So, we had ourselves another snow day today. If memory serves (which, at this point in the game, is a bit shaky) this is our third in the last two weeks of school. Let’s see… we had three days of school, a snow/ice day, a day off due to parent/teacher conferences, then a weekend, then another snow day, two days of school and today — another snow day. So, yes. Three snow days in the past two weeks. This does not do much for one’s sanity. It is, however, pretty to look at, yes?

And fun for the kids, of course. Especially if you’re 15, bored and desperate to snowboard.

This would be Charlie. With a skateboard strapped to his shoes. De-wheeled, of course, because voila! Snowboard! Funny thing about de-wheeled skateboards with shoes tied to them… they don’t really function like a REAL snowboard. This makes for a lot of hopping around.

But you can pretty much get anywhere you want. Provided you want to hop that far. I love that Sam and Bobby are just staring at him like, “Dude… what are you even doing?”

I’m not sure if Sam’s assistance was requested or on a volunteer basis. Regardless, it didn’t really help much, and soon after I snapped this shot, Charlie came hop-hop-hopping back up to the house.

I’m finding that situations such as this — an unexpected day of working at home with the kids off school — force me to remember to live in the moment. Last year, before Jack and Charlie began 9th grade, I realized that we are in the “home stretch” with them. Three years from today, they may be enjoying one of their last snow days as high school students. Three years, people. Gah. That can’t be. Sadly, it’s true. Even last night, as I was saying goodnight to Bobby, I head them in their room playing a video game. It struck me that the voices I heard were practically MEN’S voices — young men’s voices with enough adolescent wavering and cracking to remind me that they aren’t full-grown men just yet. And Sam turns into an “official” teenager next Wednesday. He’s hoping this will put an end to Jack and Charlie constantly referring to him not by his given name, but as “Tween.” I want to warn him that they’ll probably just find some other way to torment and bother him, but I’ll let him savor this hopeful thought for the next six days. Two weeks after we gain another teenager, Bobby will turn 6. Where did my baby go?! And a couple weeks after that, Kate turns 21. Twenty-one. I cannot wrap my mind around this just yet, just like I can’t fathom Tyler being 23.

All this to say, that I fully realize time isn’t just marching by, it’s sprinting. But there’s something about a snow day that makes time slow up a tiny bit. For at least one day, I’m not only knee-deep in snowdrifts, but in the craziness and mayhem generated by these four boys. There will be a day in the future, I’m sure, when a storm will bring enough snow to keep Jeff and I housebound for a day or two. It’ll be quiet. I’ll write, knit or stare out the window, feeling like something’s missing. I’ll realize it’s the buzz of activity that’s currently happening in this house — video games, laughter, periodic pops from the Nerf dart guns. And I’ll for sure miss having one of the boys wander into the kitchen as I’m working and join me at the table with his bowl of Ramen noodles.

A while ago, Justin Timberlake released a song called, “Take Back the Night.” I’ve been humming it all evening, because today, spurred by the almost-13 year old and his independent decision to join a club soccer team without the appropriate level of parental notice, I decided it’s time to “take back the night.” My night.
Lately, due partly to our family’s unique set of circumstances, I have donned a taxi cap for an average of three hours each afternoon/evening. This shoved back dinner, which shoved back the kids’ bedtimes…which began to monkey with that precious time later in the evening where Jeff and I can sit, talk and [gasp] actually have a conversation or watch a movie together. We don’t usually go out on weekends for actual “dates,” so that hour or two at the end of the day is truly important to us. It isn’t that I want to shortchange the kids, since sports are definitely a huge part of their lives, but we’ve fallen a bit too far out of whack.

And it’s time to (say it with me now) take back the night.

I am hopeful that very soon we can sit down with all parties involved, and outline a do-able calendar which allows them to participate in training sessions, while not disrupting every evening of the week. As with everything, there’s much to be said for moderation. And in this case, moderation seems to be the key for all of us to carry on happily.

