Letting go

Like many working parents probably feel, we like to spend as much time as we can with our kids at night and on weekends. I wouldn't say that we are necessarily trying to make up for the lost time (although I guess that’s true, too), but we just genuinely like to be with our kids. However, this sometimes causes conflicts in our parenting.  We let them stay up later than we probably should because when you don’t get home with them until 6, it’s hard to put them to bed at 7:30. And Cole probably eats more hot dogs than he should because prepping and making and fighting with him to eat a more elaborate dinner takes time out of playing and cuddling. The other two facets of this: we don’t let our kids go many places without us, and we like to be there whenever they do something for the first time.

So when my mother-in-law asked if she could take Cole to his cousin’s birthday party at a bowling alley, I panicked. But we won’t be there. And he’s never been bowling. So we won’t be with him, and we won’t see him bowl for the first time. Irrational thoughts? Probably. But when it comes to parenting, we can’t always be rational. However, there comes a time and place when we have to set aside our hang-ups as parents and realize that it’s okay to let go. We had plans that night anyway, so it’s not as though we would be home with him. And I knew that he would have fun. So I had to be a big girl and let him go.

He was sick that day which made the whole situation even tougher, but I got him ready and packed his backpack. He definitely wasn't feeling like himself, but we had been building up this day all week, and he was determined to go. I cried a little when it was time to say goodbye and even more after he left. But he had a great time as I knew he would. And we will have many more weekends. And many more firsts. And we can take him bowling for his second time.

My big boy ready to go to the party

Funny Guy

Cole is at the age where he is really developing a sense of humor and the kid seriously cracks me up. I hope to always remember all of these one liners of his and stories he tells me, but as I’m sure I will start to forget them as time goes by, I thought I would blog about some of my recent favorites.

Said to me while in the car one day:

“I’m going to be a witch. A good witch.”

And then:

“I’m going to put you in a trash bag.”

While playing with the Virgin Mary from his Little People Nativity set:

“This is Uncle Sean.”

After I called him out for acting silly:

“I’m not crazy. I’m a man.”

Out of the blue before Christmas:

“I don’t like the holidays.”

Then another day out of the blue:

“I love Mommy. And Daddy. And Chloe. And Elmo. And the holidays.”

His new favorite saying which is a reminder that I have to be careful what I say:

“I’m just like my father.”

And my favorite recent conversation:

We were lying in my bed together, and I was wearing a World Series Phillies shirt. Cole recognizes the P when he sees it, so he said “Phillies!” Then he asked what else it said.

“World Series Champions. 2008,” I told him. “That’s the year Mommy and Daddy got married.”

“Did you wear this or princess?”

Assuming he meant did I wear the shirt or dress like a princess, I replied, “I didn’t have this shirt yet. I dressed like a princess. I’ll show you pictures one day.”

“I already saw them. Daddy showed me.”

“Oh really? Where?”

“On Facebook.”

What's it going to take?

After 9/11, I remember seeing a lot of people putting flag bumper stickers on their cars and talking about patriotism and even being nicer to each other, especially in NYC. While all that was great, all I could think was, why didn’t everyone act like this sooner? Why did we have to endure a national tragedy for our citizens to be proud of their country? And why does it take something awful like hundreds of innocent people dying to get those of us living to treat each other with kindness?

This thought occurred to me again on Friday as news broke of yet another school shooting. All day I saw posts on Facebook about how the events that happened in Connecticut made parents want to go home and hug and hold their kids. What I don’t get is… don’t you want to do this every day? Don’t get me wrong; I get it. I know that when an awful tragedy like this occurs, it makes each of us take a second to really appreciate what we have and we realize how fragile life is. But we need to remind ourselves of this all the time; not just when something bad happens. I can’t wait to get out of work every day and get to my kids. Their faces are my little piece of heaven and make me feel like I have a purpose in this world. I don’t wait until I hear about a school shooting or a kid getting abducted or a massive hurricane to love them. I smother my kids with hugs and kisses every chance I get. They hear “I love you” from me and their dad constantly.  In several years, they will be “too cool” for all of this, and I will still make sure that they never question how much they mean to me.

A Facebook friend posted that her kids’ school contacted the parents to let them know that starting this week, they were putting more security measures in place. Why did they wait until now? We have been hearing about this type of thing for years now.  I recently posted a status about the security when I had to visit a few local schools. What I didn’t comment about was the one school that I was able to walk right into. No buzzer or locked doors or anything. That is scary. Unfortunately, we live in a world where these things can’t be ignored.

And what about our teachers? I am seeing posts about how wonderful teachers are and how they should be appreciated. Shouldn’t they have been appreciated last week? Before we had to be reminded how wonderful they are by losing someone like Victoria Soto who died trying to protect her students? How about we all take the $1 we would have spent on a lottery ticket and buy a box of pencils for those amazing teachers who every year purchase supplies from their own money. Or we could stop overpaying professional athletes and put some of those millions into retirement funds for our educators. Just a thought…

Now that I’ve probably made a lot of people mad, I’m going to step down from my soap box and go home and hug my kids. Just like I do every night.   

