why are you here

"I think I'm going to become a stay-at-home mom," I declared to a few people this morning. Some of them were puzzled, while others some could relate to my sentiments. What does it mean, anyway, to be a "stay-at-home" parent?

Whatever prompted it, I'm back in a season of critically thinking about my life and purpose. Perhaps it's the feeling that life is zipping by at an unparalleled pace. Or the words of a mentor earlier this week, reminding me that I really won't remember all of these details of life, and it's worth a few seconds to write (or blog) them down. Perhaps it's that I'm working part-time and bringing home a small income. Or maybe it was the rush of happiness I got when I cancelled out of a meeting this morning to stay home and bake cookies with my 4 year old.

In any case, I set out to enjoy my job today. I made my family a good breakfast. We walked to school in the morning, taking in the autumn crispness and good exercise. I made oatmeal-raising-craisin-chocolate-chip cookies with Obi-2, and sat down to write stories with him. After taking Obi-2 to pre-K, I joined Obi-1 in the cafeteria for lunch (a weekly tradition we've started on the day I volunteer in his class). He's always happy to see me, as are many of his friends, who scoot over on their little bench so I can sit with them. I smiled, thinking warmly of the impact stay-at-home parents can make in the little (and big) lives around them.

And then I faced the honest inquisition and quit wit of kindergartners. Over our sandwiches, the kid across the table looked at me, squinted his eyes, and said, "Why are you always here?" Conversation stopped at the table. Earnest little eyes stared up at me, eager for an answer. I searched for the right, concise reply to show them that they are loved and valuable, even to those who aren't paid to spend time with them. In the moment I paused to think, an answer rang out beside me.

"Because she doesn't have a job."

Ouch. The words may have come from a 5-year-old, but they stung with the fortitude of looks, back-handed compliments, and outright criticisms I have received from so many adults. All of the challenges in articulating what I do started to creep in and spoil my day. I reeled, and meekly replied, "this is part of my job."

It didn't matter. The darling girl next to my son had answered the question to everyone's satisfaction. Everybody, that is, except me. In an effort to force myself to have a sense of humor, I texted her quip to my husband and a couple friends (who were all at work). Surely this would prove funny to me in the future.

My phone rang with a message; a friend whose marriage is struggling needed an ear for a couple minutes. Without noticing that this, too, is part of my work, I excused myself from the rest of lunch and stepped out to take the call. After volunteering my Friday evening to help with childcare for their family, I returned to help in the kindergarten classroom, sounding out words like "car" and "green" with children who struggled to stay seated around their little tables. Later, I moved into the pre-K class to draw circles of glue and shake glitter over shape cutouts.

All the while, I felt a bit deflated, like I wasn't sure it mattered as much as the time of somebody working in a cubicle or corner office. Why was I here? Wasn't I busy with real work? Didn't I have something to do?

All of my answers seemed hollow, and I was stewing over it because a 5-year-old said I didn't have a job. Well, that, and because so many friends, family, and perfect strangers have said or implied the same.

After school, I headed to the car with the boys and checked my phone. I realized I had missed a reply from my husband, shortly after I sent him that little boy's question and little girl's reply. It just took a moment, and I smiled with tears. He gets me and my job, even when I don't.

So kid, why am I there all the time?

"because she loves her kids so much that she'd rather be with them in a noisy cafeteria than do anything else for any amount of money."

noah's wife

In the familiar story of Noah, his wife's name is never mentioned. She's just "Noah's wife." In our house, we call her "Yesah." Anyway, I've been thinking about her a lot today.

First, in case you missed the news, we got a dog this weekend. He's a lovely 5-year-old spaniel and wonderfully laid-back... a good fit for us. Oh, and yes, Wesley is a "HE" dog, so I'm even more outnumbered. Last night, Mr. Kenobi and I were day-dreaming about buying a house in the country, where our kids (and dog) could run around outside and I'd have a big vegetable garden and lots and lots of wonderful "farm" animals, like chickens, sheep and maybe a cow.

