First Day of School 2022

 There is something magical and nerve wracking  about the first day of school. Everyone woke up eager and nervous. Teeth and hair were brushed, lunches packed, prayers said and off they went.

Matthew, the first grader. He has Miss Stratton this year and has a lot of friends in his class he didn’t have last year. In case you were wondering why he is wearing a coat when the forecast I supposed to be 102 degrees: it’s so when the girls chase him and catch him, he can slip out of their grasp easily. 

What a stud!

William, the third grader! William has Mrs. Robertson. He was very nervous for school since his teacher was new to the school, so out of the three it was the only one he didn’t know! More so, this is his first year since preschool that he didn’t have his best friend, Luke, in his class. (He only vaguely knew one boy in his class this year!) 

William and Baby-mode (knees in his shirt.) All. The. Time.

Johnny. The man. The myth. The Legend. The SIXTH grader! His last year in elementary! 🥺😭. Johnny has Cate’s old teacher, Mr. Finnegan. He is so excited. Also for the first time he is with his best friend Max, among other good friends. He was more excited than I can ever remember going to school the first day.

Goodness I love him. His favorite teacher is the librarian, and every year he makes a stop first thing to tell her hello!

Cate the Great, starting year eight! Her final year of middle school. Her first day was technically next day, but because she is in Leadership, she got to help out with orientation for the seventh graders at Mcloughlin. 

Goodness, if I could just hug a picture!! I love these four!

Per tradition, I promised Johnny we could walk to school. We drove a few blocks away and enjoyed the beautiful crisp morning. As I trailed behind these three, I realized this was the last year I would have all three of my boys at the same school! I felt so grateful the school district is waiting until next year to move sixth grade to the middle school. I love having these three together.

Johnny took off as soon as we got to the school, but William and Matthew wanted me to walk them to their classroom. They each got their teachers a plant and treat for the first day.

Dropping off the little boys ended up being much more dramatic for my mama’s heart than I anticipated. William was in a nervous daze as he entered his classroom. He couldn’t find his chair and I watched his eyes panic as he read all the name tags, not recognizing any names! He sunk into his chair and just looked at his desk, not sure what to do. (Spoiler: everything turned out fine, but it was not an easy visual to walk away from.) Matthew insisted he wasn’t nervous, besides; he’s not a kinder anymore! He marched into his classroom, followed directions and found his cubby. As he clearly didn’t need me, I turned away and then thought—“I’m going to snag a quick picture to send to John.” 

Here is what I found when I turned back toward the classroom:

His head was buried in his hands. I walked back in and asked if he needed a hug. He nodded “yes.”  I asked if he was OK, and he answered with flushed cheeks and watery eyes, “I didn’t know I was going to miss you so much.” And instead of melting into a puddle of tears right then and there I put on my brave mom face and said, “You’re not going to miss me! You are going to have so much fun today and before you know it, I’ll come pick you up and we’ll have cookies after school together! How does that sound?” He smiled shyly and said it sounded good, gave me a hug. 

Then I left.

And held my hormonal pregnancy tears in until made it to my car, and absolutely cried the whole way home. There was something so lonely about walking into an empty home after the often chaotic, messy, and crowded home of Summer. I called John to ask how Cate’s drop off went and he said it was fine, and she talked a lot but he wasn’t paying attention (ha!) and she said some jokes he didn’t laugh at and she responded with “OK, I guess I’m not using that one on my friends.” And I thought about how nice it must be to be John and not neurotic and an emotional mess over basically nothing. 😂

I ate away my feelings then got to work on some organizing projects that have been on my list, and prepping dinner and cookies for after school.

The boys all had the best day. Everyone loves their teachers and it was an afternoon of fielding three conversations simultaneously. It was such a happy feeling. After my worried morning, I was so grateful to see what a great year this is going to be for all of them. 

We filled out all the back to school paper work (ew.) and the kids played with friends until it was time to pick Cate up from Cross Country.

I went to bed that night exhausted, grateful, and happy. Despite the bold declaration that time is indeed passing, I sure love the first day of school with its new school shoes and fresh school supplies. The routine of fall is a familiarity I fell asleep looking forward to.

Cate’s official first day of school!

The boys’ second day of school!

(William’s peace sign, Johnny’s “Hi best friend!” Shirt he had custom made because that is his motto, and Matthew’s that’s-how-I-smile-mom face. Love them.

Cate’s third day of school.

November the First

Well, it's that time of year again. 