Church Talk

I am not the most devout Christian in the world, and I don’t know everything that the Bible says, but Kevin and I were both raised Catholic, and we are bringing our children up that way, too. We try our best to attend church every week, and we are slowly teaching Cole (and one day, Chloe) about religion. He knows the Sign of the Cross (kind of) and that we take turns standing and sitting and kneeling (Catholic Olympics, as a friend calls it) and that he blesses himself with holy water when we leave. In his growing quest for knowledge, Cole threw me for a loop in church this past Sunday.

“Who is that man?” Points to the large Jesus on the cross at the front of the church.

“Jesus,” I say, hoping that is all he wants to know.

“Why is he standing there?” Hmm, good question.

“He’s on the cross.”

“What’s that stuck on his hands and feet?” Points to his own hands and feet.

“Nails to keep him on the cross.”

“Why they do that?” Oh, boy. How do I handle this one?

“Well, a long time ago, people were upset with Jesus, so they put him on a cross with nails and he died there. But he didn’t mind because he loves us. And it was okay because he woke up 3 days later and went to live in heaven with his daddy.”

“Oh. I want a donut.” End of conversation. Thank God. (No pun intended.)

I’m looking forward to many, many more questions in the future about religion and a ton of other topics that I won’t be fully prepared for. Kind of.  

How is he?

Since Chloe was born, a question that we get all the time is “how is Cole with her?” This is a relationship that was much anticipated for us, and we have found the answer to be quite simple.

He absolutely loves and adores her.

I have to admit that I was a bit worried about issues like jealousy or my rough little boy not knowing how to be gentle with a baby. Yes, sometimes he wants to be picked up when I’m holding her. “You can have 2,” he likes to tell me. And sometimes he thinks it’s funny to poke her in the face or try to pick her up. But while these things do come up, I couldn't be happier about how sweet and loving Cole is towards Chloe. And she just adores him. Everything he does makes her smile and stare and now she has started actually laughing out loud at her big brother. It’s the best sound in the world. I know that as the years go on, there will be plenty of fights, but I hope that they will always love each other as much as they do now.

Meeting- Love at 1st sight!

He loves giving her kisses.

She loves looking at him.

She thinks her big brother is pretty funny.

And a little bit of torture. 

Pure Imagination

I'm loving this 2 1/2, almost 3, age with Cole. Granted, he tests us about 100 times a day, but his imagination is running wild these days, and it is thoroughly entertaining.

Example for tonight:
Leaving Giant parking lot.
Cole: Daddy goes that way (points opposite direction from where we turn).
Me: Well, we live this way. Why does Daddy go that way? To see a girl? (Haha.)
Cole: Yes. (Um, okay.)
Me: Is it his girlfriend?
Cole: Yes
Me: What's her name?
Cole: Keisha
Me: What does she look like?
Cole: A princess
Me: What color is her hair?
Cole: Blue. No, orange.
Me: Does she give Daddy kisses?
Cole: Yes. I like her.
Me: Well, that's great, Buddy. (Laughing)

I can't wait to see what that little mind comes up with next.

Home Sweet Home

When I was 8 or 9, I was walking home from school one day and saw a man taking pictures of our house. I went inside to find my mom sitting at the kitchen table, and I asked what he was doing. I remember her words - that man is taking pictures because we are selling our house. I was devastated. Nothing could be worse to me at the time. I wish I knew then what I know now.

Fast forward to April 2011, and my parents told me again that they were selling our house. Only this time, I’m not a little girl. I’m married and a mom, and I don’t even live in that house anymore. So why am I just as upset?

Over the course of the last couple of months, as my parents finally got an offer on their house, had an offer they made on a new house accepted and started the process of packing and moving, they have both said to me something to the effect of “the bricks and mortar don’t make the memories.” I must respectfully disagree. That house that they are leaving holds countless memories in its walls and oh, if those walls could talk.

They would say that for 22 years, a family lived there, loved and fought there, laughed and cried there. We had good times and hard times and a lot of time in between. There were birthdays and celebrations. Parties that our friends still talk about. We welcomed new people into our family and said goodbye to others. Sundays were for watching football and family dinners. My siblings and I moved out and came back and then moved out again, finally leaving my parents with an empty nest. I got ready for my wedding there and my brother was married in the backyard. A whole new generation of our family started. It was a home for not just the six of us, but for so many others who were welcomed there, so many friends who became family.

I have my own home now with my husband and children, but this change still makes me sad. Sad that I’ll never drive down New Castle Lane again and pull into the driveway at 310. Sad that I’ll never again wonder why we only open one side of the garage or why the builder put the light switch so far back in the powder room. Sad that my parents will no longer be residents of Logan Township. Sad that my kids won’t remember the house that I grew up in and that I’ll never be able to show it to them. But if God is closing the door of our old home, I guess I’ll have to peer into the window of the new one to find out what lies ahead.

“There are places I remember 
All my life, though some have changed 
Some forever not for better 
Some have gone and some remain 
All these places have their moments 
With lovers and friends I still can recall 
Some are dead and some are living 
In my life I've loved them all.”