Missed messages

Dear me of seventeen years ago,
Slow down - you're moving faster than your mind can keep up with.  That's why you're making all these bad decisions.  Decisions that you don't even see you're making are taking you down a road with too many bumps in it.  Try harder and don't give up so easily.  You're really going to regret not applying yourself. 

Dear me of twelve years ago,
Do not... I repeat do not give that guy your phone number.

Dear me of eleven years ago,
Well, you didn't listen (of course).  But now you have a baby on the way.  At least that bad decision is leading you to the best things that will ever happen to you.  You don't know it yet, but this baby is a girl.  Strong and beautiful and your daily reminder of what you have to wake up for.  She'll challenge you in ways you could never have imagined.  And, you'll love her in a way you never knew existed.  She'll make you wonder how every mother couldn't love their child as much.  She'll make you smile all the way into your soul.  And, one day, she'll make you want to scream in frustration.  Take your time with her.  She's a blank canvas, and you don't want to paint a picture of a little girl lost.  Be patient and take deep breaths. 

Dear me of almost nine years ago,
You don't have to walk down that aisle just because all of those people are sitting in the pews.  When you're offered a way out the back door, take a breath and think about it.

Dear me of eight years ago,
Well, you didn't listen again (of course).  Here comes number two.  You're carrying the most precious reason you could ever have for ignoring all common sense.  And, you'll never regret it.

Dear me of five years ago,
Yes, I know he says he's sure that he wants a third.  Yes, I know you've made him think about it for several weeks before you've agreed.  But, you're right.  In about six days (once it's too late) he'll change his mind.  Then, in nine months, you'll give birth to your final chance.  You only get three, you know.  She'll be hard-headed and sarcastic (even at four years old) and ornery.  And, you'll never regret her.  She completes you in ways you can't even imagine. 

Dear me of four years ago,
You have been split into four pieces.  Three of those pieces will bring you the only peace you'll ever know.  Enjoy these days.  They're too short-lived to rush through.  Don't worry so much about what everyone else expects of you.  These three people don't care how clean the floor is or whether everything is made from scratch.  They want to see you laugh rather than cry.  They need to see you smile more than they need to see you trying so hard.  You're not doing them any favors by setting this example.  Be a mama first... a "homemaker" second.

Dear me of three and a half years ago,
Let him go.  Neither of you will ever go back to the way you were before he left.

Dear me of three months ago,
Live it up.  Enjoy yourself.  This will be over soon and you'll only have the memories.  This is the most fun you've had in a very long time.  Leave it with no regrets.

Dear me of yesterday,
Calm down.  Take some deep breaths.  Yes, they've ignored everything you've asked them to do today.  Yes, the oldest one talked back to you like she had lost her mind.  Yes, you have a migraine, an infected spider bite, nausea from the antibiotics, and a to-do list a mile long.  But you also have three healthy, happy children.  Focus on the positive, even though that's not your forte.  If all you have is one bright spot in your day - stand in the light of it.  All of the problems will still be there after the girls are in bed.  Deal with them then.  Let your guard down then.  Until 9:00 tonight, be a light-hearted mama.  That's your job today.

If I had gotten these messages, I wouldn't be here today.  I wouldn't be struggling like I am.  I would be on a different road leading to a different outcome.  But, I might not have the three blessings I do have.  I might not have ever known what it was like to look into their eyes and know that, even through mistakes, you can be lead to happiness.  And, that's what makes all of those missed messages worth it.  That's what allows the sunshine to peek through the clouds every once in awhile.  And, that's what makes it even more important to get the messages the first time from now on.

Already?!

I can't believe summer is already almost half over!  It seems like just yesterday the girls were walking around with their shoulders slumped because there was "nothing to do".  Oh wait.... that was yesterday.  What is it about being out of school that makes children think there should be nonstop action?  Didn't they get the memo that I don't have a money tree growing in the backyard nor a cappuccino drip embedded in my arm?  What's wrong with going outside and playing without having me out there to direct the action?  I don't ever remember being entertained.  No one was following me around with a list of possible activities.  Why am I expected to do so?

While I'm waiting on the answer to that one....  I've been following my girls around with a short list of activities.  Here's what we've "accomplished" in the past six weeks:

• We have celebrated  National Chocolate Ice Cream Day,  National Donut Day, National Fudge Day, National Chocolate Eclair Day, National Eat your Vegetables Day (not their favorite holiday), and National Chocolate Pudding Day. 
• We have gone to play miniature golf.  Maya was particularly adept at this one.  She quickly learned that carrying the ball to the hole, then pushing it in with her club got her under par every time.
• We went to the Marble store because at least two of us had lost our marbles.
• They are all participating in the library's reading program.
• Sofia and Eva are doing a craft at the library once a week.
• We've gone to the city pool.
• Eva went to a minor league baseball game with her Daisy troop.
• They've all gone to birthday parties.

Isn't that enough?!  A resounding NO from the crowd.  Ugh.

I let them stay up an hour and a half later than usual.  Unfortunately, my children seem to think they don't need sleep, so they still get up at the same time every single morning.  6:45 is a ridiculous time for three kids to wake up on non-school days in my opinion. 

They eat lunch outside every day.  Why does that make mealtime last three times longer than when they're indoors?  Must they stop chewing to inspect every single cloud/bug/breeze/fuzzy that floats by?!

