My "aha moment," thanks for coining that phrase Oprah, was this afternoon while mopping the kitchen floor. Weird right? A bottle broke and I swept it up, but figured I better wipe it up w a wet towel to make sure I got it all, then had a super clean spot on my light colored floor. :/. No good.
I get out the mop and bucket and Thieves cleaner, go ahead, ask me about awesome Young Living products-shameless plug, I admit, and started. Of course I had to sweep the entire floor up, and pick up the letter magnets and put them back on the fridge and was grumbling to myself that I wasn't planning on doing this today, with the size of this kitchen this will take forever. AND, IT HIT ME.
Lately I've had more than one conversation with our daughter about her being grateful for the many things we have and not always wanting more, more, more. This applies to clothes she wants from a certain store, or horseback riding lessons like her friends are taking, or a bigger ice cream cone than her little brother. I tell her she has beautiful things, regardless of where they are from, she takes dance and is in Daisy's and I'm sure there are girls that wish they could do those things, and some children went to bed hungry, let alone had ice cream. Yet, what kind of example am I????
I know she has heard me talk about "I wish we lived in Heritage with the fancy pools and granite countertops." Yet, here I complain about my LARGE kitchen I have to mop. The nicest kitchen I have ever had!!! In a beautiful home in a great neighborhood, in a cul-de-sac that feeds to a fantastic school, and I want more. I am sure there are millions of people, billions in the world, that would give anything for where we live. I am green with envy when my friends get new cars. I actually ask to sniff the new car smell. I have spent hours online researching and comparing SUV's and vans, but why? My van isn't cool, but, to be honest, nothing I am ogling is either!!! That ship has sailed. It is paid off, it runs fine, there is zero reason to get a new vehicle other than, I want. I know there are those that would love to be payment free, have two cars in their family, heck, have a car that is reliable.
Everyone has heard "practice what you preach," "lead by example," and "children learn from what they see,". What are they learning? Better question, what am I teaching?
I need to focus on my blessings. Not just in words, but actions.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Friday, January 17, 2014
My girl...
Today was like most mornings, Marin doesn't want to get up, Markey is throwing his juice cup around the house, my hair looks like Rod Stewarts. We were running late, more the norm around here. I was trying to get her moving, which was not very successful, then Brudder shows up w "The Wheels on the Bus." I felt compelled to stop and read, well, really sing, it. Even on our late day. What the heck? Marin smiled as I went through it, and I asked if she remembered being little and going to library time and singing that song. "Uh, maybe...." I'm pretty sure that meant she didn't remember at all, but didn't want to offend me. She's getting big. Not a baby anymore. She didn't do the hand motions w Wheels on the Bus. **sigh** She's growing up.
Then she wanted to wear jeans. Huh?? Now, if you knew my kid, you would know fluffy and flouncy are her style. She NEVER wears jeans. Doesn't even like pants really. She used to decide her wardrobe based on what was "a good spinner." You know, fluffed out a lot when she spins around. And here, she wants jeans. She said, "the other kids wear jeans." She also pointed out that she would be playing on the playground, and jeans are better for that. Since when? Since when do you care what the other kids are wearing? Since when does playground attire matter? It's beginning. Paying attention to what the other kids are doing. Wanting to be part of the "in crowd." This starts already? She's growing up.
While we're driving to school she asked me, "will I go to first grade here?" I told her I didn't know for sure. We rent, she knows this house is not our own, she knows her room is not really "her" room, it's Cate's... She tells me one of her classmates may move and have to go to a new school next year. His parents are divorced. His mom and daddy live in different places. Is she worried about us moving? Does she worry we will get divorced? I assure her we will do our very best to keep her at the same school, regardless of if we move, and tell her we will all move together. I didn't know she worried about these things. Definitely growing up.
Our routine is I pull up to the school and park along the side, I get out, get her out and walk her to the edge of the sidewalk that leads directly into the building. I don't walk her all the way up. Anymore. I help her on with her backpack, and she grabs my hand, with her eyes big and says, "Quick kiss Mommy!" We peck and she's off. Maybe it was the jeans. Maybe it was the conversations. Maybe it was the way her blonde curls were bouncing as she ran up that sidewalk after a friend. It hit me. She's growing up. I can't stop it.
