The anatomy of a mother’s thoughts.

The other day, as I was pushing 80 MPH in a 70 MPH zone, to get from Point A to Point B quickly, I glanced down and noticed for the first time how fast I was going. I was propelling myself and my children through a sea of metal at a rate higher than what was recommended for safety. I started to really think about what I was doing, that I was in a vehicle that was moving amongst other vehicles and that, though I was responsible for keeping my vehicle under control and safe as I was transporting my Beans, I had no control of anything or anyone around us. And we were moving fast. I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around it. I shook my head as if to physically rid the thoughts that were accumulating in my mind.

Obviously, I’m not going to stop driving, but the thought of what could potentially happen in a vehicle which, quite frankly, I’m not skilled at driving properly, jarred me.

And then I began to think of other things. Maybe all mothers do this at one point or another. Maybe the range of concern spirals from spontaneous curiosity to bone-chilling obsession. I just began thinking.

Of when they won’t be with me.

Of when they take the school bus for the first time.

Of when they ride their bikes around the neighborhood.

Of when they sit in a dark theater with their friends.

Of when they run to the store for a pack of gum.

And then I think about what may not physically hurt them but what may break their heart.

I admit that I once shed tears at the play area of the local mall. Granted, I may have been PMS-ing just a bit, but I sat along the sides with J and the other parents, watching the Beans play and interact with the other children. I saw their contradictory personalities in their play. A moved amongst the children with ease and confidence, and a bit of an attitude. M, on the other hand, gingerly followed her sister. Where she would normally be the aggressor between the two of them, she was timid and uncertain. At one point, Maggie tried to go to Audrey, who was looking in a mirror at the other side of the play area. A little boy was running between them and this frustrated Maggie and made her turn and run back to us in anger. We consoled her and gently pushed her back into the crowd and eventually she made it to Audrey. But the damage was done in my mind. I said to J, “What if, one day, she is left behind because Audrey is off with her friends? What if she feels intimidated or unwelcome?” It brought me to tears in the middle of the mall. I began thinking.

Of when they will have their heart broken.

Of when they will be lonely.

Of when they will feel different, unsure, scared.

Last night, Jack’s friend was killed in a car accident. I was afraid to call him. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to hear the anguish in his voice. I didn’t want to think that it could have easily been him.

I realize that I can’t protect them. Though I’d love to gather them up into a bubble of security and comfort for the rest of their lives, so that they never have to feel pain, physical or otherwise, I know that it’s not really what they need. I can’t keep them from mishaps, from accidents, from jerks or from failure. I can’t keep them from life. That would be the greatest crime.

Wordless Wednesday: Maggie and the “new” Uncle Mike

Well…it’s not going to be completely wordless because I have to announce that the Beans are going to be…

…wait for it…

Flower girls!

Tracy and Mike got engaged in December and they’ve asked the Beans to be in the wedding.

Commence oohing and awwing and begin the wait for disgustingly adorable dress choices.

Congratulations to Tracy and Mike!!!

Though, I will say that Maggie is a little bummed to have to share Uncle Mike with Aunt Tracy. She actually swoons.

Rejection

Maggie doesn’t love me.

She’s said so on more than one occasion. And it’s happening more frequently. She wants nothing to do with me. She wriggles out of my grasp; she won’t look me in the eye. She’s openly defiant. She’s two.

Audrey has a much gentler, democratic way of indicating her preference in parents. When Daddy Bean is gone, I’m her moon, her sun, her everything. She asks to call me when I am gone. When I walk through the door, she squeals in delight and runs full speed into my arms. When I swoop her up, she greedily hugs me, as if she hasn’t seen me in days, rather than a few short hours. I feel loved.

When he is there, she squirms away from me and burrows into his shoulder. Who wouldn’t? He’s got great shoulders! And I don’t mind it too much; it doesn’t hurt because I know what little time they have with him and I always feel a tinge of pride as I watch her idol worship from the sidelines.

