Perfect Moment

I was reading a blog today and it got me thinking about something that I’ve pondered many times in the past: Are we ever truly happy? The writer wrote about not recognizing the person she saw in the mirror after two children. I understand that completely. Stretch marks weren’t even in my vocabulary until I had children. I don’t even notice them nine months of the year since they are undercover, but when swimsuit season rolls around, there they are. Did you know they don’t tan? At all? I didn’t! Thank goodness for Nivea’s Sun Kissed Radiant lotion or they’d be even more noticeable.




Anyhow, the purpose of my post isn’t to lament my body. I consider myself pretty blessed with the Juillerat genes that mean I can consume a Snickers and Dr Pepper daily and still lose weight. What I’m concerned with is happiness. Are we ever happy? And if we are, how do we know it? I’m guilty of trying to cram too much into my day. I find myself going at Energizer Rabbit Speed (ERS) trying to do every little thing and meet every little demand that I believe needs my attention. I think that’s the Type A multi-tasking mom in me.


Don’t get me wrong, I love my full life and wouldn’t trade it, but some days I have to stop and remind myself that I need to find the happiness in the chore I’m doing. I think that’s what a lot of people forget to do. They get so sucked into the vast land of negative, that they forget to count their blessings. Like last week, I didn’t want to go walk because that meant I couldn’t read my new book or take a nap. Some priorities I have! Still, I plowed on and did it anyway. What was the happiness I derived? I got to enjoy an hour with a good friend in the sunshine at a lovely park I'd never been to. Granted, the realist in me recognizes that some days it is hard to find the happiness in a task. Who really likes cleaning a litter box? You’d have to be delusional to actually like clean up after a cat, dog, child, husband, chimp, you get the idea.


To make sure I'm not taking my own happiness for granted, I do this thing with the boys that they’ve started doing on their own recently. It is called Perfect Moment. The idea is, sometimes we have moments that are just so perfect and filled with contentment and happiness that we don’t want them to escape us. We stop whatever we are doing and say we’ve found a Perfect Moment and say why it qualifies. Owen had one the other day when he found Gav curled up asleep and in his words “looking so sweet- just like he did when he was a baby.” I’ve had them on days like last Thursday when I was writing while sitting outside, listening to the boys chatter about Star Wars and the birds chirping. There was a cool breeze and well, the moment was just perfect. It is one of those moments I could stay in for a while and I’m glad I stopped typing long enough to recognize it.

I wish we could all take time to slow down in life to actually see what is in front of us.  I hope my children continue to relish in the moment and to be the happy guys they are now.  I hope they remember a smile and laughter are infectious and that we can be truly happy if we stop and remember happiness is a perfect moment and you have to recognize it when you see it.  It may be gone before you know it.

Father's Day

Every now and then I wonder if firstborn children are all like Owen. He could be a spokesperson for a safety precaution campaign. Don't get me wrong, I am glad he's cautious, but sometimes I wish he'd trust us more.  If we say something it safe, I'd like him to believe us.  I also wonder if our hovering nature as he was our first baby caused him to be that way. Was it because of the plastic doohickeys we put in the outlets to make sure he didn’t electrocute himself? Was it because we put a side rail on his first big kid bed, a full size that he took up roughly three square feet of and never moved an inch once he was kissed good night? Whatever it was, once Owen makes his mind up about something, it takes forever to convince him he might be missing out or underestimating his abilities.


Last summer, Owen was as excited as any kid to open the pool. We thought it might be the year he decided to give up floaties and really learn to swim. Imagine our dismay when he announced that not only was he still wearing his floaties, but he’d drown if he didn’t also have a swim ring. He hadn’t used a ring since he was two! At first we just shook our heads and said whatever and let him. Then mysteriously the ring popped and couldn’t be used again. (Actually, it was far from a mystery. Gav jumped up and down on it. The rest is history.) It took forever to convince Owen that he’d be okay with just floaties, pointing out Gavin only used them, and we were right there, so he’d be fine. I’m fairly certain he sat out of the pool for a few days because he was too worried about the “What If” factor. He finally decided to try just his floaties and was quite shocked he didn’t drown.

