Springing Ahead

 My friend asked me recently when is it inappropriate to continue to use the "spring ahead" time change as an excuse for your children's bad behavior? Although it has taken us all a few days to adjust to being an hour ahead, I have to say that this year I really appreciated the time change more than ever. I felt like I was operating in darkness constantly. Various sports practices across town in the late afternoon/evening hours had me feeling like I was living a majority of life without the sun. 

Evelyn is now a member of the Westside Metros soccer team. After months of asking-dare I say begging-us to let her play, we finally allowed her to try out; and lo and behold, she made the team. 

Practices are no joke: they are outside, in the dark, rain or shine. Evelyn doesn't seem to mind and she doesn't dare complain. I was always against playing club, but because she wanted a more competitive soccer environment, we decided to allow her to try this team of the Spring season. 

And just as the boys finished out their basketball season, baseball try outs began almost the same day. The boys made the AAA team, which is the more advanced level of play. We are excited to see what they will do this year on the field. 

February flew by. We had a long anticipated trip to Illinois over Presidents Day weekend which resulted in great family memories.... and four children passing around a terrible virus. 

Grandpa knows how to build snow forts!

James is almost too big for GG's lap

Long awaited Christmas gift giving! 

Roller skating was a hit on a cold, winter day

A snowy zoo day with second cousin Mara

At the beginning of March, the kids had their Hoop-a-thon fundraiser at school, which is really a fun event, culminating in a big assembly with raffle prizes. This year Caleb put all his tickets into the electric scooter basket. He talked about winning this prize for weeks. 

 

As always, he put his whole heart and soul into shooting hoops again this year. There is always a little competition between the three boys. Although he truly tries the hardest, he never quite gets as many hoops as Levi and James. 

However, this year as I pulled up to carpool line, what do I see there standing next to him: 

                                                                    the electric scooter. 

                                                                     He indeed won it. 

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We are realizing that if we want to make any plans in at all in life, we need to circle in red the date on the calendar  months in advance. If we don't, a million other things will try to weasel their way into that slot. And so, at Christmas, Evelyn had it in her mind that she wanted to surprise the boys and plan a trip for them to the coast for a weekend of metal detecting and gold panning (two on their most favorite past times) With our help, we secured a little cottage and circled the second weekend in March in bright red, missing soccer games and various social invites. The kids were all very much looking forward to this weekend away.

John was out of town that entire week before, so we picked him up at the airport with our van packed for the weekend; we then drove the two hours to Long Beach, Washington to begin our treasure hunting adventure. We arrived late to a cold and damp little cottage. Lucy was very excited to come along on this trip. 

The first morning, Caleb and I jumped into the van in search of breakfast, landing on a little local McDonalds. Egg McMuffins would do!

 After a satisfying breakfast, we followed the little path from our cabin to the beach front.

 It was totally empty except for us. 

We let Lucy off her leash, and my oh my, I have never seen a happier dog. She was free! 

Running in circles, digging holes, eating sand; she was truly living her best life as a beach dog. As John and I watched her zoom around the sand, we heard in the distance an incessant beeping sound. The kids crowded around a particular spot near the water, digging digging digging with their little shovels.

 They were eagerly trying to uncover what was causing the metal detector to react so excitedly. 

Their shovels hit something. 

John stepped in and helped in the effort, as the sand was heavy and digging was exhausting. 

Finally, it was uncovered: a metal stove grate buried deep in the sand for who knows how long! Bizarre but truly rare, and I was just happy we found something on this treasure seeking weekend. 

We spent the day lazy in the cottage and when the sun poked out, we ventured to the beach again and found a little river where the kids built sand castles and panned for gold. I was chilled to the bone. At one point I laid back in the sand with my coat over my head, trying the allow for the sun to warm me. As I lay there soaking up the sun, Lucy started dry heaving and threw up her entire breakfast, which John promptly buried in the sand. Sand is not kind to her digestive track.

After a few hours of me huddling in the sandscape and the kids playing happily, we convinced them it was time to clean up and find some dinner. 