We smiled wistfully at the thoughts of a farm house... a rambling road to our place... wood-burning fires and home-canned jams... me knitting and baking whole-grain breads and planning out homeschool lessons. The boys making tree-houses and fishing in the creek. Mr. Kenobi chopping firewood and tossing hay into the barn, just like Pa Ingalls. Everyone just happy as can be.

Ahem... back to reality today.

I have two mouse traps set, one on each side of my piano. I also have a bruised finger from getting it caught in not one, not two, but three snaps of the trap. Thanks to Mr. Kenobi for talking me through the process over his cell phone, as I cursed at that stupid trap and thought about selling the house. He kindly offered to come home from work, but I really didn't want to wait (and risk that mouse going anywhere else). I will, however, definitely let him do the "man's work" of taking the (hopefully single, dead) mouse out of our house after he gets home. Please pray that it does its work.

The fact that I'm only setting traps at 11 am is a bit disconcerting, considering I thought I saw a black flash on the floor when I was nursing the baby several hours ago. I tried to look around, but figured I must have just had a weird angle from the side of my glasses and a reflection. Not sure how long this visitor has been in our home, but I'm going to try not to think about it.

Oh wait - life even gets better...

Obi-2, Wesley, and I went out the front door (Obi-3 is sleeping upstairs) to play a bit in front of our house. Turns out Wesley is definitely a cat-chaser, and Bill (the spunky cat next door, in a house approximately 25 feet from ours) is not excited about the new neighbor. Perhaps I can plant daisies in my garden instead of forks next year? Wesley practically tore my shoulder out, so we went back inside.

As I turned on the front hall light switch, I saw a swarm (yes, swarm) of ants crawling all over the front wall (inside) of our house. One is even inside a picture frame. How does this happen!?!? They are covering the soccer ball, the shoes, the bench. It's disgusting. I sprayed down and cleaned everything with tea-tree oil cleaner and baking soda, which is supposedly toxic to ants. All of this while trying to keep silent so as not to spook the mouse out from the piano, and keep Obi-2 from opening the door (thus letting more ants in, and Wesley out to find Bill). I scrubbed the front hall walls, then the floors, and I'm still not confident that this is over.

I'm not sure I can stay in my own home today, even though it's pouring and forecasted to keep raining all week. If one more animal invades my space, I may turn in MY resignation. :-)

obi-1 goes to kindergarten

When Obi-1 was born, I received and read a lot of advice. Today, a couple snippets stood out in my memory. This, from a well-referenced author:

"...studies have shown that toddlers who have a secure attachment to their mother tend to adapt easier to new play situations and play more independently..." (Dr. Sears on attachment parenting)

And this, from a good family friend:

"...encourage your child to have other people involved in his life. It will be a blessing to both of them and create a well-rounded young person in your family..."

I received this advice with skeptical ears. Obi-1 was the baby who would cry if I left the room or even set him down. I wondered if I'd ever have a moment - day or night - apart from him. My adjustment to motherhood had many speed bumps, and I felt awkward and tired, trying to balance my own identity with a baby who didn't want to leave my arms.

Today, he was the boy I could hardly keep up with as he ran down the hall into kindergarten.

It's the First Day of School. It's been on our calendar, and now it's arrived. It's a day full of squeaky new sneakers, freshly cut hair, and a new lunchbox. A chance to sit at a new table with friends, new and old. A start with a teacher who has a soft and kind voice and has raised boys of her own. A return to a school we love and a principal who always seems freshly caffeinated and ready with a smile and high-five.

All summer, Obi-1 has been so excited for the all-day program at this wonderful little neighborhood school. As the months sped by, he got more and more eager to get into class. He hasn't quit smiling when he thinks about it. While he woke up early and dressed in the outfit he'd set aside last night, I took advantage of a little quiet time to get my spirit prepared for this day. I'm excited for Obi-1's excitement, but if I'm honest, I'm also sad to see him head into classes every day, all day.