This summer rolled around and I mentioned enrolling Owen in a swim classes. Owen solidly refused to even think about going. Rather than push it, I decided to leave it alone. I mean, really, how many 30 year old men are running around still using floaties? I knew he’d give them up… eventually, right? In seven short years, I’ve learned Owen does everything at his own pace and rushing him was only going to cause us both undue frustrations.  I know which battles are worth fighting. 

At the end of May, we opened our pool and Owen asked about the ring to go with his floaties. I was one step ahead of him and had hid all the rings. It was easy enough to just say we didn’t have any. He sort of cocked his head with a confused expression and put on the floaties. I told him I was fairly certain he would be able to touch the bottom this year and he gingerly lowered his body into the water from the edge and announced he couldn’t touch. It took me actually showing him that if I hang over the edge of the pool, my feet don’t touch either.  That got him to let go of the side and actually get into the water. Guess what? He could touch. I was a good mom and didn’t even mention taking the floaties off. I know my limits, but did make him tell me I was right. 

Fast forward to today, Father’s Day 2011. Gavin can be a little bit of a daredevil when it comes to trying things and I mentioned at breakfast that maybe today would be a good day for him to try learning to swim sans floaties. Gav thought it was a great plan. You see, while Owen is a safety precaution kid, he’s also pretty competitive. I knew the key to get him to ditch the floaties was to get Gav interested in doing it too. He listened intently while Gav and I talked about what exactly he was agreeing to, but never said he was interested in trying himself.

When we hit the pool later, I waited until Gav told me he was ready to take the floaties off. He was going under the water, floating on his back, dog paddling, and jumping in right away. He loved every minute of it! Owen was doing the “I’m pretending not to watch too close game,” but it was obvious he was taking everything in Gav was doing.

Gavin tredding water.

Finally, Gav ran to get David to show off his new moves and Owen asked if I’d help him the exact same way if he took his floaties off. CHA-CHING! The moment I’d been waiting for had finally arrived. I reminded Owen that he could just put his feet down at any time and he’d be just fine. He took his floaties off and lowered himself into the water, and then I grabbed his swim trunks in the back to tow him to the center of the pool. Two second later, it was clear he didn’t need me, so I stayed in the middle of the pool while he swam to the edge. He never even noticed I let go! He’s now a swimming and jumping fool. Talk about an awesome Father’s Day gift for David.

Owen jumping in.

Owen coming up from under the water.  (Sweet Jesus, the water makes my butt look gigantic.)

And yes, in case you’re wondering, I did make Owen tell me I was right about him being able to swim if he’d just try. I’m pretty sure all our neighbors heard him yell “My mom is always right.” That’s right, kiddo, I am and don’t forget it.

First Camping Adventure

The Stine family survived their first camping adventure Friday night! Granted, we only ventured 20 minutes from home, but it was still camping. We stayed at Eby Pines, which doesn’t look anything like I remember it looking when my Brownie Troop went there. Either my memory is off or they have changed it A LOT.


Anywho, my delightful and ever so amazing friend Eileen came out to help me set up our ginormous tent Friday afternoon at 3:00. David had to work until 6:00 and I knew there was no way the Stine midgets, er, kids could wait that long to hit the wilderness. I asked E, because I just sorta assumed she knew how to set up a tent as she knows all sorts of random things.

Parenting tip: If you make your kids hug a tree, they can't escape and you know where you left them.

For the record, I do know how to set up a tent, thank you very much. (I can also start a fire and change a tire.) However, our tent is ginormous and I couldn’t man both sides of it solo to actually put the dang thing up. Having the midgets help would have been an interesting adventure and not one I was up for. However, E was not tent savvy and brought along backup in the form of her dad, Jay. We bought a Coleman stove and lantern from him last summer, so he obviously has a clue about camping. We managed to get the tent set up next to the Little Elkhart River at site 339. We were the last site at the end of a cul de sac and the site next to us was vacant.

After E and Jay left, the boys helped me set up the air mattress, lamenting over the fact they didn’t have one. I explained that when they were adults, they could have air mattresses. Until then, the ground was their bed, because that’s how real campers camp. They bought it. (Shoot, it isn’t like they didn’t have sleeping bags! We aren’t that cruel.) After that, we went on a little walk on a path behind our tent. Owen’s flip flop quickly got sucked off his foot in a mud puddle he somehow missed- even though it is bigger than our bathtub. Thank goodness for the Little Elkhart being so close as he washed the mud off his shoes, feet, and legs in it. He thought that was the best way to bathe ever.


