A few weeks ago, Anna counted to 15 by herself.  I didn't even know she could count to five alone.  Her sister manipulates nearly all conversations we have, and Anna rarely has the opportunity to share what she knows. Without the safety net of her sister's constant chatter, Anna proved that she, in her own right, has a lot going on and to say herself.  Reagan swears by the time she's four she will sleep alone in her big bed, but for now until then, she will happily stretch her lanky self between her daddy and I.  Luckily we have a king sized bed, because a lot of nights three sets of little feet pitter patter into our room.

I guess in life there are lots of "training wheels."  I think back on my mentor teacher, Mrs. Hall, who taught third grade forever and did her best to guide me through my student teaching experience.  While she had experience and knowledge, student teaching did not do the best job of preparing me for the real world of teaching.  I never wanted to quit student teaching.  I'm pretty sure I wanted to quit every other day my first year.  I'm thankful to Kerry for trusting me to nanny her two little girls for several years. And while I love them and always spoiled them, it probably could never prepare me for how much I would love my own little ones & how 24/7 motherhood was even more exhausting than summers with Jordyn and Chrissy. I guess Reagan is probably ready for her big girl bike.  Because after all, her stabilizers (Peppa Pig talk for training wheels), aren't the real thing.  It's her dad's and my job to do our best to prepare her for the reality of life without training wheels, who knows, when the day comes, maybe we will do it in my childhood grassy backyard.

Staying home?

Two months a year I get to pretend I'm a stay at home mom, and during the past three summers I've discovered one thing for certain.  I hate staying home.  It's not that I don't love being with my girls, but I find being home harder than being elsewhere. They bicker and argue, I get distracted by organizing their closet or cleaning out the garage, and we don't make any fun memories like those I've pinned on Pinterest.  So, before summer even began, I drafted a calendar of something to do most of the 5 weekdays.  It's not a strict schedule, but when in doubt, we consult my calendar and we know what kind of fun is out there today.

For Anna's birthday I bought Summer Passes to the Children's Museum of Winston-Salem.  It's been the best $60 I've ever spent.  The museum has different activities every day from concerts to stories and crafts, even my 9 year old has fun.  Having passes has allowed us to go for just a couple hours at a time without me feeling like we need to try to get everything in.  When it's hot and humid or cloudy and rainy, it's so nice to have the option to stay inside somewhere!


Another fun spot is the Sprayground at Keeley Park.  It's a little far out for us, but for a special trip every couple weeks that's free other than the gas to get there, it's completely worth it!  The girls love the "splash splash" and I love being able to get them outside.  We pack our lunch, get there early, and enjoy the sunshine.  Another perk for me: after enjoying the water for a few hours, a joint naptime is likely to ensue.

Reagan has a huge fear of most animals, but especially four legged ones.  I blame our neighbor's dog, but I don't really know where the fear came from.  However, it is real and it is fierce.  She's even scared of our other neighbor's tiny furball dog.  So, I wanted to take the girls somewhere they could get up close and personal with some animals.  Naturally this would occur on the hottest day of the summer, but I took all three littles to tour Homeland Creamery in Julian.  They all loved the hayride and especially the ice cream afterwards.  We learned a lot about dairy cows & farm life.  It made me miss calling the middle of nowhere home.  When it cools off we may go do it again, just to get a better look at the cows, who seem to dislike the summer heat as much as me!


We also do storytime at the library, playdates with friends at the park, shopping at the farmer's market, and going to visit daddy at work.  The robots there are super cool!   Honestly I'm up for anything to stay busy and occasionally finding some adults to interact with during the day.  We are really enjoying our summer full of "field trips" as Brent told the dentist the other day.  I absolutely love being home with my kiddos, even when we're not at home.

MILF {Moms I'd like to Friend}

I have a great group of mommy friends that I met through an online birth board/forum when I was home on maternity leave with Anna.  If it weren't for this group of ladies, I'm pretty sure I would have felt completely isolated.  Being home with a 1 year old and a newborn was hard work.  Unlike anything I could have ever prepared myself for.  I had a lot of anxiety after Reagan was born and didn't know it wasn't supposed to be like that, until I brought Anna home and I didn't have any of those feelings.  I'm pretty sure my "virtual" friends kept me sane.