When they do finally entertain themselves, they come up with the most amazing things.  They've put on plays and talent shows.  They've created the "Sisters Spa" where I've had my nails done and my feet "massaged" - not my idea, I swear!  And, last Sunday, they turned into secret spies - complete with secret identities and disguises.  They carried out missions (such as find the marbles Maya hid from Sofia) while I made dinner.  It was hilarious.  I love watching their imaginations in action.

Mostly, in the last six weeks, my children have honed the fine art of "stay out of mama's way right now, she's trying to get her stuff done".  Yes, summer "vacation" means only that I now have to get all of my jobs done with not one but three people asking, "Are you almost done?"  "No, dear, but if you stop talking to me for five seconds, I'd be five seconds closer."

In a little over two weeks, we are leaving for our two week stay in North Carolina.  It's the pinnacle of our summer.  It's what we've been hanging on by a thread patiently waiting for.  And, it better be as wonderful as it was last time or I'm enrolling them in summer school next year!

Confidence

You know those people at the pool?  The ones that make you think, "Why do they make that suit in that size?".  The ones that make you wonder if they own a mirror, let alone use one. 

I envy those people.

They just let the rolls and the stretch marks and the cellulite bounce in the sunlight without a second thought.  Now, that's Confidence.  The kind of confidence that I have never possessed.  And, the kind that I would kill for.  You may not want to see all they have to offer, but they couldn't care less.  So there!

Now, while I may not want my girls to grow up to model these people in every way, I would love for them to have that kind of spirit.  To walk around with their heads held high without a single thought of what others may be saying about them behind their backs.  I want to nurture their individuality to the point where they can't even imagine that everyone doesn't want to wear mismatched socks and contrasting patterns.  The world is far too full of girls who all want to look alike.  Girls who, when placed in a group, blend right in until the only people that can tell them apart are their mothers.  Everyone wants to be a follower, even when they don't know who they're following.  It takes confidence to be a leader, even if it's just leading out of your closet. 

When I was younger, it was easy to tell the girls that had no confidence.  They were the ones in the tight, short skirts with their chests padded and pushed out.  They wore too much makeup and entirely too much hairspray.  Without any self-esteem, they looked outside of themselves for validation.  But, public attention doesn't equal personal certainty.  And, without the fearlessness, you're just a girl in a too short skirt trying too hard.  And, everyone knows it.

Now, at the ripe old age of 10, Sofia is starting to hide who she is.  At home, she wears crazy socks and does "interesting" things with her hair.  She sings at the top of her lungs and laughs with abandon.  Outside, however, she insists on being as plain as possible.  She doesn't want to stand out at all.  How do I change that?  And, how do I try to teach her sisters the same lesson before they fall victim to their own insecurities?  I know that everyone has things about themselves that they don't want to advertise.  But, obviously, some are better at focusing on the good.  So, how is that taught?  And, how is it learned?

Those women at the pool in the XXL string bikinis have it.  The men with the beer bellies rolling over their speedos have it.  Why can't three beautiful, smart, funny, special girls have that kind of confidence too?  With a little nerve, anything is possible.  It can even turn stretch marked cellulite into something to be envied!

The soundtrack

What is it about songs that can take you right back to standing in a particular spot with a particular person at a particular moment?  Particularly old songs from an old life?

I listen to my I-Pod a lot.  (I find it helps to drown out the constant fighting and bickering between my children.)  There's a big mix of music on there, and I find my mind jumping around through the decades as I listen.  I can be brought to tears one minute (thanks to Adele).  Bouncing my head the next (oh, Jay-Z, I love you).  Twisting my hips with Shakira or Marc Anthony.  "Yell-singing" with Pink.  Or a dance session could break out with Maya and I enjoying some Black Eyed Peas.

More often than not, however, my mind is somewhere else.  My body is in my kitchen in Kansas, but throw on some 2Pac, and my mind is in the driver's seat of a Hyundai in 1994.  Driving around with a car full of guys getting into trouble and laughing all the way.  Outkast always has me back at Food Lion with my best friend in the world telling LLOONNGG stories that never seem to end.  Black Sheep take me back to junior year with two girlfriends and too much free time on our hands.  N.W.A. and Digital Underground instantly take me back to summers spent with my favorite cousin, sneaking out of tiny bathroom windows and getting stuck (only once) halfway out. 

Sidenote... if you ever get stuck halfway out of a bathroom window in the middle of the night while your Grandma is asleep in the next room, try not to laugh too loud while you wait for the boys to come and help you out the other side.  And, if you're the one not stuck, keep your laughter to a minimum or your cousin could become quite cross with you.



There are songs that take me back to my wedding.  Songs that take me forward into the unknowable but inevitable.  I travel (against my best judgement) back to a time when idiotic things made me laugh and even more idiotic things made me cry.  I am riding through the parts of town I would never take my children near.  I am holding hands with the first boy who ever broke my heart.  I am looking at my children for the first time.  I am watching him walk away through a lightly falling rain.  I am starting over again for the umpteenth time.  I am laughing hysterically at nothing in particular.  I am living.

My I-Pod is the soundtrack for all of my days.  So, when my children are busy playing outside or fighting like crazy, I can throw on a song and disappear into fifteen years ago.  Or sing at the top of my lungs while dancing with my favorite four year old.  Either way, the music guides me through the days when nothing else can.