Seventeen Seconds

“Mom, will you time how fast I can ride my bike? I ate a lot of food for dinner, so I probably will have a lot of energy to ride really fast.”

“Sure!” I said, while pondering if I really should count or just day dream and fib a bit about how fast he can ride his bike from point A to point B.

“Start counting, Mom!” Noah yelled. Off he goes, faster than the speed of light. Well, not really, but it sure would be a site to see.

One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three … Yes, I really did count. One thousand four, one thousand five… I am not kidding; I really did count this way.

“Stop!” yelled the little speck, on the other side of the park, I call Noah.

“Seventeen seconds!”

A mini-arm pump, followed by an excited, “Yes, I beat my record.”

What record? I didn’t know Noah was riding to beat a record. If I recall, this is the first time we have counted how fast he can ride his bike from point A to point B. Oh well, if he is happy about it, than I am thrilled.

Tomorrow is a new day. Maybe he can try to beat his record of seventeen seconds?

Snow vs. Rain

“To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and to endure the betrayal of false friends. To appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.” 
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

I have been pondering the weather lately because we have not had much of a winter in the badger state. Would I rather endure the snow and cold of winter or a winter full of rain, a bit of snow and lots of puddles? Today, I realized I would rather have snow. Since Friday, it has been snowing on and off; creating a winter wonderland outside.

At our house, the afternoon started off with the kids kicking balls around the house. Not my favorite activity for the kids to take part in while inside the house. Every time a ball zooms past, my nerves cinch a little tighter. Both Dean and I sent the kids upstairs to their rooms to kick the balls around. That did not last long because Noah and Riley began to disagree, followed by arguing and then some tears.

Fast forward five minutes, the kids and I put on our snow pants, winter coats and the rest of our winter gear. For the first time this winter, we actually have some snow. Noah and Riley were playing in the puddles at the end of the driveway. Go figure! We finally have snow and they are dipping their hands in puddles to play with ice chunks. There is something about puddles that intrigues my children.

After replacing some drenched gloves, we made our way to the park in the infamous blue sled. This is the same sled Noah fell out of when he was itty bitty and face-planted in the snow. There were a lot of tears following that face-plant. Today was a completely different experience.

I felt like I was a dog pulling a sled in the Iditarod because the kids kept yelling, “Faster, faster.” Pulling a sled is fun for awhile. Noah and Riley are having a jolly old time because they are sitting pretty in the blue sled. On the other hand, I am out of breath and extremely over-heated as I endure a serious workout by tromping through the snow with 70 pounds of giggling children in tow.

Splat! I jolted forward like a bat out of hell. I spun around to find two silly kids laughing hysterically, while rolling around in the snow.

“Do it again.” They squealed.

We repeated this little adventure over and over again. I never got tired of their silly giggles. When we reached the playground equipment, the adventure on the blue sled had lost its excitement. They bolted off the sled and climbed on the playground equipment. I found a seat on one of the three dinosaurs to catch my breath.

I believe I prefer snow in the winter, rather than brown grass and puddles.

Love is

I did not write the poem below; however, I believe what the author states is absolutely, positively true. Life passes by so quickly and we might forget to cherish the strength and courage we gather from the people we love in our life.

Dean is the love of my life; demonstrating strength, courage and passion each and everyday. He has taught me to be patient and compassionate. He has taught me to not sweat the small stuff. He has taught me to listen more and talk less. He has taught me to not take life so seriously. Wait, I think I may have taught him not to take life so seriously. Most importantly, he has encouraged me to be a better person, friend, daughter, wife, and mother.

Love is . . . Being happy for the other person when they are happy, Being sad for the person when they are sad, Being together in good times, And being together in bad times.
LOVE IS THE SOURCE OF STRENGTH.

Love is . . . Being honest with yourself at all times, Being honest with the other person at all times, Telling, listening, respecting the truth, And never pretending.
LOVE IS THE SOURCE OF REALITY.

Love is . . . An understanding so complete that you feel as if you are a part of the other person, accepting the other person just the way they are, And not trying to change them to be something else.
LOVE IS THE SOURCE OF UNITY.

Love is . . . The freedom to pursue your own desires while sharing your experiences with the other person, the growth of one individual alongside of and together with the growth of another individual.
LOVE IS THE SOURCE OF SUCCESS.

Love is . . . The excitement of planning things together, the excitement of doing things together.
LOVE IS THE SOURCE OF THE FUTURE.
Love is . . . The fury of the storm, The calm in the rainbow.
LOVE IS THE SOURCE OF PASSION.

Love is . . . Giving and taking in a daily situation, Being patient with each other's needs and desires.
LOVE IS THE SOURCE OF SHARING.

Love is . . . Knowing that the other person will always be with you regardless of what happens, Missing the other person when they are away but remaining near in heart at all times.
LOVE IS THE SOURCE OF SECURITY.
LOVE IS . . . THE SOURCE OF LIFE!”

By: Susan Polis Schutz

Love Letter

“Dear Mom and Dad,

Can we have more time together? Then we can have fun. I want to get to know you better. We don’t see each other very much during the week. I want to have a game night. I want to have a movie night. Can we have a family dinner?

Love, Noah”

This is the letter I found in Noah’s school folder when he arrived home from school today. The words melted my heart on so many different levels.

First of all, his words make me realize we have established a safe and happy home environment for him. It is a place he would like to spend more time. For example, over Christmas vacation, I asked the kids to go see a movie.

