One of the many gifts

There are many many gifts to being a mother- where is one to start? I will begin with this one, my most recent gift from Sam.What is it you ask? A glass of chocolate milk, stuffed with toilet paper and then frozen solid. Yep- just one of the many gifts of being a mother.

Totally copying................

I literally just copied and pasted this from another blog- but it is powerful and moving so I hope that they will not mind that I am totally copying...............

'MEET ME IN THE STAIRWELL'
You say you will never forget where you were when You heard the news On September 11, 2001. Neither will I. I was on the 110th floor in a smoke filled room With a man who called his wife to say 'Good-Bye.' I Held his fingers steady as he dialed. I gave him the Peace to say, 'Honey, I am not going to make it, but it Is OK..I am ready to go.'

I was with his wife when he called as she fed Breakfast to their children. I held her up as she Tried to understand his words and as she realized He wasn't coming home that night.

I was in the stairwell of the 23rd floor when a Woman cried out to Me for help. 'I have been Knocking on the door of your heart for 50 years!' I said. 'Of course I will show you the way home - only Believe in Me now.'

I was at the base of the building with the Priest Ministering to the injured and devastated souls. I took him home to tend to his Flock in Heaven. He Heard my voice and answered.

I was on all four of those planes, in every seat, With every prayer. I was with the crew as they Were overtaken. I was in the very hearts of the Believers there, comforting and assuring them that their Faith has saved them.

I was in Texas , Virginia , California , Michigan , Afghanistan . I was standing next to you when you heard the terrible news. Did you sense Me?

I want you to know that I saw every face. I knew Every name - though not all know Me. Some met Me For the first time on the 86th floor. Some sought Me with their last breath. Some couldn't hear Me calling to them through the Smoke and flames; 'Come to Me... This way... Take My hand.' Some chose, for the final time, to ignore Me. But, I was there.I did not place you in the Tower that day. You May not know why, but I do. However, if you were There in that explosive moment in time, would you have Reached for Me?

Sept. 11, 2001, was not the end of the journey For you . But someday your journey will end. And I Will be there for you as well. Seek Me now while I may Be found. Then, at any moment, you know you are 'ready to go.' I will be in the stairwell of your final moments.

God

I remember waking that morning, turning on the news, and clinging to my then little Allyson as I wondered what would happen next. And I remember running to the grocery with my mom, purchasing powdered milk because that is what felt like the right thing to do. And crying, for all that was lost and damaged that day.

The end of my era...........moving on to the next chapter

So I am noticing something strange. It has to do with my hair, and grey. I have yet to notice grey hairs in my actual hair though- one of the benefits of being kind of blond. I'm sure they are there, but they just don't show. So where are the grey hairs popping up? In my eyebrows.

The first time I noticed one I thought to myself "self- how strange is that- an all white hair. cool". The second time, it hit me. This was not a fluke, it was the grey hair sneaking in. Now I find them kind of regular, and of course I grab a hold of those bad boys and yank them out. Tell your friends to stay home mr. grey hairs- they won't stand a chance here! Until there are more grey than brown- I suppose then I will have a choice to make. Grey eyebrows or no eyebrows??? What's a girl to do.

I've never been one to worry about getting older. I considered by late 20's and 30's to be my prime. In fact, I always really looked forward to that age period. But right now, for some reason, I suppose I am having some anxiety about my age. Probably has to do with a conversation my husband and I had over the weekend.

He brought up getting a vasectomy- BEFORE THE END OF THE YEAR. Now let's get this straight, I have more than likely birthed my last child. Sam is getting a bit more independent, we're dang near done with diapers (we're down to just at night time : ), meal time is becoming easier, all 3 are now in some form of school, and I get to sleep through the night almost every.single.night. I can see the light at the end of this tunnel (this laundry filled, dirty dish stacked, stained up carpet tunnel). Probably, for all sensible reasons, we are not having any more children.

But see- it's all I've ever really looked forward to me in life. Growing up and having babies. I have no plan for what comes after that. So to slam that giant iron door shut with something so permanent, like a vasectomy, it just way way way more than I can embrace right now.

So I mentioned to Dan that although we will probably will never bring forth a new life through this womb, that I wasn't ready to take such a huge and final step. To which he responded "Mynde, you will be 35 this year"- just like that- like it was the end of my youth coming to a rapid head. It had never occurred to me before that I ever will be too old to have another baby. But in his mind- I suppose I already am.

I couldn't help but to weep the entire rest of the day. Butt head husband and his hurtful conversation.

So I wonder what will become of me. My grey eyebrow having, aging womb, on the verge of 35 self. What will I do with the rest of my life- now that my entire life goal has been reached? Not that I don't look forward to raising these youngins we've been blessed with and seeing where their life will land them. I realize that the world is not coming to an end, and that my job here is not done (after all- who would fill out all the school forms?). I just wonder what my next goal will be, that's all. Seriously- all I ever wanted to do was grow up and have babies (besides that whole singing waitress school teacher thing, that never came to fruition). And now I've had three, and probably will not have another, now what? Pottery, knitting, some kind of club, saving the planet? Time will tell. I just have to find a way to embrace it.

Is this a midlife crisis????????? If so- tell me now. I could go for a two seater convertible!

Bam!