Every November first I find myself in a state of grateful grief. Father Time seems to loom over me, as I contemplate the closed door of yesterday. I want to remember how I feel in this moment of slow motion nostalgia. Every year as Halloween ends, it is a hard pill to swallow recognizing next year my kids will be taller, older, and their current interests will shift along in the passing year. November first brings with it a reality check:  time is not something I can freeze because I will it do so. As I sit amongst leaf collections and candy wrappers, I let myself relish what wonderful, fun stages my kids are in. I am crying at my kitchen table, you see. Isn't that a little silly? Of course it is. Yet here I am, weepy as can be as I recreate the images of my kids running around the living room last night, excited for Trick or Treating.  I let my heart settle into yesterday's moment:

I see Caity's confidence and giddy joy as she looks in the mirror absorbing the creepy make-up and snakes pinned in her hair. 

I see Johnny waltzing around the house with his newspape' singing "That's my cigar, you'll steal a nuddah!" 

I feel the impact of William and Matthew, (or should I say Black Panther and Spiderman?) as they pummel into me while they wrestle. 

William's vampire teeth. 

Caity's Medusa pumpkin. 

Matthew's costume hanging by a safety pin. 

Johnny sleeping in his Newsie's hat. 

Four pumpkins lined up in a row.

Kids running full speed house to house. 

Crunchy leaves.

Candy dumped, organized, traded. 

Achy feet, proud smiles.

Witch's stew and apple cider.

Late night chats with friends.

Sleepy and satisfied kids dragging their tired bodies to bed.

It's amazing how invincible they feel in their costumes. Next year, there will be new costumes. Every child will be a year older, and their interests will evolve. October was special this year because my kids were home with me every day due to the pandemic. We had so many fun treats, played silly Halloween games, listened to festive music, watched spooky movies, and cuddled every day to read fun Halloween books. 

Something about Halloween night makes me feel the entire spectrum of my life instantaneously. I am a kindergarten little Bo Peep trading candy with my brothers, a seven year old Mary Quite Contrary sneaking Jack-O-Lantern sugar cookies from the kitchen. I am a ten year old lady bug sprinting to the next house, a sixteen year old girl going to Twisted Flicks in Seattle, a newly wed screaming through the Haunted Mill with John, a new mom walking a little pumpkin newborn in a stroller around Smith park, a twenty four year old playing carnival games with my toddler tiger and preschooler lady bug, a twenty-seven year old chasing a little lion around the trunk or treat, a twenty-nine year old carrying Hulk door to door, a thirty-one year old throwing leaves at my kids as we raced down the Orenco streets, a thirty-two year old planning class parties and organizing the Harvest Carnival at school....and now...a mom crying because her kids are getting older and it has been such a fun run so far, and I feel grateful and overwhelmed by all the good.

October, I already miss you. Thank you for giving me so many sweet, lovely moments. I hope they never lose their vibrancy. Tomorrow I will take down the ghosts, skeletons, and Jack-o-Lantern faces and settle into November. How wonderful that I have a whole year before next Halloween to spend with my family and cherish the time as it comes, and not always as it passes. 

Left over pumpkin carving mess that greeted me this morning.

