I'm pretty certain that everyone needs a code name. Unfortunately, I'm not very good at coming up with code names. TBG and I are really boring people. We like to name our cars, since we have 3, so that our minions know which car we are telling them to get into. And they are such creative names as, Blackie (black Dodge Dakota truck), The Pilot (Honda Pilot, also black), and The Little Car (Honda, Civic, white). We couldn't call The Little Car Whitie, because we've already had a car named that. Inventive, right?! Yeah, like I said, we're boring.
So in coming up with code names for my kids, I had to really think outside the box. And then I became stumped for about 3 weeks. They all felt like they should have a vote in what I call them. I keep telling them we are not a democracy in this house. They don't believe me. I need to work on that. Anyway, here is what we came up with. I think most everyone is pleased. Child #3 is not convinced that I have done right by her, but everyone else thinks I'm spot on, so it's sticking.
#1 (18) shall hereafter be called Korea. She loves all things Asian, especially K-Pop. She would love to live in a united Korean nation. Go big or go home, right?
#2 (16) is now Cold War Russia. He is a firm believer in corporeal punishment and dictatorship. Just ask any of his sisters. He could have easily been called Cuba, but he's a fan of the Russian National Anthem and the hammer and sickle, so Russia it is.
#3 (15) is NYC. She could have easily been Paris as well. But as she loves all things fashion and musical, NYC fit better. And she's DYING to live in a big city. A cool one at that...
#4 (12) is Switzerland. It is a tough thing to be the middle child. You get grief from above and from below. So I often tell her when I'm leaving the house, "Be like Switzerland! Don't annoy anyone and they won't annoy you! Be Neutral!!! Don't participate in the drama happening around you!." Sound advice for all of us, if I do say so myself...
#5 (10) is Hawaii. She needs to be an island. It's hard to be 10 when you have 4 older siblings. They don't want to do anything except boss you around and tell you what to do and then try to make you do it. And you want to have your own independence. So she gets to be and island, part of the US but removed from it enough that no one can bug her.
#6 (7) is Georgia. It takes someone special to be the caboose of a large family. It also helps if you are a little bit crazy. We never know what awesomeness is going to come out of her mouth next! She is the glue that holds us all together as she gives us all something to laugh at, and good natured laughter is pretty good glue! She loves everything about sea turtles and first saw them in Georgia on vacation. She wants to be one when she grows up.
My husband is TBG. For years I thought my cousin was telling me she thought he was fat because she kept calling him a big guy. Turns out she just really thinks he's a big guy. She's not even 5 foot and just a tiny think. He's 6 foot and, well, big. Not fat, just big. So after laughing about it for 2 years, we just call him The Big Guy, to TBG for short.
And me? My code name, well, it's much easier to come up with names for everyone else. The jury's still out on me...
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Friday, February 14, 2014
The Beginning...
I was fairly certain that I would have my life figured out by the time I was 30. When in reality, at age 45, I'm still trying to figure out who I am, let alone my LIFE !
This blog is a way of discovering who I am and being okay with it. Thanks for coming along for the ride.
This blog is a way of discovering who I am and being okay with it. Thanks for coming along for the ride.
Every morning my husband and I do this dance. His alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m. He gets out of bed, wakes the younger three children (the older three have already left for Seminary), gets them breakfast, and makes the sandwiches for their lunches. 3 peanut butter, 1 1/2 pb & j, 1 pb & nutella, 1/2 pepperoni. He then crawls back into bed at 6:43 for 15 more minutes of sleep before showering. This is my cue to take the stage. The circus is mine for the rest of the morning.
I ride the crazy train of getting kids dressed, hair done, backpacks packed, snow clothes found, disputes settled, breakfast for the older three (who have returned), all culminating with Family Prayer at 7:35 a.m. and kids being pushed out the door for the short ride to school. Disputes will continue in the car as kids fight over whose turn it is for passenger seat and who gets to pick the music. It is a whirlwind seventy minutes. I love the peace that settles over the house in the ten minutes after they are gone. I feel like I have just given birth.
