And so it starts:
The other day we were talking about plans for the month of April, and I turned to my youngest son, who is celebrating his sixth birthday in April, and asked him, "What do you want to do for your birthday?"
Without missing a beat, he replies, "A party. And I want GIRLS to be there, Mom."
***
Our middle son recently got KU-blue highlights in his hair. He's been wanting to do this for months now. Galen's and my philosophy in this realm is rather relaxed. "So long as you're clean and covered, we're happy." So, during Spring Break, off we went to my hair-person, Lou, and she did a great job. As we walk in the door coming home from the appointment, my oldest son immediately starts in on teasing and chiding his younger brother about his hair, expecting a rise out of him. AJ very calmly waits for a break in Kagen's ramble, and says almost under his breath, "Well, the girls dig me no matter what my hair looks like."
Kagen hasn't made mention of AJ's hair since.
***
This last one isn't funny, so much as it was odd, and I feel compelled to share it.
About a month ago, Kagen went to a Christian concert with our church's youth group, and got home rather late at night. An hour after he came home and we all went to bed, the phone rang. Thinking it was someone from church, informing us of a wallet or MP3 player Kagen had left behind or something, I answered the phone.
It was a girl I didn't recognize, asking for Kagen.
Still trying to rise out of my sleep-induced stupor, I told his cute young thing very politely, "Kagen is not available right now. Can you call back *in the morning*?" We exchanged good-byes and I hung up. I'm just a cool Mom that way.
It wasn't until I plopped myself back in bed that it really hit me what had just happened. Not only had a GIRL called... but called at 1:00am to talk with my son about something. What the flip? Is she SERIOUS?
My musings were short-lived, as that a mere fifteen minutes later, the phone rang again.
The time for coolness is over.
I picked up the phone and said the following: "Darlin' it is one o'clock in the morning. People are sleeping in the world right now. Please do not call again until morning." And I hung up on her.
Yes, I told Kagen about it the next morning. He reacted with a decent mix of laughter and embarrassment. I got the distinct impression I had not beleagured a budding romance or anything. But my Cool Mom peg did slide down a notch or two.
Casualties of love and war, apparently.
***
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
A Parallel Universe
I'm thirty-four, for your information.
This, in and of itself, is no big deal to me. I do not delude myself about aging, or getting older, or maturing, or whatever you want to call it. I realize full well, that, no matter what my oldest son says, I'm still very young in life. I'm over it, trust me.
But what does get to me about being thrity-four is how vastly different my life is now at this age, than what I had once envisioned for myself looking ahead to this age. I do not so much long for the life I had once idealized for myself, as it's just so... DIFFERENT from what I thought it would be. Robert Frost's poem about the road less travelled has been hitting me between the eyes the past few birthdays.
See, what was SUPPOSED to happen at the age of thirty-four was this: Two B.A.'s in music and music education under my hat, in addition to a master's degree from a conservatory as yet unnamed. I would have left my educational pursuits after my master's degree and failed on the professional circuit for a couple of years, but nonetheless gleaning valuable life-long experience and wisdom from the myriad of big cities, snooty orhcestras, and gruelling auditions I will have willingly walked myself into. THEN, I was going to take on teaching at a private studio or university. Believe it or not, I even had envisioned going from a university teaching position to directing a high school vocal program. Somewhere in my late twenties, I would meet Mr. Right and consdier getting married after the age of thirty. Somewhere around the age of thrity-five, we might possibly consider having a child. Maybe two. Depends. Before Kagen was born, I had no idea how I'd do around small children. Older kids, no problem. But younger ones??? Well...
Oh, how vastly different life has turned out! As in, laughably so! Again, with what I hope is a genuine acceptance and contentment of God's will in my life, and not a painful facade veiling a deep-seated quiet desperation, I do not long for what I once thought would be. Really. I have been placed where I am unmistakenly by the Author of Life, and so much of my life as it is NOW is so blessed with God's love and grace, how can I long for anything else? Different, but not inferior in anyway.
I spent my thirty-fourth birthday last Saturday, not thinking about maybe having a child and hashing out the pros, cons, whys and wherefores with my husband of a couple of years, but I DID spend it with my husband of 12.5 years, and our four children at a park, having a picnic, where we got messy, dirty, wind-swept and worn out with the fun.
God can be SO obvious sometimes, can't He?
This, in and of itself, is no big deal to me. I do not delude myself about aging, or getting older, or maturing, or whatever you want to call it. I realize full well, that, no matter what my oldest son says, I'm still very young in life. I'm over it, trust me.
But what does get to me about being thrity-four is how vastly different my life is now at this age, than what I had once envisioned for myself looking ahead to this age. I do not so much long for the life I had once idealized for myself, as it's just so... DIFFERENT from what I thought it would be. Robert Frost's poem about the road less travelled has been hitting me between the eyes the past few birthdays.
See, what was SUPPOSED to happen at the age of thirty-four was this: Two B.A.'s in music and music education under my hat, in addition to a master's degree from a conservatory as yet unnamed. I would have left my educational pursuits after my master's degree and failed on the professional circuit for a couple of years, but nonetheless gleaning valuable life-long experience and wisdom from the myriad of big cities, snooty orhcestras, and gruelling auditions I will have willingly walked myself into. THEN, I was going to take on teaching at a private studio or university. Believe it or not, I even had envisioned going from a university teaching position to directing a high school vocal program. Somewhere in my late twenties, I would meet Mr. Right and consdier getting married after the age of thirty. Somewhere around the age of thrity-five, we might possibly consider having a child. Maybe two. Depends. Before Kagen was born, I had no idea how I'd do around small children. Older kids, no problem. But younger ones??? Well...