Back to School Night 2018

Back to School Night was the absolute WORST.
I should preface that I was anticipating this night for weeks. I love school supplies. I love meeting teachers. I love getting to see where my kids will spend their days. I love seeing old friends. I had this amazing, unrealistic image in my head of us skipping through daisy fields to the school where we yacht-club-style laugh with the teacher over sweet things the kids say. It was going to be a crowning moment for me as a mom. And this embarrassed-to-admit part of me thought everyone would watch us and think, "Now, what a cute little family, that mom has it TOGETHER."
It was seriously a perfect storm. First, it started an hour earlier than last year and ended thirty minutes earlier than that past. We didn't find this out until the event started. So we hustled our behinds so to look presentable (first impressions are everything, right?) We left our extremely messy house (there was still confetti EVERYWHERE from Caity's birthday.) And we had to speed walk as fast as we could to the school with twenty pound back packs in tow. There was whining, there was fighting, there was crying. I don't know how I ended up carrying both backpacks while pushing the stroller, but I did.  Matthew and William both desperately needed naps. And food. And baths. That was the main problem here.
By the time we made it to the school. I was sweating all over, and not in the glisten-way, more like the high-school-boys-after-football- practice-way. It didn't look pretty, it didn't smell pretty.
We got our class assignments and neither child was in their friends' classes. That was disappointing. Johnny's friend ran up to talk to him. Johnny looked at him, shrugged, and ran away to do I don't know what. I couldn't go retrieve him and teach him manners, because Matthew was curled in a ball around my leg crying. Caity was pacing and verbally talking herself down from an emotional cliff that Rowan and her weren't in the same class. William was randomly hitting me, saying he wanted ice cream NOW. (Again, manners are MIA) I just looked at the mom of ditched friend and tried to think of viable excuses for why Johnny acted so rude, as the friend stood there looking crushed. While dragging William with my leg, and carrying Matthew over my shoulder, I found Johnny.  We went to the classrooms. William and Matthew are now completely overwhelmed with all the noise and people and they are hungry and tired and they have turned to completely terrors. They are wrestling and screaming. Matthew has a runny nose. William is just yelling as loud as he can every ten seconds. At first I try to give an apologetic smile to everyone around me as I patiently dealt with the problem. That shifted to "Let's just get the heck out of here" mode.  Johnny had to go tell his teacher something about himself to get his ice-cream ticket. I asked him what he was going to say. He said "I'm going to say I LOVE reading." I told him that was perfect. He went up to his teacher and said, "I love TV!" I'm sure she was impressed. I said, "Really, TV?"  He said, "TV was the best thing this summer." A commentary started in my head: Did TV take you to the zoo? Did TV take you to the beach? Was TV fun when we went camping? How was TV at playing catch? And so on. At this point, I had resigned. William and Matthew somehow have filthy faces at this point (And remember- Matthew has a runny nose to boot.) They are still yelling and fighting. I haven't acknowledged poor Caity during this whole thing. She was incessantly talking. She was anxious and trying to process everything and was on the way to an anxiety attack, I could tell. She just kept talking and talking. I wish I was listening to her concerns. It was hard to this with William and Matthew hitting me and their theatrics. By the time we made it to Caity's classroom, Meet the Teacher was over (because we had the times wrong.) She was so overwhelmed with where everything was supposed to go, she was in near tears. William was pulling books off of shelves. Matthew was crying and wiping snot all over his face. Johnny kept asking to play outside and asking why we weren't outside and how much longer it would go outside. Meanwhile, I was trying to scan a barcode with all the class rules, and volunteer responsibilities. I stink at technology. Throw in crying kids, it doesn't get better- I'll say that much. The next thirty minutes were more of the same. kids refusing to come down stairs, Johnny running off, Caity talking, Me trying to keep it classy and not completely lose it.
Every one was watching. And yes, I know that's an exaggeration, but it really was bad.
My dreams of "Cute family that has it together" (Ha!) were dashed. I was humbled.
I saw a lot of pity. I felt pretty isolated. I remembered every school function that this had happened at. In that moment I literally wondered if moving to a completely new place was the best solution. I decided that was irrational, and I just needed to man up.
 As we finally left the school,  I thought- "Well, that was a nightmare."
But I'm so grateful I got to be there. I'm grateful I get to be a mom. I'm grateful that it was "a nightmare" and not what every day looks like for us. I learned a lot that day, and hopefully the future will go better. We got home and vacuumed the confetti and washed the dishes. We sat on the couch and read stories. I sat on Caity's bed and was finally able to listen to all her concerns while she processed everything. I was able to talk Johnny with help from Dad about manners and listening, and good ways to deal with stressful situations that don't involve running away.  William and Matthew went straight to bed after getting some food (very quickly might I add.)
It was a bad night. It isn't a bad life.
It's a good life.
And I wanted to remember amidst the flowery-life-is-beautiful posts, there are days in the trenches with grenades going off in every direction, and there is still something beautiful in that. Life isn't a product, it's a process and I am learning, we are learning as family.

And here's me trying to get a normal picture of four kids:

