It's a tough job, but someone has to do it

If Memorial Day is any sort of indicator of what our summer is going to look like, we've got a fun couple of months ahead of us.

We splashed in the backyard pool. And not just a little bit...we're talking big splashes, down-the-slide-backwards splashes, leaping-in-with-two-feet-splashes...the kind of splashes that would make for really great pictures, if the kids weren't trying so hard to soak their parents.

Caleb finally discovered his love of the water. He's not quite as adventurous as his sister yet, but he's getting there. So while Caleb climbed in and out of the pool head first and up and down the slide, Justin occupied himself with teaching our 2.75-year-old how to go down the slide backwards and upside down while holding her feet in the air. These sort of make-mom-hold-her-breath-and-hope-for-the-best activities are right up her alley. I'm not sure what I'll do if Caleb ends up being as wild as she is, which he's well on his way to doing.

Abby swung super high on our backyard tree swing. And by super high, I mean so high that Justin had to fully extend his reach to touch the swing at its highest point. She got it in her head that she wanted to kick the leaves on the branch above her, and her dad was more than happy to try to help her meet her goal. I went inside and made pasta salad. It was too terrifying to watch.

Justin smoked some amazing ribs for dinner, and was so proud of how they turned out that he even shared some with our neighbor, just to establish once and for all who the real grillmaster on our street is.

And I took it easy. I propped my feet up by the kiddie pool and watched as my kids wore themselves out. Then I propped my feet up on the deck and watched as they wore their dad out. And when bedtime rolled around, we all crashed.

Days like this remind me why I have the best job in the world.

Waitin' On Critter: Week 16

It only took a week from the date of my last Critter post for me to finally admit defeat and pack away my entire pre-pregnancy closet. I'd forgotten how much I love stretchy waistbands and maternity tank tops from Old Navy. And now that it's finally warming up, and I'm finally expanding, I have a whole summer to enjoy them.

And in other news, we finally hit my favorite pregnancy milestone this week (besides the onset of labor, of course). After downing a little too much rich chocolate cake at a MOPS function last week, I felt the first little flutters of Critter's movement in my belly! The movements have picked up since then, and if I lay really still, Justin is even able to feel a few of them. It feels just like I recall with Abby and Caleb...as if a tiny little fish is flitting around in my belly. How appropriate.

Our little one is probably about the size of my fist now, probably 4-5 inches from crown to rump, and has the distinction this week of beginning to grow toenails. I was able to hear the baby's heartbeat this week at my check-up, and everything sounded good and is progressing as it should with this pregnancy.

We'll find out in mid-June whether this new one will be bunking with Caleb or Abby one day. Abby, as always, is still pleading for "a stister, please" while Caleb is insisting it's a "bruba."

Only time will tell...

Helping Hands

There's a small patch of dirt in our back yard that we've purposefully left untouched. Nothing is planted there, and no mulch will cover it. Because the kids love it. In our entire over sized backyard, they could play for hours in this little 2-foot-wide section of earth.

And now that we've added water to our repertoire of backyard fun, the kids are working together to make all sorts of new messes, and learning that there's no such thing as too much mud.

People watching

Apparently, you're never too young to sit out in front of your house watching cars go by and waving at neighbors.

Especially when there are homemade strawberry popsicles involved.

With the greatest of ease

Caleb (16 months old)

May 2010

Three things are certain at the beginning of our summers here:

1. Justin's company will host an awesome company picnic, complete with pony rides, hot dogs and all-you-can-eat soft serve ice cream.
2. They will rent this freaky fire breathing dragon moon bounce, which the kids will love.
3. We will toss our children high into the air, and they'll squeal with delight, no matter their ages.

Abby (8 months old)

May 2008

Nom nom nom

In actuality, our local strawberry farm is not an all-you-can-eat buffet. But try telling that to Caleb.

I counted at least 33 berries that went into his mouth straight off the vine, stem and all. That's just while I was looking. Occasionally I had to look away to pick some strawberries that could go home with us for later consumption, so there's really no telling how many berries he ate during our little outing.

When he'd managed to pick one section of a row of vines clean, he'd simply scoot down a few feet until he happened upon a new patch of berries. It was an efficient, low energy process that resulted in a constant and steady stream of strawberries into his tummy during the duration of our time at the field. I obviously don't have to worry about him surviving alone in the wild anymore.

And as if being set loose in a field of food wasn't enough, my little guy's dreams came true with a ride to and from the strawberry fields in a big noisy farm tractor. To say he had a pretty good morning would be an understatement. I have a feeling we could repeat this field trip every day and he'd never get bored.

