A Spring Break Update

Sorry I’ve been scarce around here this week. It’s spring break, and we’ve been breaking. We took the kids to Six Flags yesterday, and it seems that we had the same idea as everyone else in the state. Walking around the park on one of the first really warm days of the spring, I was once again reminded that I don’t understand fashion. Everyone was strutting around in their weird outfits that made no sense, and all I was thinking was that this is what they’re going to expect us to wear this summer. I suppose this is how you become an old lady. I think I’m there, friends.

The whole time we were gone I was thinking about how lonely our cat must be.  I am suddenly one of those people who worries about my cat’s feelings.  Yet another sign that I’m old.  I may as well go ahead and sign up for the cheese of the month club or find myself a bingo hall.

Today I went to lunch with my best friend, whom I haven’t seen since last summer, and I got a glimpse inside her purse.  Can I tell you that it was a glorious and beautiful sight?  Lots of useful things tucked neatly into their places, no trash, no cap-less pens or half-eaten suckers, no old receipts or broken crayons.  I knew that mom purses like hers were rumored to exist, but I always thought they were more of an urban legend than anything.  And, my trash-filled purse sagged over there uselessly, filled with nothing that I need and everything I don’t want to dig through just to find my lipstick.

If you’re interested in what kind of deep thoughts I’ve been thinking lately, here’s one for you:  What do you call a fish with no eye?  A fsh.  Get it?  No I?????  I learned that little gem from my niece tonight.  As you can tell, spring break has been all about solving the problems of the world and/or figuring out how close I am getting to old lady status.

Plus, the neatly organized mom purse sighting.  Rare and wonderful, and I didn’t even get a picture.

Some people spend spring break on the beach.  I’m glad to spend it with the people I love,  listening to hyped up kid cousins sing at the top of their lungs in a living room crammed with happy people, piling onto a roller coaster on a sunny day, talking to a friend over a plate of food that would make Jenny Craig weep.  It’s been a much needed break.  And God is in it all.

He gives lots of gifts.  Spring break is one of my favorites.

 

 

 

 

A Prayer for My Children

Kids, you are growing up in a different world than I grew up in.  Your lives will always be lived in front of an audience.  Already the cute things you say and do end up on my Facebook page, and my friends press “like” or leave nice comments.  Your pictures are already on the internet, where lots of people look at you and comment on how much you’re growing or how much you look like your daddy.  I have to admit, I enjoy having a place to share you with my little world of friends and family.

But, I try very hard not to let the display of our lives on the internet invade the secret moments of our life together.  We can all laugh about something hilarious that Sawyer says, but I promise I won’t reveal things about you that the world doesn’t need to know.  There are special, sacred moments of our life that belong only to us.

Remember this, kids.  Remember that some moments in your life are not for the audience.  Some sweet, tender, special times are just for you and the people you are closest to.  You see, we all have to fight the urge to let the audience in on what is precious.  But, we must fight that urge.  Because some things deserve privacy.  Some stories should not be told, just experienced.  Some moments are ruined when you let the world in on them.

So, my prayer for you, my beautiful children, is that you will recognize what in your life is appropriate for the audience and what is not.  And when you are husbands and wives and parents, I pray that you will not let the audience dictate how you live a single day of your life.  Not all days are for audience-worthy arts and crafts or homemade soap or your latest culinary delight.  Some days are for lying on a blanket in the backyard with your kids, soaking in the sunshine and giggling until your sides hurt.  And some days are for trying your hardest to safely store away in your mind’s eye the expression on your child’s face when he finally learns to stay up on his bike.  And those kinds of days, dear children, are not days for the audience.  They are days that only you can see the depth and the greatness of.

And it’s okay not to share those moments with the world.

Sometimes I fear that our families are losing their sacred moments to an audience that really doesn’t care.  So, share pictures, kids.  Share stories.  Let your friends in on the successes and failures of your day.  But, don’t forget to reserve some special experiences as your own, not to be shared or commented on or “liked.”  Just to be experienced.  Lived.  And enjoyed without reservation or an audience-driven motive.

I have no doubt you will navigate these tricky waters well, my babies.  I hope that I can be a good example to you by providing plenty of sacred moments that are ours alone.  I love you all so very much.

The Almost Campout

Tonight Chad had the great idea to set up Sawyer’s Winnie the Pooh tent in the backyard for a family movie night outside.  We got a pizza, rented a movie, and all five of us piled into a child-sized tent in the backyard to eat, watch a Christmas movie, and have a drawing contest.  We had to cram ourselves in there like puzzle pieces:  Whose legs are going here?  Wait, where are you going to put your legs?  Who has the baby’s bottle?  Can you see?  Move your head, Sawyer!  Okay, is everybody comfortable?  Wait, I need to use the bathroom! It was hilarious and so fun!

By the end of the movie, when we all busted out of the tiny tent, if anyone was watching I’m sure it was comical. We were something like clowns popping out of a mini car–the little ones came first, then bigger and bigger people stumbled out.  We were pretty hot and somewhat claustrophobic by that time, and coming back into our house we felt like we were entering the Taj Mahal.

There was something so special, though, about an evening spent physically touching every single person in our family AT THE SAME TIME.  I found myself watching the kids as much as I watched the movie.  They were having the time of their lives.  Even little  Emerald had fun pulling everyone’s hair, getting unprecedented access to each of us.  She made the rounds over and over, moving from person to person in her almost-crawling way, touching faces and accidentally tickling the kids, much to their delight.  Sawyer kept getting the giggles, so excited that his whole family was right there in his tent.   Adelade  paused several times in her pizza eating to describe how weird it felt to eat after losing another tooth yesterday.  And while the movie played she hid her eyes when things got a little too exciting.

It was a sweet, sweaty, squirmy, squished experience.  In another year I doubt the five of us will be able to get into that tent.  Tonight I’m thankful for little.  Little tents, little kids, and the little things that keep little families together.