This trip really confirmed that I am NOT an Oregon coast person. Although pretty, the sand, wind and chill...and more sand... is not my idea of an exhilerating time. The dog was a mess and I'm glad it wasn't my house I was going home to yet. 

We traveled back home Sunday, and I was glad that we had lost a whole hour. 

Everyone was a bit off for a few days with the time change.

 On Sunday, a neighbor invited the boys to their house to practice some baseball batting at 4:30. The boys gathered up the their things and traipsed across the neighborhood at 4:15. 

45 minutes later  the father of the boy texted us, asking if our boys were coming to batting practice. Confused, John and I told him they left 45 minutes ago, less than a 1/2  mile walk. 

And so, a bit concerned, I got into my car to go look for them. 

And sure enough, as I turned down a street I saw them mosing casually down the road. "Where have you been?" I asked Levi, who looked surprised to see me. 

"We were at the park playing baseball. Now it's finally time to go to batting practice." He pointed at his watch. 4:15. 

Well it WAS 4:15, an hour ago. Levi forgot to change his watch, and so he was running an hour behind schedule!

We were able to laugh about the mistake, grateful that that was the reason they never showed up to practice!

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And finally, we end the Spring term with the long await, highly anticipated West Hills tradition of the Patriotic Program. In 3rd and 4th grade, the students partake in a term-long project where they research a patriot, write a speech and then perform  this speech in character (along with patriotic songs) in a culminating evening show. 

This year with had Ulysses S. Grant (Levi) Daniel James "Chappie (James) and Billy Sunday (Caleb). 

The boys worked so hard, and they did an amazing job. 

I am so grateful to watch my kids salute the troops and honor God and country. It's a fading tradition these days, and it brought a tear to my eye. I was one proud, happy mama. 

Billy Sunday ready for a great show!

Ulysses and Daniel 

God bless America!

My boys had xylophone solos!

Daniel James "Chappie" 

Billy Sunday giving his speech to attentive parents 

Nine year old Triplets

 I watched them, from the doorway after I turned out the light for the night. The three of them in the same bunk, holding their little flashlights over their Calvin and Hobbs comic books, reading intently. Caleb saw me in the doorway, spying on them, and he gave me a sideways smile as he continued to read.

 "We decided Mom that we are going to sleep in the same bed tonight because it's an occasion." 

Okay Caleb, yes, it's an occasion. 

It was the last night of them being eight years old. 

We've been encouraging them to sleep separately these past months because frankly the three of them were quite crowded in one twin bunk. However, despite the lack of space, they prefer to be together.

 John and I finally put our foot down about the situation when apparently James grew a really long toe nail and used it as a claw in the night to create more room for himself, causing great disputes to erupt in the dark. 

My heart actually ached as I stared at them, soaking in that moment, the three of them together, eight years old. How I longed to hold on to that moment forever, and I felt desperate because I knew it was slipping away. Moments can't be held on to, only savored and then released to become a memory. 

Nine years old seems suddenly so old to me. 

Half way to 18. 

Half way through childhood. 

Those memories of their babyhood and toddler years seem like a while ago now; but still they don't feel so long ago... not as long ago as I feel like they should feel. 

The memories are still there, like I could walk back into them. 

And how could this be? All those long days that seemed so overwhelming and never-ending are now just a a few brief lines in our family story. 

So how do I hang on to these moments that seem to be slipping through my hand like sand? 

As I mentioned in a previous blog, John and I have transitioned from gift-giving to experiencing giving, and my hope is that this defines these next years. 

Evelyn has embraced this mentality as well, and she wanted to plan a fun experience for her brothers as a gift to them. Evelyn has never been one to spend her money on herself; she is and has always found the most joy in delighting those she loves with gifts. With the spirit of providing experiences, she came to John and I with an idea of surprising her brothers with an adventure weekend to the coast for her gift. She said she wanted to give all her money to rent a beach house so her brothers could spend the weekend metal detecting and treasure hunting, something they love to do at the coast.

We helped her find the right little beach cottage for a weekend in March; she soon realized that although  this gift could be totally her heart, she would need some financial help from Mom and Dad. ;) 

Evelyn decided that the delivery of the this gift also had to be a production.