Sweet relief

If Wendy's Frosties are the only thing she can swallow while she recovers from this awful virus, then I guess we'll be having Frosties for dinner.

And if the best way to deal with her crankiness is to let her wear her princess dress and her camo cadet cap to go get them, then so be it.

Caleb, meanwhile, is loving having a sickly sister. He's had more ice cream, smoothies and milkshakes in the past few days than I care to think about.

Sneak Attack

Since you weren't there, allow me to explain what happened next.

As Abby waited patiently atop the sedan for her brother to sit down, Caleb approached, unaware of his sister's ill intent.

She continued to peer through the sunroof, exhibiting a tremendous amount of patience for a 2 year old, as he maneuvered his chunky little body into the driver's seat and grabbed the steering wheel.

I managed one more blurry shot after this one, as Abby's foot landed on top of Caleb's head and she prepared to drop the entire weight of her body down onto her brother. I caught her by her bony little bottom just before he realized what was happening.

"What were you doing, Abby?" I asked in my mom voice. "You can hurt Caleb like that!"

"Sorry, Mommy," she replied. "I wanted to pounce him."

I'm beginning to notice a pattern with her.

Under the weather

We've joked for most of her young life about the how healthy Abby is. Our doctor calls her "the kid that lives in the immunity bubble."

I can count on three fingers the number of times she's thrown up, she somehow manages to dodge all the bugs that fly around during cold and flu season, and our pediatrician jokes about testing her to see if she has some sort of super-immune system that we can study to learn how to keep kids healthier. On the rare occasions we have to make a special trip to the doctor, it's always for something interesting...like the time she spiked the 104-degree fever but acted like nothing was wrong. Or the concussion incident. But I'd rather not talk about that.

So when I took Caleb in to the doctor to confirm a case of Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease that a friend was kind enough to share with us, the doctor again commented that I probably didn't have to worry about Abby coming down with it, what with the immunity bubble and all to protect her.

She was wrong.

Abby did indeed suffer the wrath of this horrible rash, and it wreaked havoc on her little body with high fevers, ulcers in her mouth and throat and blisters all over her little fingers and toes.

The first day she showed symptoms, I was in denial.

"Do you want to go play outside, Abby?" I asked.

"No," she replied, climbing onto the couch with a necklace in one hand and a book in the other. "I'll just lay here and wear these beads and read this book."

Caleb pushed through his bout of the virus, and but for some extra crankiness and what looked like a case of leprosy, he was mostly okay during the week or so that it took to run its course.

Abby is another story altogether. The epitome of pitiful, she sulks around the house, cringes each time she tries (unsuccessfully) to suck her thumb, and lives under a dark cloud of despair at mealtimes when she realizes her mouth hurts too much to eat.

We're quarantined until further notice. Justin and I are most likely safe from the virus, but I might come down with a serious case of the crazies if I have to be trapped in the house too much longer with these sick kiddos.

Lime in de coconut

So apparently, limes are not among his favorite fruits. And yet he insisted on continuing to try to eat the slice his dad offered him. I'd like to think this means he's developing a serious commitment to finishing what he starts.

Or maybe he's still working on learning that whole cause-and-effect thing.

As Is

Picture day at the ballet studio made me a little queasy, to say the least.

I understand wanting a good picture of the tiny dancers. I understand that you spend a little extra time getting ready and try to look your best when you're paying a pretty penny for that picture.

What I also understood, that most of the other moms there didn't, is that these are kids. Little girls, most of them under the age of 10, were running around dressed to the nines in their beautiful recital costumes with up-dos and full makeup. And Abby's Tiny Tots class of 2- and 3-year-olds was, sadly, no exception. They felt beautiful, and their eyes sparkled beneath layers of eye shadow and liner. Their lipsticked smiles were, for the most part, comical, and the rouge on their cheeks left many of them looking like miniature drag queens.

I felt a little sick to my stomach as I watched a veteran dance mom chastise her 7-year-old for making her little sister cry, causing her mascara to run and leaving the frazzled mother with only three minutes to reapply her makeup before pictures.

My heart sank as one by one the precious, beautiful little girls in Abby's class showed up under masks of makeup that would be perfect for prom, but seemed out of place on the flawless face of a toddler.

As the girls stood in line waiting to go into the studio for the group picture, I wondered for a second if I shouldn't perhaps put a little clear gloss on Abby's lips. She suddenly seemed so out of place among her group of dance buddies as I watched all of their moms busily smudging eye liner and reapplying lipstick.