Then she wanted to wear jeans. Huh?? Now, if you knew my kid, you would know fluffy and flouncy are her style. She NEVER wears jeans. Doesn't even like pants really. She used to decide her wardrobe based on what was "a good spinner." You know, fluffed out a lot when she spins around. And here, she wants jeans. She said, "the other kids wear jeans." She also pointed out that she would be playing on the playground, and jeans are better for that. Since when? Since when do you care what the other kids are wearing? Since when does playground attire matter? It's beginning. Paying attention to what the other kids are doing. Wanting to be part of the "in crowd." This starts already? She's growing up.
While we're driving to school she asked me, "will I go to first grade here?" I told her I didn't know for sure. We rent, she knows this house is not our own, she knows her room is not really "her" room, it's Cate's... She tells me one of her classmates may move and have to go to a new school next year. His parents are divorced. His mom and daddy live in different places. Is she worried about us moving? Does she worry we will get divorced? I assure her we will do our very best to keep her at the same school, regardless of if we move, and tell her we will all move together. I didn't know she worried about these things. Definitely growing up.
Our routine is I pull up to the school and park along the side, I get out, get her out and walk her to the edge of the sidewalk that leads directly into the building. I don't walk her all the way up. Anymore. I help her on with her backpack, and she grabs my hand, with her eyes big and says, "Quick kiss Mommy!" We peck and she's off. Maybe it was the jeans. Maybe it was the conversations. Maybe it was the way her blonde curls were bouncing as she ran up that sidewalk after a friend. It hit me. She's growing up. I can't stop it.
Monday, January 13, 2014
I've heard "you should blog!"
Here's the thing, who doesn't blog these days? Does anyone want to read mine and my kids schinanigans? Yet, at the same time, I would like to record all of the kiddos antics, so that maybe, just maybe, one of them (most likely the girl) will want to read them. Maybe she'll take comfort when she has her own children-good grief, that would be my grandchildren-and she reads that she and her little brother made me want to pull out my hair some days, but I loved them desperately and only wanted the best for them.
Maybe, another mom out there, a friend of mine, or a friend of a friend, or a total stranger, will read something I wrote and relate. Maybe they will feel like they are doing alright, raising their littles, 'cause if I can bumble along like this...
Oh, and I must have thought about blogging long ago, when I clicked the blogger link my friend posted for me, I logged on to the blogger site, low and behold, there was already a name for my blog! If you are curious, and I know you are, "Slick" was the name given to me by my college roommates. Because I had the ability to talk my way in, and out of most every situation, one evening a roommate commented, "you really are a slick mother f^%#er." And a nickname was born. It applied in the 20th century when I was barely 20 years old and living with 4 other girls at Penn State. Let's see how it goes for my minivan driving, dance class car pooling, soccer game attending, church going, 30something, mommy-wife life. And really, I got nothin' better floating around in my head and don't have time or ambition to come up w something better. There's laundry to do, bread to bake, exercise to be done, blocks to be picked up, all while the boy naps and before we sit in the pick-up line!!!!
Slick out.
Maybe, another mom out there, a friend of mine, or a friend of a friend, or a total stranger, will read something I wrote and relate. Maybe they will feel like they are doing alright, raising their littles, 'cause if I can bumble along like this...
Oh, and I must have thought about blogging long ago, when I clicked the blogger link my friend posted for me, I logged on to the blogger site, low and behold, there was already a name for my blog! If you are curious, and I know you are, "Slick" was the name given to me by my college roommates. Because I had the ability to talk my way in, and out of most every situation, one evening a roommate commented, "you really are a slick mother f^%#er." And a nickname was born. It applied in the 20th century when I was barely 20 years old and living with 4 other girls at Penn State. Let's see how it goes for my minivan driving, dance class car pooling, soccer game attending, church going, 30something, mommy-wife life. And really, I got nothin' better floating around in my head and don't have time or ambition to come up w something better. There's laundry to do, bread to bake, exercise to be done, blocks to be picked up, all while the boy naps and before we sit in the pick-up line!!!!
Slick out.
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