 On her own she created a treasure hunt around the house, culminating at an X in the backyard where she buried a treasure box in the earth containing a metal spoon (So the boys' metal detector would beep) Also inside the treasure box was a scroll containing all the details of the whimsical adventure she has planned for them. 

I'm not sure what the boys were more excited about: unearthing a box in the backyard before the sun came up or their fun future adventure at the beach!                                                 

I also baked them a cake and we ate it for breakfast, because why not?! :) 

Birthdays are for celebrating, so my mentality has always been drop everything, clear the schedule and eat cake and celebrate! 

The last nine years have been a season of growing up, and I'm not talking about only the boys. 

My own growing pains have been excruciating at moments. My thirties were marked by the drudgery of caring for so many little humans, the loss and then redefining of my role and identity, and recognizing what truly is most important in my life.   The things I once thought to be most important I now realize are only like the sand running through my fingers, like those moments that I try to feverishly grasp on to and pin to my heart. 

The hard things in life are actually the best things. 

  

These years, with my family, raising my children: this is the treasure. 

John always says that God answers prayers how we would if we could see the whole story and if we knew 

ourselves completely. 

I'm so grateful that I wasn't in charge of answering my own prayers. 

 

 

Adult Priced Hair...and ALL the Things to start out 2023

 It's the new year and I/we are trying to get the house in order.

 My days since the kids have been back at school have been consumed by organizational projects and purging items from our over stuffed house. Good Will and I have a reciprocal relationship: I put in my fair share of items for sure; but recently, I've also discovered the wonderful secret of buying my boys' winter coats there. 

You see, for many years I have been frustrated by the cycle of buying them warm, expensive, brand new winter coats... only to have them lose them😖. 

Upset and frustrated when they lose yet another coat, I vow not to but them another (in order to teach them a lesson); however, I then am consumed extreme "Mom guilt" as I watch them exit the car in the morning off to school without one. 

And so the cycle starts again.😞

 I do take comfort in that I'm not the only mom who  deals with the constant lack of responsibility from the kids and their things. Our school's "lost and found" rack is always overflowing with coats and sweatshirts, enough to open up a small store. 

Whenever I go into school, my ritual is to check the rack; and sure enough, I almost always find something from someone. Often times if it is their coat, I will walk it to their classroom and hang it on their hook; I feel like the "coat fairy; what must they think when they go out to recess and they suddenly have their coat hanging by their name tag?!!! .... but I suppose that's what Moms do. 😏Every few months the school gets overwhelmed by the amount of lost and found coats. They give fair warning to the parents that they have limited time to check the rack, otherwise everything will be donated. There are some nice things on that rack, and I had the revelation that the Good Will is getting some pretty nice coats! And that is when the idea hit me: I need to buy my boys' their coats at Good Will. 

Sure enough, as I entered the store, I found beautiful, hardly worn, name brand coats for 90% less than they would cost at full price! And John says, if they lose them at school, we can just go to Good Will and buy them back again! 😂Brilliant! It's truly a win-win situation for everyone, and I will never buy my boys' coats anywhere else ever again. 

They might we irresponsible with their coats, but they are responsible at getting their homework done every night. Evelyn thinks it's unfair that they can do it together....the benefit of being a triplet and in the same class.

Speaking of losing things, we got the dreaded blue envelope in the mail from the Tualatin Library indicating that we have failed to turn in a book, and thus it is considered LOST, resulting in a payment slip. Caleb knows it's his book and his fault. The price is minimal, about $5.00. As he lay in bed last night he said to me, "Don't worry Mom. I'm going to pay that bill. I think I have a tooth somewhere in my backpack that I never turned in to the tooth fairy, so I'll do that sometime this week and then give you the money." 😇

Coat Fairy-Tooth Fairy...Perhaps I'm not teaching my kids about real life; someday will they expect their "tax fairy" too?!?

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Evelyn came to me asking about a haircut. She has this long, thick flowing hair now and so I've been getting it cut at a "real adult salon" for the past two years.  