GRATITUESDAY
Last week I dedicated GratiTuesday to my BFF, Maria, on her birthday. Today, I want to shift focus and express gratitude for the situations, opportunities and events that have shaped themselves into the story of my life. I’ve been a long-time believer in things happening for a reason. I now humbly acknowledge those “reasons” being part of God’s plan for me. I don’t know if it happens to everyone around middle age, but over the past couple of years, it feels like things are falling into place a bit more. Things feel “right;” as they’re supposed to be. To me? This is both comfortable and comforting. I am so extremely grateful for all of the blessings and gifts given so far. I eagerly and faithfully wait for what’s to come, as well.

I’m back.
While I could go into the myriad of reasons why I posted nothing for several months, I won’t. It’s a dizzying mix of busyness, hectic schedules, and the ever-present, nagging thought that constantly whispers, “you have nothing worthwhile to say” in my head. Well, I still may not have anything worthwhile to say,… but I’m going to say it anyway.
The holidays are now in the rear view mirror, and since December 26, we’ve been on a post-operative adventure with Jeff, after not one, but TWO surgical procedures within the same week. These procedures were opted for by choice, because that’s how we roll when we make good use of time off work. For two-and-a-half weeks, I have been Alpha Parent morning, noon and night — cooking, cleaning, driving, shopping, schlepping kids here and there, … generally running the entire show, whilst my Beloved rests and worries that he’s going to inadvertently ruin the surgeons’ best work.
We welcomed the return of school and a (somewhat) normal schedule last week, then received a prompt smackdown from nature in the form of two days off school because of cold. Yes, cold. It’s a thing in Indiana anymore. Just nod, smile and pretend you understand. So, three days of school, followed by four days off did nothing for the kids’ dispositions, because it wasn’t even like a snow day where they end up going outside to play in the snow that kept them home that day. Days off due to bitter cold (i.e., -30 wind chill) keeps everyone indoors, and just shy of the line at which you drive each other batshit crazy. Except for my family. We walk boldly across that line. March, really. Like a parade.
So, yesterday… Monday… began with fresh hope of a full week of school. Only we woke up to falling snow and a 2-hour delay. Fine. We can handle that. I can do a 2-hour delay standing on my head. On fire. The older kids dutifully caught the bus at 9a, while I readied the Kindergartener for his bus at 10. We waited at the bus stop until said bus was 40 minutes late, then I just went ahead and drove him to school myself. Apparently of all the days for the school system to pass up the option of calling a snow day, yesterday was the worst one. Cars and buses were sliding off the roads, accidents were happening and almost happening… it was awful. According to our local news, 40-some accidents were reported around town yesterday. Today, despite another arctic dip on the thermometer (currently 11, with a “real feel” of -6!) we were all in for school happening at regularly scheduled times. While I was glad for the return to the normal schedule, let me tell you something… 5:40a was so not my friend this morning. I actually sat on the edge of the bed for a minute or two, really kind of angry at being awake without the option to go back to sleep for an hour or two. Not even the promise of coffee downstairs would soften my mood, but I got up and went down anyway. Good thing I did, because actually having coffee in front of me did the trick. We all got up and on with our days – kids are at school, I’m at work and Jeff is probably slowly pacing the house since he still can’t drive anywhere, or even walk on snow/ice, for that matter.
All this to say that I completely understand how life can really get in the way of one’s self. Despite all my great intentions of finding time to write, I find that with our family and what we do, it’s not often I a.) find those rare moments to sit down and put thoughts to paper… or computer screen; or b.) don’t find myself completely exhausted at the end of most evenings, where staring at Facebook or Pinterest is about all I have energy for.
But that’s going to change. It has to.
For well over six months now, I’ve felt a renewed sense of faith and purpose – which can be both exhilarating and frustrating all at once. I have more positive, Christian influences in my life now, with life-changing potential than I feel I’ve ever had before. While some people may dismiss things like that with a wave of their hand, and chalk it up to simply “life,” I can’t. I think it means something. I believe it means something. I just haven’t exactly pinned down what that is yet… but I’m leaving myself open for it.
While I wait for this epic revelation, I decided I want to make a conscious effort to recognize and be grateful for various things in my life. Welcome to GratiTuesday. Each Tuesday, I am going to focus on one aspect, thing, person, whatever that I am particularly grateful for. For this, the inaugural GratiTuesday, I want to honor someone with whom I’ve shared a friendship for 34 years: Maria (Miller) Vreeke. Today is her birthday – exactly two weeks after mine (so she can only revel in being younger than me for 14 days each year) and I would like to express my extreme gratitude for our friendship. I have been fortunate to maintain a handful of close friendships throughout my life, and hers is one of them. Maria and I weathered junior high, high school, college, post-college, marriage, birthin’ babies, divorce (mine, not hers. Shout out to Mark for being a super husband to my bestie! Haaayyyyy!), remarriage (again, mine, not hers) and birthin’ of one more baby each to initiate us into the Mid-Life Mommy club. I love you dearly, Maria, and treasure all the years we’ve known each other. While time may pass between our visits, I know we’ll always pick up exactly where we left off, like no time has passed at all. I am extremely grateful for you, the influence you’ve had on my life with your wonderful Catholic self and all the laughter, joy and special memories we’ve shared. Happy GratiTuesday and Happy Birthday to you, Maria!