Sam wakes up with a bang. Every.Dang.Day. There is no 'gently awaken and welcome the day' with this boy. His feet hit the floor before his eyes open and he is ready for whatever the world has to offer him. Emily, Allyson and I, on the other hand, wake slowly and gently. We all like to lay in bed for a bit before stumbling from the bed. But I no longer get to do that with Sam, he demands for me to hop up immediately and start our day- which is a struggle.

Yesterday morning, by 9:30 am, he was outside playing with the neighbor kids. To which I had to ask Dan to head out there to supervise as I got ready to leave for work. He was thrilled I tell ya.

By the time I went out to get in my car my neighbor was holding an ice pack on her head and Sam was crying hysterically- declaring that it was an accident and he didn't mean to.

My heart nearly stopped.

Turns out, our neighbor allowed Sam to join in their game of baseball. After pitching the ball to Sam, he managed to hit a line drive- right to her eye. She hit her knees, crying from the pain in her head as her eye began to swell- instantly.

Guess he probably won't be invited to any more of their front yard ball games.

Nickeled and Dimed to DEATH

There is one true indicator, besides the new sneakers and the school bus each morning, that signifies school is back in session............my empty checkbook.

I am all for helping the school to have what it needs to do their job. Afterall, I believe that the job they are doing is one of the most important jobs in the world. I believe special tutors are necessary, teachers aides fill a special and significant role, and activities in school build character. That being said, let me add that I AM DYING OVER HERE.

First- we forked it up for book rental (X 2 this year). And the school supply list. And a new back pack. And then shoes. Granted, shoes was optional and something we just chose to do. The school didn't tell us to. But they can't go barefoot, or can they?

Then- we received the 'extra' list. It said kind words like, for those who are able and if you would like to. They needed things like sanitizing wipes, zip locks, etc. So we did, because we were able to and would like to.

And- now we got the third 'extra' list. It thanked those of us who contributed to the second list, and asked for other stuff like extra markers and rice for the play table.

Kindness Corner- please take a slip and donate the listed item to help our room. Not a big deal, but another $4 or so.

Not to mention- they sent home, the second week of school, an overpriced ($10 higher than last year) coupon book for us to purchase and sell. So that we can pay for a reading tutor. $30 per book people- ridiculous in my opinion (the price, not the reading tutor).

In addition- the neighborhood kids are banging down the door with their sausages and wrapping paper. $10 here, $12 there.

Due next week- each 4th grader needs to send in $4.50 for their annual magazine subscription.

Guess What- field trip, be sure and send in your permission slip and your money.

School Phone Books- only $3 each due now.

Don't forget- registrations for all the after school activities- soccer, choir, clubs.

Smile- picture day is coming up, be sure to reserve your $543 package today.

Your account is low- please send in more lunch money.

Allow me to introduce myself- I'm your room mom, pay $10 and don't pass go.

Mark your calendar- PTO is sponsoring a skating party.

Pick Pick Pick Pick Pick Pick Pick.

All in all, none of this is going to break the bank but DANG PEOPLE. Hang it up, we are dying over here! We've only been in school for 2 weeks and I have written more checks to the elementary this year than I write to the electric company in a whole year. I consider Dan and I to be a fairly normal family (not tons of money but we do okay), and what it feels like is that we are being ambushed from every direction.

I remember Allyson's first year in preschool- I was so disappointed that there wasn't a 'supply list'. All we needed to send was a backpack. I was bummed, how I longed to take her shopping. Now I am singing the praises of preschool. I just fork over $60 a month and provide my blonde boy with a backpack strapped to him and the rest is all taken care of. Not to mention, when they do ask for us to fill the snack bucket, we are allowed to home make the items.

At the elementary, everything has to be store bought and prepared. Nothing from home. Which basically boils down to paying 400X per cupcake what it would cost me to slap them together in my kitchen.

Notice to the school- the well has run dry. You can stop now.

A growing problem

Sam was on a rampage yesterday. Some days are like that for him. He's either into EVERYTHING or he behaves beautifully. I promise you, I never had days like I have with him when the girls were little. They were just different. He is mischevious and into something all the time. This is one phase, the omigoshwheretheheckissamandwhyishesoquiet phase, that I will be more than happy to put behind us.

Yesterday alone, he managed to:

Paint the hall bathroom with water and a toilet brush (can you say disinfectant time?)

Take all of the DVD's we own out of their cases

Pour 1/2 a bottle of kids shampoo out into the bathtub

Use a pair of kid scissors to cut a GIANT HOLE out of emily's favorite pink chair (while I was sitting right in the same room with him- how did I miss this?) I then, with a crying emily, got to try my hand at sewing it back together.

Unroll an almost entire roll of florist tape and drape it from the stairs

Then- this morning while trying to hurry and get Allyson ready for school and hunt down her missing sneaker- we discovered where he sat in the living room and unlaced the whole dag gone thing! Nothing like trying to quickly relace a high top shoe in a huge hurry not to miss the bus!

I know what you are thinking, he needs toys. Trust me, we own them- tons and tons of toys. He plays with them too, sometimes. And a beating you say? Yeah, I beginning to think so too.

He is just constantly into something, it seems like. He's driving me to insanity. INSANITY I tell you. Promise me that you will visit me in the psych ward, oh small blonde boy, as I would seriously miss you (but not your messes).

RED ALERT!

Trust me, this is reason for panic at our house.