When I called to make the appointment, they informed me that since she is now 11 years old, she would have to be charged adult prices. Appalled, I told the person on the phone "no thank you," and hung up, determined to find another place to get a child's cut. However, as I called around I soon found out similar situations: child prices stop at age 10. 

And so, I sheepishly called back the salon, (which actually turned out had the most reasonable prices) and remade the appointment. 

When I took her after school, a young, peppy, stylish woman greeted us and swooped Evelyn back to her chair, informing me I could wait "there", pointing to a comfy seat in the waiting room.

 I bid farewell and took my seat, opening my book. It was difficult for me to concentrate on my reading because I could hear this incessant chatter from the chair, which was distracting me. It was indeed my daughter and the stylist talking about life together like they were old friends catching up. 

And it wasn't just a one way conversation. I overhead Evelyn asking questions to the stylist about her life, her child and her career, like a little adult!

 I looked out the window and it was getting dark. 

The time told me we'd been there an hour now. 

I looked back and the blow dryer was going and there was laughter from the two of them. What the heck are they talking about all this time? My curiosity was piqued. 

Another 15 minutes passed. 20. 

I texted John. "can you start dinner? Evelyn is still getting her hair done."

The curling iron came out, and they both had a look in mind that they were trying to create on Evelyn's conditioned, shiny tresses. 

After finally emerging from the chair after a full 1 hour and 30 minutes, her hair was transformed into quite the masterpiece. 

"Your daughter looks gorgeous," I texted to John. 

"I'm not ready to have this conversation." He texted back. 

As I paid the bill, I realized that yes, Evelyn indeed required adult pricing. It was more than appropriate. 

The stylist and Evelyn smiled at each other. "Mom, I've found my stylist. I told her she's going to be my stylist forever as long as I live here," she announced to me proudly.

I don't think she realizes what a true gift it is to find "your stylist" at this age. I'm 40 and still nomadic when it comes to someone cutting my hair. 

"She's just the best!" Evelyn said, beaming. 

The young lady laughed and said, "Well you are my all time favorite client." 

Oh my goodness. I couldn't believe this! There was a BFF bond between my daughter and her stylist. 

"Looking forward to seeing you next time!" The young lady waved at Evelyn as we left. 

"Mom,"  Evelyn said as we got into the car, "her birthday is April 4, so I'm going to get her something and drop it off. I have to write down her birthday so I don't forget."

I looked over at her. "So Evelyn,  your hair looks great.... but what exactly did you like so much about her?" I asked with sincere interest. 

Evelyn looked at me, "She actually talked to me, Mom. She didn't treat me like I was invisible, but she talked to me like a person." 

Wow, that was profound, yet so simple. 

"She treated me like a person."

Yes, Evelyn, you will love being an adult.

Well the school year is flying by and I get a bit panicked when I think about it being just about half way through. John and I have made a commitment to buy less and Do more with our kids. We feel the urgency of soaking in these precious years. 

Evelyn at age 11 is apparently an adult now with adult friendships, and the boys, well, as soon as they stop losing their coats, will be more manly as well. 

One of the gifts we wanted to give our kids was a special experience with their dad. As I wrote about in my last entry, Evelyn and John had a magical time in NYC over Christmas. 

The boys, however, embarked on their "dude experience" with John last weekend at a 49ers game in San Fransisco. 

Waking early on Sunday morning, the guys flew out at 8 am and spent the day cheering on the "good guys," who crushed their opponent (which made the game even more enjoyable). 

My heart smiles when I look at these pictures. 

And I look forward to all this year is going to bring.

 

Unexpected Christmas 2022

 Since Halloween night, James started a family countdown to our Illinois Christmas trip. 

It is a pilgrimage we anticipate and plan for, every other year. 

                              

 A snowy, white Christmas nestled around my parent's fireplace. 

Christmas Day, surrounded by relatives and cookies and gifts. 

Christmas 2022! This was the year! 

There is strategic planning when we do Christmas across the country, with wrapping and transporting  gifts there and back again.... 

There is the task of  animal care, of getting the house secured for the week, and packing bulky winter clothes in suitcases. 

There is a lot of preparation, but it is worth it to see aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents and great grandma. 

