beanski

dear renee

Four. That number seems so big and so small to me today. Small because you act like you’re so old sometimes but big because I still see you as my baby. Somehow, someway we managed to get to four and let me tell you, my girl, I am so incredibly proud of the little girl you have become.

You like to swing but only in the baby swing and only if you are the only person on the swing set and the other swing isn’t moving even an inch. You FLIP if it does and demand that I take you out immediately. That overly cautious sense you have? That’s ALL your dad. You hardly ever play with toys but instead choose to spend countless hours making up games usually involving cupcake wrappers or left-over ribbon or sometimes fabric from one of my sewing projects. A lot of people asked me what to buy you for your birthday this year and I was really at a loss. Your brother is easy as I can just say “anything with wheels” but you are different. You play different. You must have re-hidden and found the easter eggs at least 100 times and it got to the point where your dad and I would both groan when you even mentioned the word egg.

You still say aminals instead of animals and it makes me smile every single time. When I correct you, you tell me that you're right and I"m wrong. You put your pants on backwards sometimes in the morning and if I tell you to turn them around you snap at me "I like them like this" and I'll pick you up from preschool nine hours later and you'll still be wearing them backwards. Just to prove a point, I presume. You're stubborn and a bit of a know-it-all. I like that about you.

Your vocabulary has taken off dramatically and each time you learn a new word you spend a good deal of time practicing using it properly in a sentence. Like, we'll hear 14 variations of stories involving lying and when you're done with your story you'll look me straight in the eye and say "Mom, that's called lying and it isn't nice to lie." You like the word interesting and you'll say it at really hilarious times like "That's blue, that's interesting." You also use the word weird a lot. That comes from your father telling you to "quit being weird" when you're being a turkey. Someone at school must've told you that weird wasn't a nice word and I set the record straight once and for all on that one by telling you that your dad is one of the weirdest people I know and we still like him. Weird is good. Don't be normal, Renee. Normal is boring. "Boring, boring, boring, boring" [with an eye roll] is how you'd put it.

I complain a lot about you being a picky little eater but on the days when dad and I are frustrated because you and your brother just don’t seem to eat anything, I’ll stop and pay close attention to your plate as I’m putting it in the dishwasher. You always eat your fruit and your vegetables. Always. Sometimes your bread and your cheese and very, very rarely your meat. You only like meat that comes in the form of steak and prefer the filet mignon variety. Your dad beams with pride and makes sure to buy extra just for you when he's making it.

Your dad and I always talk about how we know we’re pushovers a lot of the time with you and how we know that we probably dote on you more than we should. I think we both know how fast this journey is going to go and at the end of the day the most important thing to us is that we manage to raise loving and empathetic kids. You are the epitome of loving and empathetic and I am so proud of that.

When I’m sad, you’re sad. When I’m happy or giddy or excited, so are you. You look to me for confidence when you’re in a new place, sometimes clinging to my legs and sometimes quietly asking me if it’s OK if you go and play. You always, always, always pick Mama when given the choice and Renee, I can’t tell you how much that means to me. My eyes well up with tears and I get that huge lump in my throat just thinking about it.

You get huge crocodile tears that you fight so hard to hold back when you see me from across a crowded room and, thanks to you, I know exactly how that feels. It’s how I feel when I see you include your brother in your make-believe games and just how I feel when I watch you sing a song at a school program. It’s an overwhelming emotion, this love we have. I don’t know if it is you being my first, or you being my girl, or just you being the sensitive little thing you are, or maybe the circumstances involving your early birth but I love you with such a profound sense of attachment and protection that it’s hard for me to describe. I watch you closer than other people watch their four year olds. I hold you closer than I probably should. There are days when I look at you and I love you so much that it scares me.

You have turned my own games around on me and now ask me as I’m tucking you in to bed at night “Mom, do you know how much I love you?” And I always smile and say, “I have no idea. How much?” And you always, always snuggle in as close to me as you can, kiss me on my shoulder and you get this sweet little look on your face like you know a secret I don’t and you say “Too much.”

I told you that every single night for almost four years and now you tell me. Too much pretty much sums it up.

Happy Fourth Birthday, my Moosh, my Rosie, my prettiest, my princess, my heart.
I love you too much.
Mama
 
1st year, 2nd year, 3rd year and today :)

i love my life

I think I'm starting to finally feel better. The only reason I think that this form of tired and overworked is better than last week's is that I actually had the energy to cook dinner twice in the last week. Twice! That is the stuff legends are made of. The kids were getting used to a piece of ham, some cheese, carrots and grapes for dinner and Ski ate a LOT of cereal while I laid on the couch and counted the minutes until I could go upstairs and climb into bed.

