{An Imperfect Adventure}

Every kid needs an adventure. Parents, too. So, after school today, instead of going straight home to do homework and start dinner, we fled to the hiking trails of a nearby state park.    

We bounced along trails. We climbed over huge logs. We shimmied closer to ponds to see frogs and fish and floating leaves. We found walking sticks, then picked up even big walking sticks. We hiked and hiked, letting the colors tagged on trees guide our way.

Sound perfect? How about I share a few conversations on the trail and you can be the  judge if it was a perfect day (or if I am even fit for parenting)? Okay, go.

..........

Tuck: This walking stick is giving my penis a massage.

Mom: Excuse me?

Tuck: A penis massage.

Mom: Quit riding it like a broom. It's a walking stick. USE IT RIGHT!

..........

Cooper: We've been walking for a long time. We might be lost.

Mom: We're not lost. These trails are just long and we've been changing trails. We have to keep going forward to get back.

Cooper: I think we're lost.

Mom: We're fine. Just keep walking.

Cooper: WE'RE GOING TO DIE OUT HERE! (He starts crying).

........

Mom: Stop hitting me with your walking stick, Tuck.

Tuck: Oh, sorry, Mom. (Hits me again).

Mom: If that walking stick hits me one more time, I am going to get very angry.

Tuck: Okay, okay. Jeez! You're going to have to get a lot tougher if you want to stay on this adventure.

.......

Cooper: We made it off the trail. Finally! Hey, I don't see our car.

Mom: Oh, crap. We must have come out on a different trail in a different parking lot. I wonder where our parking lot is?

Cooper: Do you even know where we are? (very accusing tone). It's almost dark. 

Mom: Hey, I see a car at the top of the parking lot. It looks like someone is in there. Let's go see if she can help.

Cooper: Tell me we're not getting a car with a stranger. 

..........

Mom: Thanks so much for giving us a ride. Sorry to interrupt your evening.

Nancy (the stranger): No problem. It's a great day for a hike. You're a few miles from your parking lot though. Glad I was here. It's almost dark.

Cooper: Hey, Mom, look at this. It's a vibrating back massager and it works.

Mom: (in an aggressive whisper) Cooper, put that down right now. I mean it!

Cooper: It's got three speeds. It can fly like a spaceship.

Mom: Thanks again for the ride. Did I mention how much we appreciate it?

...........

So, that's it. The adventure. Tomorrow we might go back to doing homework and getting dinner ready, but for today we just enjoyed the sunshine and each other. I'm thankful.

The Parenting Wilderness

It's been a good day. I can't say that's true of all my days in this parenting wilderness, but today I felt like I gave something great of myself---quality time. As Alana Chernila said, "I may not always be the mother I want to be, but I am theirs, and that is enough." Oh, how I hope that's true. Here was our morning adventure:

Pappaw Feeler showing us how to look for mushrooms in the forest. Kind of tricky, but we learned that mushrooms love ash trees. We didn't find any mushrooms, unfortunately, but we did learn how to pick off lots of ticks on our clothes.

Cooper and Tuck were all smiles on our outdoor adventure. I know how much nature lights up my spirit. I forget it does the same for my boys.

Another morning lesson---some plants are edible and taste like bitter lemons. Kids find this fascinating and will eat them until they feel sick. I call this photo "Tuck and his edible bouquet."

Next on the agenda was fishing in Pappaw's pond, except you have to find worms first. A dream come true for kids. We found lots of worms and then we even caught lots of fish! I was giddy, especially since I've never caught a fish before. For a moment, with all my new outdoor skills, I thought about making that commune idea a reality, but it was short lived. Turns out, cleaning fish is not my cup of tea. It's done and tomorrow we will have a fish fry for Easter. What a celebration!

I hope that each day with your kids can be a celebration. It's tough in this stressful world. I'm trying to let go of some of my guilt of not being the perfect parent and just rejoice that I'm present with my kids, even the big ole' bumbling mess that I am. I'm here and I love them. Good enough.

P.S. Plus, now I'm a super fisher woman. I think that adds a little something to my parenting prowess, don't you think? Yeah, me, too. Go me, go me, go me!!

{Jaws, the Jumping Turtle}

I live in a crazy house. It's full of noise and mess and pure chaos. Those are just the good days, my friends. Mostly, it's a whirlwind. Boys, 5 (including the turtle). Girls, 1 (me).

Of all the boys, our African side-neck turtle, Jaws, is the most well behaved. He lives in a large tank in the kid's room, complete with lots of water to swim and big rocks to sun himself by his heat lamp. He is always smiling (well, it's also the type of turtle he is, but I like to think it's because he is really happy). He is safe behind the glass walls of his tank.

Not anymore. Jaws has been tank jumping, all the way down to the hard wooden floor. Twice this week in fact. He's survived both times, I'm elated to say, but I'm wondering how he finds the power to push through his lid and then take a flying leap. This last time, I started to wonder if maybe our house is just too much for the little guy. Could it be, well, too chaotic?

I felt that way tonight. I got home late from a work meeting to find things in usual disarray--dishes piled high, the dog chewing tiny soldiers, homework spread everywhere (but not done), dirty socks under the coffee table and on TOP of the kitchen table, and everybody needing help with something immediately. A hundred things in a hundred different directions. It's a struggle. A struggle for patience, for getting it all done. A struggle to slow down and enjoy it like everyone says you should. Mainly, I'm just struggling to stay on top of being a good mom. I feel like I'm failing. Miserably.

I snuck upstairs tonight, almost an hour before bedtime, because I couldn't take anymore. Yes, I did. I hid from my kids....in my own house. And although I didn't carry up the bottle of wine (which crossed my mind, believe me!), I did leave the "wild man" zoo downstairs for calm alone time. I sacrificed quality time with my kids for quiet time with myself. Slight guilt, but I can also feel the rational me starting to come back in to focus.

