A favorite line on mothering from Peter Pan:

It is the nightly custom of every good mother after her children are asleep to rummage in their minds and put things straight for the next morning, repacking into their proper places the many articles that have wandered during the day. If you could keep awake (but of course you can’t) you would see your own mother doing this, and you would find it very interesting to watch her. It is quite like tidying up drawers. You would see her on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some of your contents, wondering where on earth you had picked this thing up, making discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing this to her cheek as if it were as nice as a kitten, and hurriedly stowing that out of sight. When you wake in the morning, the naughtinesses and evil passions with which you went to bed have been folded up small and placed at the bottom of your mind, and on the top, beautifully aired, are spread out your prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on.

I was able to do this out loud for Ada last night. She was quite distraught at bedtime, as the best of the dramatic 7 year-olds are bound to be.

Ada, crying: “I just have this weird feeling, like, when I get to Heaven I’m not going to find it fun or enjoyable. And it just makes me feel so baaaaaad!” More crying.

Me, summarized: “Ada, you’re just a little girl. You couldn’t possibly imagine what Heaven is going to be like. And God knows that. He’s your Good Father who loves you. But even if you can’t imagine what Heaven will be like, can you trust Him when He says it will be good? If you can trust Him, even when you don’t fully understand, then you are doing everything He asks. You don’t have to stress out about it. He isn’t worried that you don’t have it all figured out.”

And it worked. Worries smoothed. I love being a mom.

. . . hardly feels like work at all!

I love discoveries like this. When I was loading photos onto my computer from the camera, I found several I hadn’t taken myself. Either Ada or Jesse took this photo one morning while I was still off-camera getting ready for the day.

Our mornings don’t always run this smoothly, but on this particular occasion, as is as likely to happen as not, Dan sat down at the piano and gave the girls a dancing tune. Can you see the pure joy and abandonment in Macy’s spin here? Even in a school uniform!

Don’t you wish you had a Daddy who played live music for you every morning so you could dance your way out the door?

Oh, wait, maybe you do. Maybe we all do, if only we’d listen.

What kind of music do you hear in your morning routine? And does it make you dance?

Yesterday afternoon I received one of the best text messages ever:

“Hey. I want to take you on a date tonight. I have a babysitter and everything covered. I’ll pick you up at 4:30.”

I said yes.

It has admittedly been awhile since we’ve had a real date. A kid-free night out. No grocery shopping allowed.

We ate out someplace new – in patio seating! And then he took me shopping.

Since March – when Dan saw pictures of himself in swimming trunks – we’ve been working on a little weight loss project. Crazy enough, it is totally working. Weight Watchers has been our guide, but the most important factor has been the two of us working together. Sharing ideas for “cheap” meals (if you know WW, you know that doesn’t mean monetarily anymore) and encouraging each other after bad weigh-ins. It hasn’t happened fast but we feel pretty accomplished. In fact, Dan wanted to take me shopping so I could pick up a few new things to fit my new size.

There’s still more work to do – so far I’ve lost my 15 simply by eating less (Dan’s lost nearly 30). Exercise is next on the list. But last night it was nice to be spoiled. Loved. Celebrated. All by the person I love the most.

Thanks, Babe!

And thanks to our friend Ramy and his wife, Tiffany, for the encouragement and ideas for d8-Night! Her blog has fantastic go-to ideas for date nights, if you need help. Or call Dan – he’s really good at this!

This guy:

Ten years ago on the evening of July 4th, I snuggled my brand new baby boy and watched fireworks out the hospital windows. His soft white cap was tied together at the top with red, white, and blue ribbons. Jesse was just hours old, born at 9 a.m. on his due date. I don’t know when my emotions have been as settled and as content as they were that night.

Every year since then, while others are jumping and cheering and lighting explosives, I prefer to sit back and watch. (Not a fan of the explosives, to be honest. I was the kid either watching the fireworks show from behind the living room window or holding a sparkler as far from my body as possible when forced to participate.) We celebrate our nation’s birth with all things loud, bright, and flashy. I love it because it could never be too much of a commemoration, but I also don’t mind NOT being the one shooting things off or setting them on fire. I did that 10 years ago and now it seems like those explosions are going to be over way too soon if I don’t take the time to soak in the view.