“The mind of a writer can be a truly terrifying thing – isolated, neurotic, caffeine-addled, crippled by procrastination, consumed by feelings of panic, self-loathing, and soul-crushing inadequacy. And that’s on a good day.”
Robert De Niro, at the 86th Annual Academy Awards, March 2014

It’s embarrassing, really. A writer’s blog that sits unused and stagnant for a stretch of time – days. Weeks. Months.
Ugh.
Oh, if I had a nickel for every time I mentally blogged… Mental blogging gets you nowhere, but it’s safe. Safe in that I can think-blog anything I want without the prospect of harsh criticism. Because *that* is one of my biggest fears: That I will write something – creative or personal opinion – and it will be met with dissent. Even worse, it would be dissected and scrutinized, leading readers to conclude, “Wow. She’s wasting her time, because clearly, she cannot write. She’s just not good.”
De Niro’s quote above could not ring more true. At least for me, anyway. But there’s another quote that snaps me back to reality:
“It’s a dreadful shame how many wonderful books we will not be able to read because someone gave up on their dream too soon.”
Sue-Ellen Welfonder, romance author

It’s funny. That quote has been in my writing journal for over 15 years. I see it every time I open it up, and it never fails to make me feel sheepish for being so quick to push my passion for writing to the side. There’s always something that nudges writing further down the list of priorities, and some rightfully so – family and work leading the charge. But the other distractions need a good, hard smack-down. If I can sit and scroll Facebook for a collective 30-45 minutes in the evening, I surely can replace it with writing.
Sometimes, when I do sit down… hands on the keyboard… all the thoughts that had flowed so freely during the previous 12 hours suddenly end up in a huge mental log-jam. All the funny, strange and weird observations I’d collected suddenly don’t seen worthy or interesting. I stare at the blank screen for a few minutes, fingers still, then close the Word document and go transfer yet another load of laundry. Yet again, I’ve failed to conquer the blank screen.
I’ve had a host of epiphanies over the past several years, where I kind of pull myself together and try to refocus on writing and pursuing my dream. However, with the kids at the ages they were, it was an impractical decision. Now, though, with the older kids are more self-sufficient and the youngest navigating the waters of Kindergarten, they’re all gaining new skills and independence every single day. It’s a beautiful thing to watch our little one’s mind work in new ways, proactively discovering and exploring the world around him. This new independence also allows my husband and I to have a little bit more autonomy over our free time. Not a lot, but enough. Enough to prompt a recent purge of my extracurricular commitments, leaving only those that are directly related to my family.
So, now I find myself with a bit more of a clean slate and a renewed dream. And a little more time to pep-talk myself into conquering the blank screen.