Maggie, on the other hand, is a bit colder with her feelings. When she sees me, if she even looks up from what she is doing, gives me only half a glance. Sometimes she’ll ask, “Where’s Daddy?” as if the Work Fairy dropped off the wrong parent. In the morning, when I am getting her ready for the day and it is still too early for either of us to be reasonable, she will scream in anger at even my slightest touch. She refuses to let me take her out of her car seat, if J and I are both in the car. She won’t let me kiss her good-night.

The other day, while she was trying to escape my hold, I asked her if she loved me. I know it was silly of me and that she’s only a child throwing a tantrum, but when she repeatedly sobbed, “No, I love Daddy! I love Daddy, not Momma,” I welled up with tears.

I can’t help that it hurts my feelings when she rejects me. In the end, I realize that she’s just being a toddler and that it’s nothing personal. Actually, I’m quite thrilled that the Beans have such a loving relationship with their father – it reminds me of the one that me and my sisters have with our dad. But I’d love to go back to the old days when Maggie was my girl and I was hers.

Spartan Pride

They aren’t Spartans yet, but boy do they love Momma Bean’s alma mater. The Beans are showing off their favorite shirt and socks (and their training pants which, not five minutes after these photos were taken, were on the floor, in a pile of soggy mess). M has a book that Stacy bought for her that she flips through occassionally. Her favorite one is the page that has musical notes on it. Whenever she gets to that page, she demands that I sing the fight song to her. Soon, she’ll know it better than me. As it stands now, she’s got the “Rah, rah, fight team rah!” part down pat.

Christmas, Take Two

Back it up, back it up, back it up!

Here’s what happens when you have nil in the way of IT knowledge and your only skill in HTML is how to bold everything or cut and paste a cute and glittery graphic onto Facespace. You lose stories of the daily grind with your Beans. You will have to sift through memories to recall the funny one-liners that toddlers tend to say while they are learning that pooping on the toilet is a good thing.

The pictures are somewhere on my faithful but failing laptop, but the words are gone. Not that I penned anything earth shattering. To be honest, I think it was mostly photos, as December was a blur of activity and concentrating on enjoying the first Christmas that the Beans could actually get excited for.

This wouldn’t have happened had I kept a baby journal the traditional way, or knew even a little bit about scrapbooking. Thankfully, I’m only missing a month or so. Lesson learned. #%$^$%@ technology!

$@#$%#%# Technology!!!

I know, I know. Where did December go? Out with the Christmas tree, apparently. I’m working on it, but if anyone can give me advice on how to recover lost posts after switching servers, I’ll buy you a drink!

Knock, knock…

Did you hear that?

The Terrible Twos have arrived.

I was going to write a joke, but this is no laughing matter.

Please help.

Send reinforcements…

…or wine.

Wordless Wednesday #9: The Playhouse

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens…

The Beans may never see the value in a good rock ballad. They may never truly appreciate a movie marathon of Grease, Pretty in Pink and Dirty Dancing. And they may never find ways to justify gluttonous behavior at a dessert table. But, the thing about kids is that, for a short while at least, they are a captive audience.

For a short while, I can impart my wisdom. I can show them what I’ve learned from this good world. I can paint their blank canvas with a few of my favorite things. And with these tools, they will form their preferences. Their likes and dislikes. What makes them smile.

I did some of that this weekend.

Daddy Bean and I, against stern warnings of friends who have trekked the path before us, took the Beans to see Bee Movie this weekend. Movies were one thing J and I had in common from the beginning, even though his idea of a good movie was Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man and mine was The Godfather (can you believe he never saw it until he met me?!?!). Before the Beans, it would not be uncommon for J and I to see movies three weekends out of any given month. At one point, we saw two in one weekend. We love movies. So, it was with joyful anticipation that we carried our little legumes into the darkened theater, found The Perfect Spot* and settled in for an hour and a half of animated entertainment.