Warning:  The mud puddle eats shoes.

  

A handing bathing location: Maybe if we had one at home, he'd like baths more.

After bathing in the river, Owen helped Gav shuck ears of corn, while I started a fire. We started cooking our corn and Hobo dinners and at that point, I had to call my mom for backup. The boys were convinced I was preparing some sort of dog food for them and she assured them it was quite safe and normal camping cuisine. They agreed to at least try the food, more than I could get them to agree to. (Grandma mind tricks are strong, yes, yes, they are.) We played Simon Says for a while, and then Gav collected rocks and Owen explored. Every single rock Gav found was his favorite and it was around rock 28 that David arrived.

David inspected the tent and deemed we’d done a good job, while I pulled dinner out of the fire. Both boys told their Dad Hobo dinners were supposed to be delicious, but he needed to taste them first. After he didn’t fall over dead, they tried their first tentative bites. The next thing we knew, their plates were clean. I guess that means they liked them. After dinner, we went on a walk to the playground. It never ceases to amaze me how different the boys are. Gav stayed pretty close to us, whereas Owen made fast friends with two little boys. After a bit, Gav joined them, but made sure we stayed nearby.



Look!  They aren't being poisoned afterall!

They played for a while and we went back to our site, where the boys made friends with the boy two sites over from ours. He was in first grade, so a year older than Gav and a year younger than Owen. They ran around being boys until Owen dropped a stick on the other kid’s foot and he went screaming home. Convinced he was seriously injured, David went to investigate and it turned out he had a scratch on his foot that his mom said may or may not have been there already. She wasn’t worried and assured us the boy was fine. (Apparently, our kids aren’t the only ones that play the sympathy card!) Owen apologized again and Gav gave the boy some Transformer fruit bites, which seemed to heal his injury pretty well.  At that point, David and the boys practiced skipping stones for a bit.  Thank goodness Gav had collected so many!

After getting the fire going again, we decided it was s’mores time. Owen likes his marshmallows burnt, Gav barely brown, me golden brown and puffy, and David isn’t picky at all. I’m not sure if I should be ashamed I ate six or proud of my feat. At that point, the boys were beyond excited to sleep in the tent and crawled into their sleeping bags. They were both out within minutes.

David and I sat around talking about our upcoming vacation. We also watched some newcomers arrive and erect their tent using one pole, a clothesline, and some sticks. It was quite entertaining and should have been a sign of the fun (sarcasm) to come. We sat out until quiet time began at 11:00. At that point, we both decided we were done swatting mosquitoes and hit the air mattress. David also fell right to sleep, but my insomnia kicked in and I spent the next two hours tossing and turning.

That’s when the newcomers had guzzled enough beer and decided to wade in the Little Elkhart. They alternated between shouting obscenities and laughing, all while tripping and falling for a good 40 minutes, then finally went back to their site. I figured they were finished for the evening and almost fell asleep. That’s when they decided they needed to have a second wading adventure. This time was the same, only a female in their group started yelling at them so they started throwing beer bottles at her. How’s that for family entertainment? She was yelling that they were next to our tent and being “loud as roosters” (Roosters? Really? Yep.) and they used some words that shouldn't be used in public to deny it. At this point, David and the boys were starting to wake up; I bid you to remember hell has no fury like a mom with kids who wake up in the middle of the night because of moronic behavior. I used my best angry teacher voice and informed them they were mistaken and to can it. It worked! I can only hope that the mosquitoes devoured them or they at least got poison ivy for being so rude. I also hope that the woman they were with finds better companions.

At that point, it was 3:30 and I finally fell asleep. We all slept until 7:30, which is actually quite late for the boys. David took Gav to the bathroom and returned saying the mosquitoes were horrible and asked what I thought about packing up and heading home for breakfast. As Gav gets HUGE knots from bites and is a tasty mosquito buffet even with bug spray, I was in agreement. We had the car and van packed in a dozen minutes. Not too bad for amateurs!