That’s why I enjoy a baseball game, even in the summer heat, where I turn off my phone and refuse to bring anything else to distract me. It’s why last night Jesse and I had our own date. We chose a movie he wanted to see and I watched him laugh at all the gross parts. We ate fast food and ice cream. When we had to do some practical stuff on the date – grocery shopping – I let him pick the sugary yogurt and special edition Pop-Tarts. I was only slightly traumatized when we also took turns sniffing deodorant until he found the perfect scent for his first purchase of manhood.

I know life is full of fun things to do and exciting, flashy pursuits, but for me sometimes the best way to celebrate is just to watch. Take a seat in a sagging lawn chair and enjoy the view. It changes fast and it’s over before you know it. I want to make sure the performer can hear my ahh’s and oooo’s from where he shines.

Happy Birthday to my Yankee Doodle Dandy!

On the evening before the new school year opened, we asked each of the kids if they would share with us two things we could pray about for them during the next day. Their requests were full of the usual kid-sized pleas for obedience, fun, and good-ness.

Macy contributed an honest, “About being shy?” I didn’t know she was even aware of that as something to be overcome. She’s four years old. Since she’s come home both days with a grin from ear to ear and bouncing non-stop until bedtime, I’d say things are working out for her.

Jesse’s request was also general but genuine, “Just nervous about everything, I guess.” I didn’t think 5th grade would be much of a concern to him, but he’s expressed that thought more than once in the last few weeks.

Imagine my joy, then, when he came home after the first day full of hope and excitement. His teacher has given their room a Monopoly theme complete with locally named properties and special prizes (including a chance at a private plane ride). Jesse was all smiles. Every fear dissipated. My little boy back. At least for now.

If it’s possible, I feel even more thankful when someone takes care of my children than when they do something for me.

I suppose it’s similar for God. Bless mine, He says, and you bless me.

*Note about school: We’re year-rounders here. We get a three week break when it is time to switch grade levels (most of June) and then we’re back at it. We also get a one-week break about every six weeks, including extra time at Christmas. Just wanted to make sure you knew this wasn’t a re-post from last fall!

*Note about photo: That’s Jesse swinging on an artificial vine in the Jungle exhibit at the Henry Doorly Zoo in Omaha, NE.

Riding home yesterday from Claire’s check-up with her surgeon, I realized I’m becoming something of an expert at living with a child with mild cerebral palsy. For eight years now I have sat in small exam rooms while an information laden physician sits across from me on a short padded stool reviewing the most recent research on spasticity, high tone, dystonia, contracture, and other vocabulary words specific to Claire’s condition.

When I was dreaming of careers or areas of life I’d like to know more about as a young person, I don’t remember having cerebral palsy on that list. But eight years ago it took a place at the top when Claire was born prematurely and we were almost guaranteed at least some form of CP in our future.

Now here I am. It is so common to me, I often forget about her special needs until I see a struggle in her that the other girls don’t face or someone asks a question about why she walks the way she walks.

Last night at her tee-ball game, which we had rushed home (St. Louis is a three hour drive) to make, she was stopping grounders better than ever before. In the doctor’s office that day I had just mentioned her perseverance and love for the sport despite the fact that it was difficult for her to catch  with the mitt on her sluggish left hand. She has a way of defying me. As I inspected further, I realized she was using her strong right hand to literally pull down on her mitted left hand, forcing it to the ground in front of the softball rolling her way. She thought of that herself. I had decided she was just going to have to get used the ball rolling through her legs. She wasn’t ready to accept that.

Welcome to my world with Claire. Every time I think we’ve finally reached something she will have to give up, she proves me wrong. I thought Claire gave up dancing here – three years ago – and now we’re here – still at it!

So this is just one of the areas that I’ve become an unplanned expert. Others include leading kids in worship (from volunteering to lead songs when my son was a preschooler), spiritual disciplines (from taking over an orphaned course from a departing instructor), and hobby flower gardening (I don’t know where that one came from!).

How about you? Are you an unexpected expert in something? Do you think we have the responsibility to share our wealth of knowledge now or is this just the way life goes?

*Photo note: This is from last year’s season. This year I worked as an assistant coach (I’m good at bossing little girls around and bribing them to stay out of the dirt!) and there was NO TIME to get out the camera. Notice Claire is running right out of her shoe . . . that about sums up life with that girl! : )