I've been thinking about how my children make friends.  We have been home on summer break for a couple weeks, and I've watched my girls interact with other kids at the park, at the children's museum, and at storytime at the library.  I've taken a step back from their sides (I have a whole other post for another day about being a "lazy mom"), and allowed them the freedom to make choices without my hand in theirs.  I, sometimes, tend to hover, and it turns out, they don't need me to!  I know, my jaw dropped too.  The thing with children is, they don't know strangers when it comes to people their own size.  If they want to make donuts at the the pretend doughnut factory, then they jump right beside the next kid, put on a hat and start playing.  If they want to compliment someone on how high they swing, they do it.  If they need to borrow the glue stick from the little boy in the chair beside them, they take it.... So, their communication skills could be tweaked, but when a kid sees and opportunity they take it.

I'm not sure when this ends.  When it stops being socially acceptable to befriend someone you just met.  Perhaps its because we live in a society where you don't know who's a total psycho or not.  Maybe we're too busy to even notice potential friends.  But when thinking about thy type of mom (or anyone for that matter), I would like to friend.  I think about my virtual mommies, who are probably some of the best ladies I know, and I do consider some of my closest friends.  Who else would I complain about how the daycare fed the kids corn all week and now I'm up to my elbows in poopy diapers or celebrate with when my child successfully put herself to sleep for her nap?

In real life though, it's more complicated.  We were buying Reagan lots of big girl panties at Target the other day. She hasn't had an accident in a week and is COMPLETELY done with pullups!  It's weird just having one child in diapers.  A mom stopped me with plastic pants and wanted to know if I had tried them.  After explaining the clean up process (they can't be dried, they're just plastic on the inside, cotton on the outside-- ICK), I told her we just did, big girl panties with a pullup over it.  It did the same thing, but easier clean up. She laughed at my description of my laziness and dealing with messes, if anything, I'm just a lay it all out there kinda girl, and agreed messes weren't her thing either.  She was going to try my panty + pullup method.  I liked her a lot.  First and foremost, she talked to me out of nowhere, and she really wanted to listen.  But that was that.  A lot like my kids' meetings with "friends."  However, Target mom, you're a mommy I could totally be friends with.

I had all three littles at the library and the park last week, and we met a sweet couple with their grandkids.  We made the same rounds.  The park and the library are next door, and I guess it was a good idea to combine both into the same morning.  The grandmother was really sweet and talked to me a really long time about fun things to do, about the girls, and about her granddaughters.  I love grandmothers.  They don't usually have a smartphone in their hands, they genuinely want to engage with actual people.  I've learned to put my phone away more and enjoy the moment.  I do love catching a snapshot of our day and my camera on my phone is the easiest way to do it, but I only have two hands, and I have two small girls who seem to run in different directions.  ALL of me is needed to keep up with them. Being unplugged is liberating.  We have more fun when I'm not scrolling Facebook and Instagram.  Not saying I don't do it, but I make the effort when we are out together or the girls are awake and playing, to put the phone down.  Sweet grandmother at the park, thanks for the reminder you didn't even know you were giving me.

I've watched other moms.  The ones with perfect hair and manicured nails dropping their kids off at daycare.  The ones at gymnastics that cheer their kid on like they're an Olympian.  The ones that drive the carpool to the soccer games.  The ones at restaurants with the beautiful toddlers completely smocked out perfectly eating in the highchair.  I'm not sure I could be friends with them.  I'm certainly not on their level.  There are days when I want to scream.  Nothing goes right.  I can't compete with the supermoms.  I'm a mom living in chaos.  I don't pretend it's all unicorns and rainbows.  It's fingerpaint on the walls and cheerios all over the floor.  If you don't know what I'm talking about, this is exactly what I'm talking about.

In a town where I didn't grow up, where I moved and worked two counties away, it was easy to not branch out of my shell.  But once I did "settle" in, I somehow had two babies and now it feels downright impossible. I'm thankful for wonderful neighbors, great coworkers, and my peeps from college and home that I call my friends, but a little jealous that my toddlers have it all figured out.  They can make friends anywhere!