But my senses returned to me quickly enough, and I realized that I was falling victim to the same peer pressure that I hope to teach my kids to ignore. Just because all the other moms had jumped off the bridge and into a giant sea of blush and shadow didn't mean I had to. I quickly reminded myself that my daughter is only two and a half. She has a natural beauty that needs no enhancement, and that I will not hide behind lip gloss and mascara.

But besides her physical beauty, she has an innate beauty that belongs to every human. She is beautiful, inside and out, because she is made in the image of God. If she wants to wear make up when she is (much) older, I'll teach her how to apply it properly and in moderation. But until that day comes, I have some precious time on my hands to teach her where her real beauty lies.

This real beauty can't be bought at the makeup counter and can't be applied with the right brush and a steady hand. Her real beauty is in who she is, and in who she is becoming. True beauty is not merely skin deep. True beauty comes from the heart that loves and serves the Author of beauty Himself, the Lord who created us in His image, redeemed us by His blood and clothes us in righteousness. This is the beauty I want my children to seek after. This is the beauty I want to model for them.

Even on picture day.

What Mother's Day is not

I realized something this year. There's no such thing as a "day off" for moms. Try as it might, even the almighty Hallmark can't make that happen. And I'm okay with that.

Day in and day out, whether the kids are on my lap, in the next room or six time zones away, that motherly instinct that kicked in the first time I saw a positive pregnancy test will simply not let my brain rest. Like a CD stuck on repeat, the soundtrack of my life is always playing in the background. There are tracks for basic necessities (Do we have any food for dinner?), for medical concerns (Where did that big bruise come from?), for family harmony (Who started that fight?), for emergencies (Can you hold it until we get home?), for unsolved mysteries (Where did they put their sneakers?), and occasionally even for personal matters (Did I eat lunch today?).

A day off, piping hot breakfast in bed and perfectly clean children that mind their manners and stay out of your hair all day is hardly a realistic expectation for a day called "Mother's Day." If being a mom was merely an occupation, perhaps you could take a personal day, clear your mind of all concern for the well-being of others and be a little selfish for a little while. But being a mom isn't a job, it's a calling.

What I've come to realize is that whether you're a stay-at-home mom, a working mom, a mom on vacation with or without the kids, an expectant mom, a mom whose kids have left the nest, a mom of many or a mom who's experienced loss, "Mom" is so much more something you do on a daily basis. It's a lifestyle. It's a personality. It's a responsibility that doesn't go away.

Sure, I'd love a break as much as the next gal. But I love my job. I wouldn't trade my responsibility for these kids for anything in the world. The cards were great, the flowers are beautiful, and I enjoyed my time to myself to go shopping for some clothes with stretchy waistbands. But for now, as long as my husband continues to go to work each day to support me staying home with the kids, and as long as my kids need me to kiss boo boos and wipe noses and snuggle when they wake up from their naps, every day is Mother's Day.

Ready for take-off

What's the coolest thing about having grandpas that fly airplanes for a living?

Being the kids in the cool Captain's hats that get private tours of private jets when Granddaddy flies someone important to an airport near you.

Caleb loved running up and down the aisle during his time on the Cessna citation, and Abby couldn't have been more delighted when Granddaddy turned the plane on and she got to see the instrument panel light up and move the flaps. Both kids had a blast wandering around the tarmac and touching the airplanes.

Abby was none too pleased when our tour ended. "I want to fly!" she wailed as we dragged her out of the cockpit.

Some kids play house, or war, or hide and seek.

Mine go home and play airplanes.

Just hangin' around

I didn't catch the most dramatic moment of the day. That would have been the moment that shortly followed this one, the moment where she figured out how to hoist herself up a little further, giving her just the right amount of leverage to do a complete backwards flip while hanging from this railing.

I missed it, because being the good mom that I am, I set the camera down and walked over to spot her and prevent any unnecessary head trauma. I think the other moms in the area expected me to get her down before she finished her 360-degree reverse rotation. But what would have been the fun in that?

Lowrider don't drive too fast

It's yard sale season, and I'm already naming this my official best buy of the summer.

It set me back a whole $2, but now my kids can travel from one end of the backyard to the other in style...sedan style, complete with wood paneling, a built-in car phone and plenty of trunk space for hauling sticks, rocks and little brothers.

Abby discovered pretty quickly that the radio doesn't actually work, so she just sings really loud instead. When Caleb lets her in the driver's seat, that is.