Friends of the Catholic faith have often referred to the ability to get someone (usually a family member, specifically a mother-to-child) to do something by calling up the Holy Trinity (either wholly or separately) as “Catholic Guilt.”
Example:
Mom: “Wake up and get dressed for church.”
Child: [whining] “But I don’t wanna get up…”
Mom: “Jesus hung on the cross for you, and you can’t give him an hour of your week?!”
Child: [silent]
Mom: “That’s what I thought. I’ll see you in the car in 10 minutes.”

I am a firm believer that the Orthodox also utilize this handy tool. In fact, the example above is pretty close to the conversation I had with one of my 14-yr olds on Sunday morning. I usually don’t hit up Jesus right off the bat, but it was the first Sunday of Lent and I wasn’t playin’ around. The phrase I hear most often from them as they fight through groggy on their way to fully awake is, “Why to we hafta go to church?” To which I supply my standard response, “The fact that you’re asking me that question is reason number one WHY you need to go to church.”

They pretty much hate that response. Which is fine because I pretty much hate hearing them whine about getting up for church.

All arguments aside, yesterday morning I decided church was on the agenda. I got word out to the 12-yr old and 5-yr old, and they were fairly compliant. They were dressed in record time and waited for the rest of us in the company of SpongeBob and Patrick. Fine. I finished getting ready, and mentally prepped myself for the second trek upstairs to rouse the angry teens. Much to my surprise, I saw them both up, out of bed and dressed when I got to their bedroom door. A weight was suddenly lifted from my shoulders, and I wasn’t feeling all drill sergeant-y anymore. The fact of the matter was that the chain of events that took place all but cemented my belief that a.) Orthodox guilt works! and b.) Divine Intervention is a real thing. Here’s why. Not more than 15 minutes earlier, when the first wake-up call I’d given the boys was met with undecipherable mumbling and groaning, I held my temper, walked to my room and said a little prayer: “Lord, please give me the strength and guide me to be a good mom, get these kids out of the house and to church without totally losing my mind and doing/saying something very un-Christian-like.” Or something along those lines.

Boom. And the kids were out of bed. With good attitudes.

We made it to church only about 20ish minutes late, and proceeded to participate in Liturgy all the way to the end with just one, tiny scuffle between the 12-yr old and 5-yr old. When we were “regulars” (and I won’t bore you with the details of why we aren’t now… except to say I’m trying to fix that ’cause I need me some Orthodox church right now) the older boys were altar servers, so they didn’t sit with me and the younger two. Having them with me during the service was nice, and I’d be lying if I said my eyes didn’t tear up when I heard them reciting prayers — both out of the book and from memory.

By the time we left church, I felt lighter than I have in weeks. I needed it. I needed the sensory experience that IS the Orthodox Liturgy — the icons, the choir, the incense, the Holy Bread… all of it. It’s everything that church is to me, and has been for 45 years. It’s one of my most important touchstones and I’ve missed it. And now, in the season of Great Lent, the pull of the church is irresistible. But I’m not fighting it. And as of yesterday morning, neither were my kids.

Monday, February 23, 2009

General consensus these days is that we’ve all had just about enough.

Enough winter. Enough sub-zero cold. Enough snow. Holy hell, enough snow.

Enough school cancellations. Enough delays. Enough with the kids hanging around the house because it’s too dangerously cold to go sledding or just have any fun outside. Enough of the same kids eating every last crumb in the pantry because they are simply so bored that the act of eating seems like an entertaining activity.

Enough, winter. It’s enough already.We give up.

My Facebook feed is positively brimming with friends lamenting the same and other cries of exhaustion as this winter has kicked our collective asses. But today? Today we got a glimpse of what will come — spring. The temperature climbed only as high as the low 40s, but as far as everyone was concerned, it may just as well have been 70. I have to admit… it was really nice to walk outside and not instantly feel assaulted by air.

According to the news tonight, we’re in for a Thursday in the 50s, highlighted by thunderstorms, high winds and severe weather in some areas. In Indiana, that is quickly translated into “possible tornadoes.” Of course, right on the heels of this spring-like weather is yet another round of frigid temps and … (dare I even say it) …snow.

Go home, Winter. You are drunk.