The Pie was sold on the concept almost instantly. She nestled into her chair, bag of popcorn in hand, and gazed lovingly at the big T.V. She sat undisturbed for most of the movie, only climbing into J’s lap half way through before being placed into mine while J took Peanut out for a little break. Peanut, on the other hand, started off on the wrong foot with the theater. First, the seats were too much for twenty pounds to handle and she spent much of the waiting for the movie folded into a little V, but not interested in sitting in a booster chair or our laps. And, thank goodness for matinees and forgiving parents, because Audie doesn’t know what movie voice is. She only knows what Audie voice is. And she used it. And she hopped and skipped between us, asking questions and singing songs, every once in awhile stopping to watch a few minutes of the movie. After her trip to the lobby with J, she finally nestled in to watch the end of the film. Afterward, the girls were bubbling with happiness that they went to The Movies!

Another thing I introduced to the girls was hot cocoa. Yesterday, when I couldn’t handle any more of the Lions’ disappointing game, I wandered into the kitchen to find something to comfort me. Immediately, I spotted the tin of Ghirardelli hot cocoa left over from last winter. Aha! The first sip was like seeing an old friend. Perfection! Until I turned around and spotted Maggie at my feet. “Up, Momma!” She said. At first, I begrudged her for interrupting this happy reunion and then I thought, “Why not?” I pulled a teaspoon from the drawer and blew the frothy concoction to a lukewarm before I let her try it. Bingo! Her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “More, Momma!” she urged. I complied and then called her little sister over to taste a bit of heaven. No sooner did I put the spoon to Audrey’s lips did she smile with glee. She loved it too!! I cannot tell you what joy this gives me! We spent the next few minutes sitting on the floor of the kitchen, sharing a steaming cup of hot cocoa, one Bean perched on each side of my lap. It can’t get any better than that. It took all I could to wipe their cocoa mustaches off their faces.

Finally, yesterday morning, we took the girls to the nursery around the corner. I had read in a flyer a few weeks ago that the store would be decorated for Christmas time by the first of the month. I had never been there before but there really is nothing I relish more than Christmas time, and all that it entails, so I put the nursery on my list of things to do with the girls during the season. I’ve held back on introducing them to Christmas carols just yet. A local radio station had the audacity to begin 24 hour Christmas music on November 1st, to get us in the spirit. To me, that’s a sin and I don’t allow a bit of the stuff until after the turkey has been eaten and the Lions have been beaten. But Christmas lights are a different story. I’ll allow a little taste of it before Thanksgiving. I just can’t help myself!

The minute we walked into the nursery, we were overwhelmed with light and sparkle. We oohed and ahhed over every gloriously decorated tree. We crouched to peek at nativity scenes and glimpsed our reflections in shiny bulbs. It was literally a winter wonderland and my Beans couldn’t get enough of it. Or maybe I couldn’t get enough of it and I only thought they were enjoying it as much as I did. Whatever the case, it was a delight to be able to share it with them.

I think that what I like the most about showing the Beans some of my favorite things in life is not just that I can expose them to what the world has to offer or so I can capture the curious looks on their faces just before they take their first taste of something amazing and then the surprise in their smiling faces as they figure out just what I was talking about, but that I can share with someone that I love so much these little things in life that make living so grand.

*The Perfect Spot for us usually is in the front row of the stadium seats, on the end.

Blog Love

I’ve mentioned before that I initially started this blog and its predecessor in order to keep my sisters and my sister-in-law updated on my pregnancy and afterwards the milestones and developments of the Beans, so that they would feel a part of the Beans’ life, even though they are miles away.

Along the way, I’ve learned a trick or two about html, I’ve found favorite writers and even developed a small but loyal following. And, I’ve been presented with wonderful awards that let me know I am loved! Yippee and hooray!

As I believe in karma, I also believe that these amazing women are more deserving of the awards that have been bestowed upon me.

So, to Amanda, Deb and Shawn, I give you the Excellent Blog award. The title speaks for itself.

A Crime Has Been Committed.