And this morning, I didn't want to get up. And I mean, I REALLY did not want to get up. I was in a mood. I was not looking forward to all that was required of me to do. I did not want to settle disputes, or find pants for #5, or do fancy hair for #3, or tell #6 her clothes did not match. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to be someone without kids. It didn't help that TBG climbed back into bed 5 minutes early (two kids buying, less sandwiches to make), pushing up my time to ride the crazy train.
I made it to the couch, looked at the weather with #6, sent her on her way and settled into what I felt would be a trying morning. No seminary meant that 6 kids were getting ready in the space the 3 younger kids usually have to themselves. I did hair from the couch instead of the bathroom. And to my surprise, I was granted a Grace from God. No one fought. #1 & #3 let each other borrow shoes without any side commentary. #3 let #4 borrow a tank top and then made an outfit suggestion that #4 actually appreciated and used. #5 packed lunch for #4 who was changing her clothes. #6 didn't complain about getting her hair done. #2 made it out of the shower and downstairs before prayer time.
It wasn't perfect. There were still discussion about who gets to sit where and don't be late to the car after school, and #3 still made everyone wait to leave while she spritzed herself and checked her outfit out in the mirror by standing on the toilet while everyone sat in the car. And I felt the Grace of God. It wasn't a huge miracle, but a gentle reminder that this work I do is important. That my children need more than just my body present on the couch (or in my bed). And that help is there for me, even when I don't remember to ask for it. And it was enough. For seventy minutes, I was enough. I felt love for my children, love for God, and God's love for me. And it was enough.
It didn't stop me from climbing back into bed the minute that garage door shut, or from playing on Pinterest, or my new favorite obsession, the game Threes, or from napping a short time. And that's okay. It got me through the morning rush and gave me a light that I didn't think I'd have today. So when I got up the second time, I was filled with love and gratitude for the opportunity I get each day to be a Mom. Even though it's not always pretty or fun. It sure is worth it.
I ride the crazy train of getting kids dressed, hair done, backpacks packed, snow clothes found, disputes settled, breakfast for the older three (who have returned), all culminating with Family Prayer at 7:35 a.m. and kids being pushed out the door for the short ride to school. Disputes will continue in the car as kids fight over whose turn it is for passenger seat and who gets to pick the music. It is a whirlwind seventy minutes. I love the peace that settles over the house in the ten minutes after they are gone. I feel like I have just given birth.
And this morning, I didn't want to get up. And I mean, I REALLY did not want to get up. I was in a mood. I was not looking forward to all that was required of me to do. I did not want to settle disputes, or find pants for #5, or do fancy hair for #3, or tell #6 her clothes did not match. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to be someone without kids. It didn't help that TBG climbed back into bed 5 minutes early (two kids buying, less sandwiches to make), pushing up my time to ride the crazy train.
I made it to the couch, looked at the weather with #6, sent her on her way and settled into what I felt would be a trying morning. No seminary meant that 6 kids were getting ready in the space the 3 younger kids usually have to themselves. I did hair from the couch instead of the bathroom. And to my surprise, I was granted a Grace from God. No one fought. #1 & #3 let each other borrow shoes without any side commentary. #3 let #4 borrow a tank top and then made an outfit suggestion that #4 actually appreciated and used. #5 packed lunch for #4 who was changing her clothes. #6 didn't complain about getting her hair done. #2 made it out of the shower and downstairs before prayer time.
It wasn't perfect. There were still discussion about who gets to sit where and don't be late to the car after school, and #3 still made everyone wait to leave while she spritzed herself and checked her outfit out in the mirror by standing on the toilet while everyone sat in the car. And I felt the Grace of God. It wasn't a huge miracle, but a gentle reminder that this work I do is important. That my children need more than just my body present on the couch (or in my bed). And that help is there for me, even when I don't remember to ask for it. And it was enough. For seventy minutes, I was enough. I felt love for my children, love for God, and God's love for me. And it was enough.
It didn't stop me from climbing back into bed the minute that garage door shut, or from playing on Pinterest, or my new favorite obsession, the game Threes, or from napping a short time. And that's okay. It got me through the morning rush and gave me a light that I didn't think I'd have today. So when I got up the second time, I was filled with love and gratitude for the opportunity I get each day to be a Mom. Even though it's not always pretty or fun. It sure is worth it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)