Renee had her first round of pink eye last week and all I'm going to say about that experience is that there has to be a better method of treatment than trying to convince a four year old to let you pry her eye open and put drops in it. I don't even blame her but GOOD LORD. She wasn't even willing to do it for candy and that kid? She'd do anything for candy. Anything except having drops put in her eyes apparently.

I've already been called "huge." I'm sixteen weeks pregnant. This can't be good.

I want to know if this baby is a girl or boy. Like TODAY. After not finding out with the other two, we are both convinced we want to know this time. I can't explain why but it has something to do with being super duper excited to decorate the nursery and to buy cute little onsies that aren't green or yellow. I think I am more excited this time than I was when I was pregnant with the other two, which is odd, but so much fun. We have a pretty solid boy name picked out and have thought it was a boy all along so if our past history of having the wrong type of name picked out and being totally wrong about the gender holds true, this baby must be a girl. We shall see in a few weeks.

We are getting ready to embark on what might be the craziest three weeks of our lives. It began today with daycare being closed for two consecutive weeks, a fourth birthday party in the middle with a bunch of family in town, a six day trip out of town for the 4th of July, ending with a camping trip involving a four year old, a two year old, a husband that doesn't really love the outdoors and a [huge] pregnant Mom in a tent on a remote island on Rainy Lake. We're talking no running water, no toilet, no nothing. The two year old in question is DESPARATELY AFRAID of bugs and has recently mastered the art of the two, almost three year old, tantrum.

Sound like fun?

I love my life.

(Oddly enough, that isn't even a sarcastic "I love my life." That is a "I honestly wouldn't have it any other way and am so incredibly excited for everything happening in life right now.")

awakening

I should be, oh, I don't know, cleaning the bathrooms or making water bottle labels for Renee's birthday party or taking an ever-loving nap (pregnancy insomnia rules) but when I read this, I stopped everything I was doing so that I could read and re-read these words. Thank-you, Carla, she who doesn't read this blog but she who brought these words to my attention..

The last year has been LIFE-CHANGING for me, for my family, for my marriage. I've spent a LOT of time reflecting, dreaming, figuring out what I want for this life. Not what I should want or what someone else wants but what I want. I've looked at how I treat my family and friends and I've thrown a lot of time and energy into the people who really matter to me. I've spent a lot of time cultivating my marriage, ensuring that at the end of it, we get the fairy tale we deserve. The time came in my life and I feel whole. I feel safe. I feel confident. For once, it doesn't matter what other people think or if they like me or my house or my photography or how I raise my children or how I treat my husband. I DON'T CARE. I know me, I know what I want, I know how I treat other people and how I expect to be treated in return. I'm curious. has anyone gone through this moment she describes? Can you remember it?

A time comes in your life when you finally get it ... when, in the midst of all your fears and insanity, you stop dead in your tracks and somewhere the voice inside your head cries out ENOUGH!!! No more fighting and no more crying or struggling to hold on.... And, like a child quieting down after a blind tantrum, your sobs begin to subside, you shudder once or twice, you blink back your tears and begin to look at the world through new eyes.

This is your awakening.

You realize it's time to stop hoping and waiting for something to change...or for happiness, safety and security to come galloping over the next horizon. You come to terms with the fact that you are neither Prince Charming or Cinderella and that in the real world there aren't always fairy tale endings (or beginnings for that matter) and that any guarantee of "happily ever after" must begin with you...and in the process a sense of serenity is born of acceptance. You awaken to the fact that you are not perfect and that not everyone will always love appreciate or approve of who or what you are...and that's OK. They are entitled to their own views and opinions. And you learn the importance of loving and championing yourself...and in the process a sense of newfound confidence is born of self-approval. You stop complaining and blaming other people for the things they did to you (or didn't do for you) and you learn that the only thing you can really count on is the unexpected. You learn that people don't always say what they mean or mean what they say and that not everyone will always be there for you and that it's not always about you.

So, you learn to stand on your own and to take care of yourself...and in the process a sense of safety and security is born of self-reliance. You stop judging and pointing fingers and you begin to accept people as they are and to overlook their shortcomings and human frailties...and in the process a sense of peace and contentment is born of forgiveness. You realize that much of the way you view yourself, and the world around you, is as a result of all the messages and opinions that have been ingrained into your psyche. And you begin to sift through all the junk you've been fed about how you should behave, how you should look, how much you should weigh, what you should wear, what you should do for a living, how much money you should make, what you should drive, how and where you should live, who you should marry, the importance of having and raising children, and what you owe your parents, family, and friends. You learn to open up to new worlds and different points of view. And you begin reassessing and redefining who you are and what you really stand for.