Oh, how vastly different life has turned out! As in, laughably so! Again, with what I hope is a genuine acceptance and contentment of God's will in my life, and not a painful facade veiling a deep-seated quiet desperation, I do not long for what I once thought would be. Really. I have been placed where I am unmistakenly by the Author of Life, and so much of my life as it is NOW is so blessed with God's love and grace, how can I long for anything else? Different, but not inferior in anyway.
I spent my thirty-fourth birthday last Saturday, not thinking about maybe having a child and hashing out the pros, cons, whys and wherefores with my husband of a couple of years, but I DID spend it with my husband of 12.5 years, and our four children at a park, having a picnic, where we got messy, dirty, wind-swept and worn out with the fun.
God can be SO obvious sometimes, can't He?
Thursday, March 5, 2009
If you're not in Kansas today, I feel sorry for you.
It's 78 degrees today, which is fantastic in and of itself. Forty-eight hours ago, it was *just* above freezing and there was snow on the ground. (The midwest is a meteorologist's DREAM, I tell ya.)
But what I'm REALLY excited about, is something I saw in my yard today.
Today, I saw in my dilapidated ol' flower bed some tiny green shoots just peeking out from the old mulch.
That one dash of green amongst the sea of sad brown in one fell swoop wiped away my "winter contentment" and has infected me henceforth with "spring fever." Talk about your air-borne viruses. I don't know if there's an antibiotic for this particular fever, but even if there is, I don't want it. It's a fever I'm savoring right now. I will relish in it for WEEKS, I promise you.
And, it's a fever most likely all the more complicated by the rash treatment we made on our old shrubs late last fall.
Let me ellucidate this backstory:
It starts with my house color: I hate it. I have since I first laid eyes on it. It's just not me, not US. I've been itching and planning to get it all painted away since we closed on the house, no lie. Compounding that problem was my deep-seated dislike on the over-grown barbury and evergreen shrubs which were dominating the front facade.
Last fall, I had in my wee little brain the idea that "now" would be the perfect time and weather to paint. But, of course, we have to get rid of the old shrubs first! That just makes sense, right?!
So we organized a day for both sets of our parents to come to our house, with chains and ball-hitches in tow, and yank that horrid flora-mess out of my yard.
Said yanking and further lawn clean up ensued relatively easily enough, praise be. SO, now... it's time to paint.
Late September went by... still plenty of time.
Early October slipped through our fingers... well, we were busier than we thought we'd be.
Late October zipped past, laughing and pointing at us... WHEN are we going to get this done?
Early November was a blur... Do we dare start NOW?
And then... Thankgiving. I had to admit defeat.
So, the roots of any existing flora lying dormant in the ground hasn't been the only thing "sleeping" this winter. My precious manilla folder containing my paint samples and landscape plans has been gathering dust in my desk drawer.
And now, according to that one glance of that one small green shoot, it's time to rifle out my plans and succumb to the fire of the fever.
Spring Fever, that is.
[sniff]
Just enjoy...
It's 78 degrees today, which is fantastic in and of itself. Forty-eight hours ago, it was *just* above freezing and there was snow on the ground. (The midwest is a meteorologist's DREAM, I tell ya.)
But what I'm REALLY excited about, is something I saw in my yard today.
Today, I saw in my dilapidated ol' flower bed some tiny green shoots just peeking out from the old mulch.
That one dash of green amongst the sea of sad brown in one fell swoop wiped away my "winter contentment" and has infected me henceforth with "spring fever." Talk about your air-borne viruses. I don't know if there's an antibiotic for this particular fever, but even if there is, I don't want it. It's a fever I'm savoring right now. I will relish in it for WEEKS, I promise you.
And, it's a fever most likely all the more complicated by the rash treatment we made on our old shrubs late last fall.
Let me ellucidate this backstory:
It starts with my house color: I hate it. I have since I first laid eyes on it. It's just not me, not US. I've been itching and planning to get it all painted away since we closed on the house, no lie. Compounding that problem was my deep-seated dislike on the over-grown barbury and evergreen shrubs which were dominating the front facade.
Last fall, I had in my wee little brain the idea that "now" would be the perfect time and weather to paint. But, of course, we have to get rid of the old shrubs first! That just makes sense, right?!
So we organized a day for both sets of our parents to come to our house, with chains and ball-hitches in tow, and yank that horrid flora-mess out of my yard.
Said yanking and further lawn clean up ensued relatively easily enough, praise be. SO, now... it's time to paint.
Late September went by... still plenty of time.
Early October slipped through our fingers... well, we were busier than we thought we'd be.
Late October zipped past, laughing and pointing at us... WHEN are we going to get this done?
Early November was a blur... Do we dare start NOW?
And then... Thankgiving. I had to admit defeat.
So, the roots of any existing flora lying dormant in the ground hasn't been the only thing "sleeping" this winter. My precious manilla folder containing my paint samples and landscape plans has been gathering dust in my desk drawer.
And now, according to that one glance of that one small green shoot, it's time to rifle out my plans and succumb to the fire of the fever.
Spring Fever, that is.
[sniff]
Just enjoy...
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