Will we return to Eby Pines? That I don’t know. It was okay as far as campgrounds go, but the bathrooms were more than a little on the dirty side. Yes, I realize we were camping, but there is a difference between clean dirt and just gross. They ran the risk of turning gross very quickly. I also didn’t appreciate that our fellow campers had no class and didn’t care they were acting like drunken fools. Again, I get that can happen anywhere, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. All I know is the boys are already looking forward to their next camping adventure as are we.

Gavin is 5!

Our little monkey turned five today.  Where does time go?!  It seems like we were just bringing Gavin home from the hospital (a mighty fine Father's Day gift, if you ask me).  He was a good baby, who loved snuggling and still does.   He watches everything and out for everyone and every creature.  We love his kind heart and quick sense of humor.  He really does make us laugh every day with some of the things he says.  Happy birthday, Gav! 

When I told Gav I was going to write about him, he wanted me to include these pictures.  Enjoy! 



Guess how old I am?





This is his rotten face.  We see it most often when he's up to no good. 




A boy and his big brother - best friends (most of the time)



His "most favorite" present from his party



Relaxing with Squirt



Kisses from Alfie

Changes

So, I’ve decided to revisit blogging this summer as I really do miss writing and this seems like an easy way to get back into the swing of things. I’ve got a plan rumbling around in the back of my head, but need to work out a few kinks. Until then, you, my lucky reader get to read about whatever the heck I decide to post.

Right now, the boys and I are on summer vacation- week two of it to be exact. This summer is a little bit different as both boys are very self-sufficient and don’t need me hovering over them quite as much. I suppose that’s a good thing, right? We all want our kids to grow up to be self-sufficient, but when you actually see little bits of it appearing, well… that’s just another reminder the day they leave the nest is drawing closer.

I realize we still have a great deal of time before our munchkins leave us, but it seems like time is going to fly by so quickly. Shoot, in ten weeks, Gav starts kindergarten. I swear I was just pregnant with him last week! When I look at him, it seems hard to believe my little midget is going to be riding a bus, eating lunch in a bustling cafeteria, and walking to his classroom all on his own. He’s so incredibly excited about school that when I asked if he knew what tomorrow was, he shouted, “Yes! I get to start kindergarten!” Not quite… it is his birthday. Who knew school was more exciting than a birthday? Do you think he will feel the same when he’s 16?

I have to stop every now and then and remind myself that while many things are changing, others aren’t. Take for example Owen and his summer haircut. Since he was two, he’s had a mohawk in the summer. This year is no different; school ended and out came the clippers. However, I did notice one thing: he doesn’t look like a little boy anymore. He looks like a full-fledged KID- complete with a six pack. Both his Dad and I wonder where he got it; we’ve searched our family trees and can find no record of anyone having one before Owen much less even a two pack. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t switched at birth, so maybe six packs skip lots of generations or are caused by the pregnant mom consuming lots of salsa for nine months straight.

Anywho, along with the mohawk, Owen is also sporting a daredevil attitude that is causing me grey hairs. I don’t know if he’s gained extra confidence in Taekwondo or just coming into his own, but Owen certainly is trying new and adventurous things. He’s jumping in the pool this year, hanging upside-down out of trees, riding his bike to the cul-de-sac solo, and gasp, trying milk on his cereal. Now, I know this last item isn’t really Evil Kenevil-ish, but if you know Owen at all, you know what a HUGE deal this is. He’s a great eater, don’t get me wrong, but once he decides he doesn’t like something, good luck EVER getting him to eat it. He’s stubborn. (I blame his father’s genes.) In the period of three days, he decided to try milk with his cereal and applesauce out of nowhere. And you know what, I was right the whole time; he liked both! (Being the bigger person I did not, I repeat, did not do the “I’m right and you were wrong” happy dance. Trust me, I wanted to!)

What does all this mean? I guess Owen is starting to learn his mom is usually right. As a bonus, he can feed himself; for the man that has cereal and milk is pretty much set for three meals a day for life. For Gav, it means that his whole world is about to change. He’s on his way to being a big kid and I just hope neither boy forgets their mom loves hugs and art projects.