They responded, “No, we want to stay home all day.”

“Why? Daddy has an extra-long day at work. We should go out and see a movie.”  I responded.

“No, we don’t want to see a movie. We want to stay home all day.”

So, we did just that, we stayed home all day.  We played upstairs, in the basement, in the back room and any other place you can think of. Why not outside? We avoided the outside because it was freezing.

Second, family game night, family movie night and family dinners are as important to Noah as they are to Dean and me. I guess it is time to plan a family game or movie night in the near future.

Finally, Noah is writing. He is writing to convey a message to other people. He is communicating clearly; using punctuation correctly.  Wow!

This was my response to Noah’s letter.

Dear Noah,

I know our weekdays are busy, but we always have weekends. Weekends give us a chance to slow down a bit and spend time together. We will plan a family movie and family game night soon. I am so happy you like to play games and watch movies with your mom and dad.

We love you!

Love, Mom and Dad

Princess

Doesn’t every little girl want to be a princess at some point? My daughter was speechless when she watched her cousin, Emily, model her “princess” prom dress.

She pranced around Emily, while saying, “You’re a princess. You’re a princess.” Most likely, Riley was thinking, how can I be a princess too? I do have to say, Emily looked beautiful in her prom dress.

Riley’s brain must have been processing how she could be a princess ever since. On Monday, she dug her Cinderella dress out so she could be a princess. While digging her Cinderella dress out, she spied my wedding picture.

“Mama, you are a princess. Where is your princess dress?”

“Yes, I was a princess for a day too. Just like Emily.”

“Where is it Mama? Where is your princess dress?” she eagerly questioned.

The rational side of my brain said, “Don’t unearth your wedding dress from the depths of the closet. There are dishes to wash, clothes to fold and carpets to vacuum.” However, the Mama side of my brain said, “Go for it!”

That is just what we did, we went for it. Into the closet we went, searching for the infamous princess dress. We quickly unzipped the white, dress bag and Riley begged me to put it on.

As I stepped into the dress, I heard the rumble, rumble, click, pop, pop of the garage door opening. Dean was arriving home from work.

“Mama, Daddy is home. Let’s show him your princess dress.” We quickly made our way down the stairs. I moved a bit slower since the dress was a little snugger than I remember.

We rounded the corner, saw Dean browsing the mail and asked, “How was your day?”

There is nothing unusual about arriving home from work to find your wife in her wedding gown. Okay, maybe it is a bit unusual; but you only live once. Will Dean laugh? Will he smile? Will the vision of me in my wedding dress bring back all the memories from our “royal” wedding almost eleven years ago?

“Pretty good!” Dean turned around and a radiant smile stretched across his face, as well as a bit of shock to find his wife in a wedding dress. So many memories of our magical day came rushing to the forefront of his mind.

“Mama is a princess!”

The search for the perfect princess dress for Riley continues. For now, she is content knowing she is Mama and Daddy’s little princess.

Harmony

“Happiness is when you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony”

One little word to describe a goal for myself this year is an interesting concept. After reading numerous blogs by teachers who are talented writers, I thought I would give one little word a try this year. I am surrounded by individuals who are making resolutions for the New Year. Maybe, if I approach the New Year with one little word in mind, I will achieve success.

Harmony is defined as agreement; accord; harmonious relations; a consistent, orderly, or pleasing arrangement of parts; congruity.

My one little word for the year is harmony. I am looking to maintain harmonious relations with my husband, my kids, my dad, my brother and the rest of my extended family. For example, harmony before bedtime would be lovely. As the day comes to a close, my kids get wound up. Currently, while I am typing, they are running up and down the hall upstairs yelling, laughing and being kids. In a perfect world, the imaginary monsters they happen to be running from make me realize they are being kids. But, why do they have to run from monsters at eight-o-clock in the evening? Why can’t they run from monsters at six-o-clock? Then, I wonder did my brother and I drive my parents crazy when all they wanted to do was crawl in bed and sleep? Of course we did. I remember sitting at the dinner table, enjoying a home cooked meal and being difficult.

I would whine, “David is bothering me. He is staring at me funny.”

“No I am not,” David would respond.

Of course, the whining and taunting would continue, even though our parents would ask us to stop numerous times. This memory reminds me that I drove my own parents crazy; therefore, it is only appropriate my own children act like kids and disrupt the peace and quiet I long for at eight-o-clock in the evening.

Maybe harmony at bedtime is meant to be disrupted. I mean, life would be pretty boring if you didn’t have a chance to run from monsters once a day.

Pick Your Battles

So many memories flood my mind when I think of my mom. She was an amazing listener and always had excellent advice. One tid bit of advice I will remember forever and always is “pick your battles”.

When I was frustrated, angry, stressed or just plain grouchy, she would listen to my complaints. Sometimes I would be so worked up, my insides felt like they might explode. However, my mom always said the right words; calming my mind and heart.

“Pick your battles,” she would calmly say. “Is that really worth being upset over?”

Of course, I would listen because she is my mom. Next, came the hard part. I would have to bite my lip and repeat over and over, “My Mom said pick your battles. Pick your battles. Is this really a battle I want to pick?” I tend to repeat this phrase to myself as I am convincing myself not to pick a battle.

So, when I am at work or home, I work tirelessly to pick my battles. With my kids, my students, my colleagues, I try to keep everything in perspective and pick my battles. Thanks for the excellent advice, Mom.