The Perpetrator:

The Victim:

The Crime:

In Peanut’s defense, the Pie has been the bully, the big sister, the brute since Day 1 inside my womb. She’s pushed, shoved, pulled, grabbed. She’s stolen pipes, Duckies, kisses and bottles and all the while Peanut has turned the other cheek. Last night, the story ended differently. Last night, Audie showed Maggie that she may be little but she packs a mean punch bite. Last night, she told the Pie that she was mad as hell and she wasn’t going to take it anymore.

I hope Maggie got the picture.

How’s this for your daily dose of cute?

You know that song, “Bubbly” by Colbie Calliat?

In the beginning of the song, over the music, she asks, “Will you count me in?”

Whenever the Pie hears it, she responds, “Okay!”

I sometimes replay the song, just to hear her say it.

Green and White

On Saturday, my heart was in East Lansing. My cousin called me from one of the tennis courts to chide me about not sharing with him how great it is to tailgate like a Spartan and it brought me back to all of the crisp days where we bundled up and filled our boda bags with core warming concoctions and huddled together in camaraderie and school spirit.

Just a day before, I was sharing with Erin my horror at the projected cost of a four year education at my beloved institution would be in sixteen years, factoring in the cost of inflation (go here if you aren’t faint of heart). $366,000.00. Three. Hundred. Sixty. Six. Thousand.

Dollars.

I’m assuming that doesn’t include things like groceries, cute team apparel, late night breakfasts at Denny’s, sorority dues or emergency gas fund to get back home when you are either (a) homesick or (b) out of clean laundry. Gah! And, I’m presuming that it will only take the Beans four years in which to complete their baccalaureate. You know…like it took me….and six months. Wha? Wha? I switched majors halfway through sophomore year! Damn economics!

That being said, I should probably start saving now. This weekend, I should have opened a 529 Account instead of buying this, this and this for the Beans. But really, doesn’t every girl need princess shoes?

When I mentioned it to their aunt, she said that they could go to our local (and wonderful) community college for the first two years and then transfer. I smiled and nodded but what I really wanted to say is that I cannot wait for the day that they get the acceptance letter from my alma mater. I will be decked out in green and white and we will sing the fight song and we will spend every autumn Saturday at the edge of our chairs, fingers crossed, hoping against hope for our beloved team.

The bottom line is that I will be happy with whatever college they choose. Even if their future entails a certain weasel festooned in garish yellow and blue. I just want them to have the same (PG rated!) experiences that I did and to meet new people and have every opportunity that an education affords them. When I arrived at the doorsteps of my dorm, I was shy and naïve and a bit self-conscious. I’d like to say that I emerged wiser, tougher and more confident, yet still optimistic and idealistic about the world around me.

Whatever they decide, I hope they make good decisions, take the right path and feel happy and fulfilled doing so. If that is the case then every penny will be well spent.

Go green! Go white!

Here come the Lions!

Our first official Halloween of trick-or-treating went off without a hitch. The grandparents came over to hold down the fort and pass out candy while we went a’begging to our neighbors.

The Beans got the hang of it pretty quickly and after about three houses, they knew to knock on the doors and to open their little bags to chocolates and candy.

We only went to the houses on our street, because we were sure that the girls would tire of the novelty pretty quickly. When we got back, the Beans commissioned Papa to dish out the goodies. And did he dish them out. The Beans were bouncing off the walls and for a good while after we tucked them into bed, we could hear giggling mixed with tears from the baby monitor.

It was a bit sad to see the numbers of trick-or-treaters drop even more this year. Daddy Bean and I waxed nostalgic with the grandparents of our days roaming the neighborhoods for Snickers and Sweet Tarts. I wonder why there aren’t more kids out nowadays, and even less neighbors passing out candy? I hope the tradition doesn’t fade because, while Halloween isn’t my favorite holiday, there is something to be said about tradition and good memories.

Here’s to good memories.

Happy Birthday to Momma Bean’s #1 Fan!

Wordless Wednesday #8: Happy Halloween!

Sleepy: A Haiku

The Beans are asleep.
Max curls under my knees, warm.
Silent days are scarce.

Audrey stole my camera.