Elsie loves to dance and spin and can melt your heart with her twirling

Easter Weekend

We had a fantastic Easter weekend graced by Brady's sister and her boyfriend Ben.  The kids made Easter eggs and found baskets Sunday morning with fairies, power rangers, and hollow chocolate bunnies in them.

                                   Liam drew this picture at church after a lesson on resurrection. I asked him if it was Jesus. He said "No, does Jesus have hair like that? No he doesn't. It's your Grandma Marilyn. She's in the graveyard, but still a little bit coming back from the dead." (That actually does look a little like grandma's wig)

The things I've never sufficiently thanked my parents for

I have more than I can count. They obviously include critical things like feeding, clothing, sheltering, and funding me for 18 years. But there are also lists upon lists of obnoxious things I imposed upon them over the years that I only become aware of after becoming an overworked parent myself.

Included is all the times we hounded my mom and dad until they took us to Chuckie Cheese. What goes around . . .

 It's sad that we aren't more grateful as kids, 'cause I would've done a lot less whining, thrown away less fruit from my lunch, and spent more time helping.  It's really too bad it takes being provoked to be really appreciative. There is something about sleepless nights taking care of your own ear-ached baby, enduring a few bouts of potty training, and combating the insanity of hyper kids at bedtime that makes you realize that parents are grossly under-thanked. So, if you read this mom or dad, thanks.

A Midwest Omen

I believe in omens. Not the creepy pagan kind, but the happy signs of good luck that unexpectedly peek at us here and there.  I'd define 'omens' as delightful moments that foreshadow prosperity.  I can never tell with these manifestations if it's heaven, 'fate,' or nature, but they seem like a gift all the same.  Omens can be something silly like seeing a rabbit on my way to run a marathon, a flower in my garden that goes rouge and blooms unseasonably early, or something substantial that provokes reflection.

Each St. Patrick's Day weekend I am reminded of an especially impactful omen. It took place exactly 6 years ago when a stranger on the airplane gave Brady and I a hundred dollar bill to buy a gift for our expectant baby. The value of this memory has little to do with the actual money and everything to do with the circumstances and the lessons learned.

We were living in Utah, on an airplane to visit East Lansing, Michigan. I wasn't sold on the idea of  the Midwest, it's windy, long winters, or moving to a place without a grad school option for me. We had an offer from a flashy Ivy League school in NYC, and Michigan State University, in the middle of no where, seemed a bit anti-climactic.  Still, we were excited about the changes to come with a new Phd program, a new place to live, and our first baby that was due in a month.

Scrunched with us on our plane row was a middle-aged Michigander with a thick brown mustache and a bit of a beer belly. As the plane began its descent he began telling us of his work as a volunteer fireman and his little kids that he missed dearly but rarely saw due to divorce. He told us about life in Michigan, happy things in store, and that he felt it would be a good home for us. He asked about the baby on the way. He told us how important kids were and how lucky we were- to have each other, to have this upcoming baby and the love he would bring into our lives. As we started grabbing our bags he handed a folded up bill to Brady and told us to take care of our little family.  Off the plane, when the man was out of sight, we unfolded the bill- it was $100.

It was humbling. We didn't know the man's name, only the town, Port Austin, he was from.  We meant to drive across the state to track him down, but we never did. One day I would like run into him again and tell him how much we appreciated his help. I would tell him our baby has grown into a kindergartner that is the absolute sunshine in our day. I would tell him with his money we bought a stroller that became our second car- taking me to the local bakery, to the park, to work.  I would tell him that although I haven't re-gifted his $100 yet, I will someday. 

I would love to tell this man and that his gesture came to represent what we loved most about Michigan- the warm people that took us under their wing, their old-fashioned, Midwestern, 'niceness.'  He was the first of many people to be kind to us in Michigan. We had a church congregation that was supportive. People from work and the community who made us feel valued. Babysitters and neighbors that treated us like grandkids.  If I see him again I will tell him his random kindness has not been forgotten, and yes, that he was a sign of our good luck. 

 

 Everyone likes to feel like they have places they belong, even 2 year olds.  Since Liam and dad both go to school all day she likes the thought that she too has a 'school.' Elsie comes to work with me once a week and goes to 'school' at the YMCA while I teach a class.  She eats snacks, colors pictures, and plays with a few kids. She helps me pack her own lunch in her pink princess lunch box and she is always a model citizen.  Afterwards we go to the pool and pretend to be mermaids hunting treasure -it's the most anticipated part of her week.

Liam's baby name suggestion of the week- Hunter.  More specifically, 'Wolf Hunter Firth.'

Liam's chain of unfortunate events

In response to "How was your day?" :

"First you put an uncomfortable belt on me right before I went to school
It was so tight that I couldn't get it off, even in an emergency
So when I went to the stand-up (urinal) I had to pull my pants down too far
Then 2 big kids came in and started to tease me cause they could see my bum
I didn't fight with them, I just gave them angry eye brows
Then after they left I accidentally peed in my eye
Then when I got back to class I realized my clothes were wet too
I had to tell my teacher
She had to find me new clothes.
Then I had 20 stuffy noses."

-The end.

 Some days are better than others. Regardless if you are navigating kindergarten or living in a serious adult world, there are times we all metaphorically pee in our eyes and get teased by big kids.  Other days, life is smooth & easy.

 Luckily it usually seems to even out in our favor.

Don't EVER tell a pregnant woman she's "about to pop."

Don't tell her she "got really big, really fast."
Don't stare at her stomach and tell her it's "probably about time that (she's) done working, huh?"
Don't tell her she should try yoga. 
Also, please, don't ask to draw a smiley face on her belly. ( Long story . . .)

My list could go on and on . . .

I threw up 130 days in a row this pregnancy. Then, BAM!!, I gained 30 lbs in 3 months (about a half pound every day and a half.) No, I didn't eat Oreos everyday or go hog-wild with Ben & Jerry's, and yes, I'm still exercising.  Yes, my doctor knows about it and isn't worried (she asserts that I look normal and healthy.)
And yes, I feel like my body/life has been hijacked.

Mom (while hugging Elsie) - "I love my little girl"
Elsie- " I love my huge mom"                

Mom- "Hang on while I get off this bunk bed, I'm getting kinda big."
Liam- "And fat and chubby?"
Mom- "Nope. I didn't say that."

I know I'm not at my peak but, come on guys, zip it.  I'm just over 7 months along.  Not close enough to be counting down the weeks but pregnant enough to feel it.  

 Everyday on our way to Liam's bus stop, Elsie stops her little red scooter and picks me a purple crocus by the side of the road.  She tells me to put it in my hair, so I tuck it be hind my ear. Then looking surprised she says, "Mom, you look beautiful!" I smile and she nods her head, and I can't wait 'til it happens tomorrow.

It's the little things that make life satisfying.