For six years, I've been the primary teacher in his life. In the deepest parts of my heart, I'd love to homeschool. However, the more shallow parts of me know I can't do everything well, and I don't want to put my child in a little experiment when it's neither needed nor wanted. So, I am thankful that we have a good school and teachers to influence him in this season.

Today we packed a lunch, ate breakfast, and walked to school. Obi-1 went skipping and running, talking about all of the wonderful things he looks forward to in kindergarten. Obi-2, running to keep up, was excited to start Pre-K later today (which is, in itself, an exciting first!). And I, MamaToo, was pushing Obi-3 in a stroller and grabbing my camera to capture the memory.

happy birthday obi-1

All he could think of wanting for his birthday was a party at the park (“the one with the rose gardens and soccer fields”), with Eddie’s Pizza and carrot cupcakes. He imagined a party with his best friends and family in attendance, and everyone playing games outside and loving his cupcakes.

His best friend moved to St. Louis this summer, and for the first time ever, won’t be at Obi-1’s birthday celebration. A few additional friends and grandparents are out of town for the Labor Day weekend, and others can only come if the party is early in the day.

So, we scheduled the party for lunchtime.

Eddie’s Pizza doesn’t open until late afternoon.

So, we found an alternative pizza place.

I promised I’d make the cupcakes myself. I may have accidentally doubled the amount of carrots required for the recipe.

He declared he prefers carrot muffins better, anyway.

And, today we woke up to pouring rain, which is supposed to continue all day long.

So we’re having the party in the pizzeria, where kickball and water-fights won’t be part of the celebration.

Though this sixth birthday seems to launch my baby ever closer to independence, many of his own ideas for the day have not come to pass. He could be mopey. I could be mopey. But instead, we’ve figured out each challenge together and come up with alternatives. We’ve prioritized and re-prioritized as a team. The process of planning a celebration reminds me of how much older he - and I - are getting. I am proud of him for the maturity and grace he’s shown at every turn. He’s transforming in front of my eyes, and I can hardly blink because I know how quickly time passes.

There are many “firsts” for the firstborn. Next week, we’ll enter a new season as Obi-1 starts kindergarten. The baby who could never go more than a couple hours without me will be with classmates all day, every day. The child who has ushered me into motherhood will continue to propel us into the grade-school years. I still think of him as a little boy, but even that is quickly changing. In his eyes and words are hints of a young man - charming and smart, thoughtful and loving. The infant who wanted nothing more than his mother’s constant hold is giving me a hug and rushing off into childhood.

So as I enter a day full of “other” plans, I hope both he and I can enjoy some moments of sheer celebration. May memories be sweeter than preparations. Happy Birthday, Obi-1.

I love you,

MamaToo

there's a vegetable in my cookie

Each summer, I seem to post a few new ways to use zucchini. Why? Well, if you're asking, you don't grow zucchini. Anyone with one (or more) zucchini plants is bound to start looking for ways to use the gignormous produce that can surprise and overwhelm an urban farmer. Hence, there are literally thousands of zucchini recipes, often including my favorite ingredient: chocolate. This is one of them (passed on to me by a friend, who made a few modifications before sharing, and then I made my own). I'm not sure where the original is found.

Chocolate Zucchini Cookies

INGREDIENTS
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour (I substituted whole-wheat pastry flour, which is just as good)
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 3/4 cups grated zucchini (after making two batches, I liked it better when the zucchini was "pureed" in a food processor & drained, but both are good)
1 C chocolate chipes

DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Grease cookie sheets.

In a medium bowl, cream together the butter, white sugar and brown sugar until smooth. Beat in the egg and vanilla.

Separately, combine the flour, cocoa, baking soda and salt; gradually stir into the creamed mixture. Fold in the grated zucchini. Gently mix in the chocolate chips.

Drop by rounded spoonfuls onto the prepared cookie sheets.