MMA Morning Wake up Call

Excuse the following series of blurry, abstract photographs. They represent an attempt in capturing what I endure every morning as consequence of both sharing a bed with my husband and giving birth to three boys.  One by one those boys make their way to our bedroom, and give us a play by play of how their last night's sleep went. Johnny is typically chipper and usually let's us know he's been awake at least three hours already (usually not true.) William is always pretty proud of himself and happy that the sleeping portion of his 24 hour routine is now completed, "I 'WAKE!" He'll then curl up in a ball next to me so I can hug him and rub his back.  Matthew is a bit of a wild card. Sometimes he comes bolting into our bedroom all squeals and excitement, other days he is pretty livid with the world and just yells "Nooooooo!" while gathering his bearings.  No matter Matthew's mood, his requests are typically the same: that he weasel his way between John and me, and that I go warm up some milk for him.  While I am away serving that two foot tall tyrant, he excitedly arranges his blankie around him and nuzzles into dad. He'll then take a deep breath of anticipation as if he is saying, "All systems go! Momma, bring me my milk!" Then, I'm pretty sure fireworks go off around him spelling, "Youngest Child Right Here!"
These mornings are all fine and dandy for the brief moments that the five of us peacefuly enjoy each other's company.  There is chatter and joking and cuddling...then IT happens.  What is IT, you ask?
The wrestling. The crawling. The throwing. The growling. The swinging. The clamoring. The hitting. The pulling. The pushing. The creeping. The jumping. The landing. The legs in the air.
Our bed quickly transforms to a wrestling arena.
What was once a cheerful, quiet morning turns into a mixed martial arts display of their mother's nightmare and their dad's dream come true. They're animals. And their father relishes in it. To be fair, I do find it rather endearing in the early stages of their morning wrestling match, it just escalates so quickly!
Cue the pictures:

Today as I watched their brawl, introspective thoughts cascaded my mind. First, what a great dad. I am so grateful they have these moments with him every day.  Second, I have THREE boys; three dirty, mischievous, tender-hearted boys. Third, in ten years, I will have three TEENAGE boys; I will have stinky, hungry, taller-than-me boys, that probably won't want to cuddle and tell me all about the best and worst parts of their day. They will probably just want pizza rolls and more Axe Body Spray or something like that.
I guess I don't really know.
What I do know is that this phase of little blond boys clamoring for their mama's attention has an expiration, and it is quickly creeping upon me. I am excited for their lives ahead of them, those boys have magnificant spirits. It is my role as their mother to stengthen them for the mountains they will be called to move.  This morning, my heart swelled with gratitude that I get to be a nurturing influence on their journey.
Then I got kicked in the face, and everyone got kicked out of the bed.  The get-ready-fast-because-we're-going-to-be-late-again morning routine throttled into high gear.
I thank God for the moment of perspective that inspired me to squeeze my boys a little tighter, and laugh with them over something silly a little longer.  I am grateful for the realization as we knelt down for morning prayer, that no matter what lies ahead; I am not alone in my work and God is watching over His boys.

Matthew's Blessing

November 1st, 2015.  

One year ago this day I found out I was pregnant. I was so scared. John and I both felt strong impressions that we needed to have another baby, but it was a big leap of faith. At the time our future was a complete blur of unkown. Not to mention, we had no idea how we would rise up to the challenge of four kids under six.  Our nerves soon turned to excitement as we began to anticipate all the special feelings a new baby would bring.  

One year later, I would have never guessed I would be where we are right now. Many of the uncertain aspects of our life are even more uncertain than they were when we decided to bring Matthew in this world. But one thing has remained a light and a joy in our life, and that is this little baby sent to us from Heaven.  I know, that sounds cheesy, but really- Matthew has been such a precious gift in our home.  Because of him, we have been able to focus in on what is most important in our lives: our family and our faith.  It is remarkable to me how God blesses us as we follow the promptings of the Holy Spirit.  A year ago, it was subtle, but it was sure. Our family needed Matthew. I thought I knew what that meant at the time, but a year later I realize I only understood a glimpse of what God had in store.  Matthew has been a beacon of hope and binding force in our family.

God's plan for his children is remarkable.

I am so glad we got bless this smiley baby yesterday!

He wore John's blessing outfit, which was special. He was particularly pleasant all day, it was as if he knew it was his special day.  

Typically, babies are held by all the men in the circle in a laying-down position, Matthew sat up the whole time, haha. I guess that is what happens when you wait until they are three months? He was just so curious!  My favorite part of his blessing was when John talked about how his happiness and faith will be a light to others. I hope I can provide a home that will foster his cheerful disposition. 

Here's our growing family!

Both mine and John's family came up for the blessing. It was so wonderful to have them all there to support us. I am grateful for the extended family my kids have to turn to for guidance and role models.

 After the blessing we headed back to our cinderblock paradise for some taco soup and pumpkin bars.

Johnny and my dad playing rock,paper, scissors.

The grandmas and Matthew.

Shaylee, Brittany, Becca

Becca and Matt

 It was such a beautiful day, and a perfect way to start a month dedicated to gratitude. 

I am so grateful to be this boy's mother.