We bought our plane tickets early this year, and everyone in Illinois was preparing for and anticipating our visit.  We were proud that we finally planned ahead and bought the tickets when prices were reasonable and seats were open. 

However, a week or so before Christmas, John came to me with a dilemma. Traveling often for work, he realized that he was several thousand miles short of "status" for the upcoming year. Now if you travel, you understand how important it is to achieve this benchmark; it comes with a lot of small comforts and perks that make a huge difference when in the air and in airports. The benefits even trickle down to the family, getting free checked bags and often times upgrades in seating. We both agreed he should try to get his few remaining miles in before the end of the year, somehow, someway. 

One cross continental flight should do it, but the thought of going on a solo trip without purpose wasn't very exciting. Surely there was a way to accrue his miles and use it for something. And then a magnificent idea came to mind: A daddy-daughter "business trip" with Evelyn to celebrate her 11th birthday. 

Evelyn was having trouble figuring out what she wanted to do for her birthday this year. Being so close to Christmas, it's always hard to know what to get her. 

This idea solved three issues: The miles, the celebration and the gift.

Plus is allowed John to share a once in a life time special trip with his only daughter. 

Enamored by the Rockafeller Christmas tree in the movies, John decided to make this dream a reality: New York  City, here they come!

The plan was set. The timing would be tight. With school schedules and other commitments, plus our trip to Chicago, they would leave on Wednesday Dec. 21 and fly back to Portland late on Friday Dec. 23. Meanwhile, I would pack up the house and take care of everything so we could depart for Chicago early on Saturday, December 24. 

The plan started out blissful. I received text after text, and pictures and pictures of John and Evelyn traipsing around NYC, taking in sights such as the Statue of Liberty and Times Square. They even saw the broadway play Wicked. 

And then the weather rolled in. On Friday Dec. 23 I woke up in Portland to a sheet of ice on all the roads and some snow on the ground. 

The boys were estatic as they hauled out their saucer sleds from the garage and spent the day speeding down the ice hills by our house, flipping over curbs and crashing into rocks. The ice certainly entertained them, which was a plus because I was focused on getting everything ready for our departure the next morning.

 

 I dropped off the guinea pigs at the neighbors and I cautiously drove the mile to PetsMart to check in Lucy. But I had an ominous, uneasy feeling as I started getting text messages from several friends wondering about my flight, telling me that flights were totally cancelled at PDX. 

Then I got the phone call from John in NYC. 

Their flight was cancelled coming home. 

Quick thinking put John and Evelyn on a flight Christmas morning directly to Chicago. They would simply meet us there instead of flying back to Portland. This seemed like a great plan, whew!.... but I was still unsettled in  my heart. I wouldn't be relaxed until we were actually on the plane. 

The next morning I woke up at 4:00 am and checked our flight. The streets were slushy now, not icey. And our flight was still on schedule to leave, although delayed an hour. 

Suitcases packed, gifts wrapped, house locked up, we greeted my father- in -law as he came at 5:30 am to pick up the boys and me and take us to the airport. 

Upon arriving, I was not prepared for what I walked into. There were lines of people everywhere and mazes of suitcases. I had two huge suitcases I was pulling, plus my carry on and Evelyn's violin( I promised I bring to Chicago so she could play Christmas carols for the relatives) 

The boys followed close behind me, each pulling their own little suitcase and backpack. I started to sweat as I navigated the airport, squeezing between people and winding around crowds. I felt a little better dropping my suitcases off, getting through security, and making it to my gate. 

I looked outside. It was grey and misty. One loan de-icer made its way around to the lined up planes on the tarmac. 

We boarded. 

Ok, it's a go, I thought. 

We took our seats. The boys turned on their computers as we waited to take off. 

And then the announcement: we were in line to be de-iced and it would take about an hour for our turn. 

So we sat, and waited; but I was grateful we were going.

They counted down. 

Finally, it was our turn; we were number one in line to de ice and take off. One step closer. 

But then a pause. 

A long pause. 

"Folks, the ice is forming faster than we can take care of it. We are going to need to go back to the gate. We will be delayed. We are not sure how long. Feel free to get off the plane." 