To make amends, I squeezed my kids extra tight at bedtime and smacked lots of kisses on their sweet faces. I hope, I really hope, my suffocating love can make up for all my mistakes, including hiding away tonight. Do you think there's lots of wiggle room in parenting for all the imperfection? Please let the answer be yes.

Oh, and the turtle? Well, I checked on him tonight before turning out their light. He wouldn't even look my way, the sneaky bastard. I know he's planning another escape, but I can hardly blame him, I guess. I know exactly how he feels in all this chaos.

The Gross Naked Truth

At the dinner table tonight, my 4-year-old announces that I look gross naked. He then erupts into a fit of laughter. My husband doesn't laugh out loud, mainly because he values his life and this is the second time this subject has come up this week, but he does ask him to elaborate.

"Why does Mommy look gross naked?," my husband asks.

I lean in to hear the answer, too. I mean it's not everyday someone feels confident enough to comment on your body at the dinner table.

"The bumps on her stomach are super gross (pronounced GWOS)," he says.

"Belly button?" No. "Mosquito bites?" No. He then points to his nipples. I gasp at the table. He is talking about my boobs.

"Are you talking about my boobs," I shout. "They are NOT bumps, they're boobs, a lot bigger than bumps, and all girls have them!"

"Not little girls, they don't have them," he says confidently.

"No, but big girls have them and they're not gross," I confirm.

"What about sisters? Do sisters have them?" he asks, wide-eyed and, oh, so innocent.

"Is the sister younger or older?" I counter.

"Older sister."

"Yeah, an older sister probably has them," I say.

"My Mommy looks gross naked, my mommy looks gross naked," he chants between laughs, taking the conversation full circle.

"Enough about Mommy being gross naked," my husband finally says, intervening. "Finish your dinner!"

This is our conversation at the dinner table. This is my life. I am defending my body, and its grossness factor, to a 4-year-old (and not very well, I might add). It only affirms the obvious, folks. I have no idea what I'm doing as a parent. Not a clue. Even my explanations about the world and how it works, comes out a little skewed, which leads me to believe therapy in the future is a given.

On the bright side, I do show up every day as a parent (usually dressed, in case you're wondering for the story referenced above) ready to tackle the world for my boys. I might not be perfect, but I am present. There's got to be some good in that, right? I've also still got my sense of humor, which is a good thing, because, apparently, I look really gross naked. Hee. Hee.

Snow Day

It's been awhile since I've written, but it's not because I don't love you. It's just that my life has been, well, so hectic lately. I thought maybe the new year would bring a slower pace, but I haven't been active in weeding out anything in my life. In fact, I've added a few more things, including turning another year older.

With the impending storm of the century, I left work early this afternoon to pick up kids and get home safely before the roads got rough. The boys and I snuggled on the couch, munched Boy Scout popcorn and watched Karate Kid. We had a tickle war, did some kung fu fighting, and then had a dance off during the credits of the movie. It was one stellar afternoon.

School had already been cancelled for tomorrow. If we get enough snow, work might be cancelled for me, too. The giddy feeling in my heart has suddenly returned like I'm a kid again and about to dust off the snow boots and sled. There is no plan for the day, no place to be at a certain time, just the idea of a grand adventure. The kids get all of me, whole and happy, and I get to take back a few hours of my life. There is so much good in that.

So if I see you on the snow sledding hill tomorrow, you'll know it's me by the hysterical laughter and contagious joy of an unexpected slow down day. Last one down the hill is a rotten egg. COWABUNGA, dude!

Raising Clark Kent

It's official. I will not be getting the mother-of-the-year award this year. I knew I might be out of the running when my first grader failed his vision test with the school nurse last week, but I was still kind of hopeful, you know. All hopes went right out the window when he couldn't identify any of the letters on the screen at the eye doctor. I mean, seriously. What kind of mother doesn't know her child sees a fuzzy world?

Cooper and I picked out some eye glasses that same afternoon. I liked the wire-rimmed glasses, but he had his heart set on the thicker brown ones. He is such a little guy, so almost every pair looked sweet. When I said the brown ones made him look just like Clark Kent right before he turns into Superman, the deal was sealed. Cooper "Clark Kent" Feeler had his first pair of readers on order.

The first seed of doubt started to creep in when I relayed the story to my husband. He could not believe I let our son have the final say on glasses. A bad choice in glasses could be devastating, he said. Then he relayed his own personal tale of picking out blue-tinted lenses for his red-rimmed glasses in elementary school. He never did recover. I started to panic. Forget the guilt of your kid not seeing. The possibility of my kid being picked on raised my anxious mother meter to a whole new level.

Had I, like my husband claimed, been looking at him through warm mother's eyes versus the critical lenses of cruel kids on the playground? Would he be teased for not only wearing glasses, but for our choice of thicker rims that are common in every newsroom around the country? Is there no place for a unique "super hero" in this world?

Cooper wore his glasses for the first time tonight. Holy smokes, he said, everything looks so huge. He was giddy. I just kept staring at him all night because he looks so different. It's the same crooked smile and bright eyes alright, but the glasses change his whole look. I keep wondering what the kids will say tomorrow at school. Will his world dip down because of what he looks like instead of rising up because he can finally see the beauty in the world?

My hope is that his independence in choosing for himself will override the small hurts that will inevitably come his way. Life is not always kind, but it can still be good. I also pray he can survive a mother that is clueless about mothering, but still loves him unabashedly and unconditionally. There's no perfection in this mother. Isn't that right, Clark Kent?