Bake for 8 to 10 minutes in the preheated oven. Allow cookies to cool on baking sheet for 5 minutes before removing to a wire rack to cool completely.

o mama where art thou

So, it seems I have fallen away from updating this little spot of internet. Guilt could overrun me, but there is so much going on that I can hardly take the time to feel guilty. Here's a sampling of what has kept me from blogging lately...

Gardening.

We officially have a garden this year, and it's actually producing veggies! Our lot is quite shady, with many trees. As nice as that is to hide out from the heat, it has made growing sun-loving veggies nearly impossible. In years past, I planted tomatoes in pots, hoping to keep them in the sunshine to ripen. I ended up hauling them around to different spots in the morning and afternoon, finally moving them to my neighbors' yard! This year, in a final attempt to grow my favorites, I talked Mr. Kenobi into a planter box in the one consistently sunny area of backyard. Then, we talked our neighbor into letting us trim her maple tree back so that more morning sun could get to our spot. Last week, I hauled several tomatoes over to her in appreciation!

We have lots of tomatoes, peppers, zucchini, cucumbers, peas, pole beans, and a large herb garden, and harvest season has begun!

Projects.

When my parents came out to meet Obi-3 and visit us, my dad (Papa) helped Mr. Kenobi reconfigure our deck and build new stairs. Mr. Kenobi then stripped the whole thing, and we've nearly finished staining it. Before, the deck was basically a large pass-through to the yard, and I couldn't see the kids if I was inside. Now, our deck has become an elevated part of our small landscape, and flows right out the backyard for fun times I can oversee while making dinner!

Dad also taught me to spray paint while he was here, and I'm just a bit more crafty now! At only a month into his little life, Obi-3 slept for over an 8-hour stretch. It was the first time since early pregnancy that I'd had such a nice night sleep! I woke up so energized that I pulled out two sets of chairs we'd stopped using, setup a little shop in the backyard, and began painting. Now I have "new" chairs, and we're in process of finishing the wooden seats for the white ones so that set will sit on our "new" deck.

Running Around.

With capital letters, no less. I signed the boys up for swimming lessons, which are every day around noon. It is a lot of running, but they're loving it and I'm happy to see them really learning to swim. In one summer, they've gone from reluctant to get their faces splashed to full-on crawl strokes and easy floating. Meanwhile, I sit by the side of the pool with baby Obi, and chat with other parents I would never have met otherwise.

In addition, to go with that fresh produce from our yard, we've done lots of fruit picking at local farms. Strawberries, blueberries, a few raspberries, and even peaches - and the jams, frozen fruit, and pies to go with them! Picking is all within a few miles of home, and yet so rural you can really feel like you've traveled far.

Receiving.

This is the hardest part, quite frankly. Nearly all of my summer has been filled with receiving grace, help, meals, and love from others. Why is that so hard?!? We had meals delivered for nearly a month after Obi-3 was born. We have had parties planned and hosted to celebrate our family. We've had, (as mentioned), neighbors and family help us create backyard space to enjoy together. Friends have taken the noisy older boys (another post entirely) so that I could relax, take a nap, or return to staff meetings.

Reflecting.

Honestly, it's overwhelming to receive such help. At times, I just want to be self-sufficient. I want to be able to do everything myself. To have it "together," whatever that looks like. To make fantastic homemade meals with fresh produce, and sit on freshly redone furniture in a sparkling house, and have everyone smiling after every day. I'd like to do it all, do it well, and do it all myself. It seems I'm not much better than a toddler when I think about it that way!

Truth is, I don't have it together. There are mornings that getting everyone - including myself - breakfast is a major accomplishment. There are moments when I am filled with frustration at young behavior, and have to remind myself that my children need a lot of help and grace, too. There are days when I sit down and cry because it's harder than I thought it would be to be a mama of three. There are evenings when I reflect on something from the day and think, "I should really blog this."

Some things can only be done by me, like feeding Baby Obi, blogging, or sleeping. So I think, "blog, or sleep?" And the answer to that - well, you can tell from the post lists around here... Thanks for understanding.

Love,

MamaToo