The boys were frustrated because we had already been waiting for over two hours on the tarmac. They were hungry and anxious to leave. We took our things and ran to the nearest McDonalds to get some food. The self ordering kiosks gave me trouble as I was already stressed by the lines of hungry people forming behind me. We waited for our food, and waited...and then I got the text: Cancelled. This terrible word. 

I have PTSD about the word CANCELLED>this word still gives me a pit in my stomach after living through those horrible Covid years when so many things ended up this way. 

Cancelled. What to do!? 

Chaos. My ordered food had still not come, but now I felt the panic of needing to go somewhere to figure out what to do next. 

John called me from NYC and being the seasoned, wise traveler, he directed me to run back through security to the front of the airport and wait in the line there to figure out my options. 

 When we got our bag of food and drinks, I told the boys it was "go time" and they needed to jog behind me as we made our way back through the airport. 

 We went as fast as we could, the boys running behind me balancing drink trays and food and violins, through the airport to the entrance and found our place in a line that was already wrapped around the perimeter.

 I didn't know what to do. 

I didn't know what to say. 

John, the expert traveller usually handles all these matters but I was alone, with my three boys.

 I did the only thing I could do, stand in a line. 

The boys made a little pow wow near me and ate their hamburgers. Strangers saved my spot in line so I could take them to the bathroom. People were tired, angry, frustrated, confused.  But there was a camaraderie because everyone was stuck together. 

When I got up to the counter after an hour or two, I learned that there was nothing they could do. All the flights for the day were cancelled with no flights going out to Chicago until the 28th. And John couldn't get home to Portland now until 26th. In an instant, all my holiday plans and hopes were changed. I asked for a refund for my tickets. And after a little tear, I composed myself, turned around and faced my boys to share our new plans. 

We needed to find our bags and go home. 

Their emotions and disappoint was raw. I had to stay strong for them, so I made began to recite all the good things, and explained how "God is in control" and what wonderful, blessed lives we live! 

I explained that Santa would still come tonight, and Lucy would be awfully excited to not have to spend Christmas alone. 

After finding my suitcase, (which I was a bit stressed about considering it had all the Christmas magic wrapped inside of it) my wonderful father in law picked us back up from the airport, and we were dropped off at home again. 

The whole day felt like a dream. 

But I had to keep up the Christmas magic and merriment for my boys. 

We played games, bought a big half-priced chocolate Christmas cake at the store and went on an evening walk looking up in the sky for signs of Santa.

 The boys made an encampment below my bed, insisting that we all sleep in the same room. 

And I did Christmas. 

We had Dominos pizza and watched football. 

I was very aware in these moments that the boys were taking cues from me as to how they should respond to the disappointment and change in Christmas plans.

 If I was frustrated and mad and sad, they would be that way. If I was joyful, grateful and fun, they would be that way. 

James took so many pictures on my phone of evidence of Santa and his reindeers. Here are some foot steps on our deck.

We had the excitement of Christmas morning; John and Evelyn joined us on FaceTime. We had cinnamon rolls and opened games and toys (that had too many parts to figure out and put together alone) 

We went to Walgreens to get batteries and built legos. 

In the afternoon we went to a friend's house for appetizers and wine. In the evening, it was dinner at my in laws. 

The boys were joyful. 

And it was the Christmas that wasn't, but actually Was. 

It was just different than expected. 

And yet this was another lesson in life: we can make our plans and manipulate our life to turn out how we want it to turn out. But ultimately, some things are out of our control and it's the attitude and how you bounce back and carry on that make the difference.

 And it truly all begins with gratefulness. 

John and Evelyn spent Christmas at a Jewish bagel shop and in a hotel by the airport in New York. The boys and I looked for evidence of Santa and were loved by friends and family at home. 

It was a different Christmas, but it was an experience that builds character.

 My kids have a great life, and if this helps them learn disappointment and flexibility, so be it. It certainly won't be the last time their plans will fall through. 

We were all reunited finally late Monday night and the frenzy of wrapping paper  and gifts from the siblings gift exchange brought tears to my eyes. To see my family whole again and to see my children loving each other, there is nothing better.