You learn the difference between wanting and needing and you begin to discard the doctrines and values you've outgrown, or should never have bought into to begin with...and in the process you learn to go with your instincts. You learn that it is truly in giving that we receive. And that there is power and glory in creating and contributing and you stop maneuvering through life merely as a "consumer" looking for your next fix. You learn that principles such as honesty and integrity are not the outdated ideals of a bygone era but the mortar that holds together the foundation upon which you must build a life.

You learn that you don't know everything,

it's not your job to save the world and that you can't teach a pig to sing. You learn to distinguish between guilt and responsibility and the importance of setting boundaries and learning to say NO. You learn that the only cross to bear is the one you choose to carry and that martyrs get burned at the stake. Then you learn about love. How to love, how much to give in love, when to stop giving and when to walk away. You learn to look at relationships as they really are and not as you would have them be. You stop trying to control people, situations and outcomes. And you learn that alone does not mean lonely.

You also stop working so hard at putting your feelings aside, smoothing things over and ignoring your needs.

You learn that feelings of entitlement are perfectly OK and that it is your right to want things and to ask for the things you want and that sometimes it is necessary to make demands. You come to the realization that you deserve to be treated with love, kindness, sensitivity and respect and you won't settle for less. And you learn that your body really is your temple. And you begin to care for it and treat it with respect. You begin to eat a balanced diet, drink more water, and take more time to exercise. You learn that being tired fuels doubt, fear, and uncertainty and so you take more time to rest. And, just as food fuels the body, laughter fuels our soul. So you take more time to laugh and to play.

You learn that, for the most part, you get in life what you believe you deserve...and that much of life truly is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

You learn that anything worth achieving is worth working for and that wishing for something to happen is different from working toward making it happen. More importantly, you learn that in order to achieve success you need direction, discipline and perseverance.

You also learn that no one can do it all alone...and that it's OK to risk asking for help.

You learn the only thing you must truly fear is the greatest robber baron of all: FEAR itself. You learn to step right into and through your fears because you know that whatever happens you can handle it and to give in to fear is to give away the right to live life on your own terms. And you learn to fight for your life and not to squander it living under a cloud of impending doom.

You learn that life isn't always fair, you don't always get what you think you deserve and that sometimes-bad things happen to unsuspecting, good people.

On these occasions you learn not to personalize things. You learn that God isn't punishing you or failing to answer your prayers. It's just life happening. You learn to deal with evil in its most primal state - the ego. You learn that negative feelings such as anger, envy and resentment must be understood and redirected or they will suffocate the life out of you and poison the universe that surrounds you. You learn to admit when you are wrong and to build bridges instead of walls. You learn to be thankful and to take comfort in many of the simple things we take for granted, things that millions of people upon the earth can only dream about: a full refrigerator, clean running water, a soft warm bed, a long hot shower. Slowly, you begin to take responsibility for yourself by yourself and you make yourself a promise to never betray yourself and to never, ever settle for less than your heart's desire. You hang a wind chime outside your window so you can listen to the wind. You make it a point to keep smiling, to trust, and to stay open to every wonderful possibility.

Finally, with courage in your heart and God by your side you take a stand, you take a deep breath, and you begin to design the life you want to live as best you can.

off she goes

Renee isn't and never has been a very active kid. She isn't overly coordinated and honestly just isn't interested in things like riding bikes and playing baseball. She prefers to spend her time making up imaginary games involving birthday cakes made of out puzzles and coloring rainbows and daisies on sheet after sheet of printer paper. We bought the kids each a bike this spring, Renee a big girl bike that she picked out because it is like Sarah's and Cam one of those balance bikes that is still in the pissing him off royally stage. Renee sat on her bike a couple of times when we got it and wasn't really strong enough to pedal it and everytime I asked her if she wanted to go ride her bike, she said no. I was a little disappointed because my daydreams of us riding the bikes around the neighborhood this summer were shattered.

But, this morning we were outside playing in the driveway in our pajamas at 8AM (thanks Cam) and she got on her bike and asked to go for a bike ride. So, I pushed her up the hill and ran along side her (running isn't exactly easy for me these days) showing her how to use her brake and she took right off, pedaling and steering and braking just like she's always known how to. It was one of those proud moments, one of those moments that I just adore being a mom. One day she couldn't and then one day she tried again and she could. We spent most of the day on the road riding bikes, both her mom and her dad clapping and screaming and so incredibly proud of her.

14 weeks

We found out on April Fool's day that we will be a family of five come December. FIVE! OHFG. I thought the universe was playing a joke on me. It turns out it wasn't an April Fool's joke at all. Apparently pee sticks don't have much of a sense of humor.

Honestly, I was thrilled when I saw the word pregnant. Ski was thrilled too. We both want a big family. We weren't sure we could afford it and we weren't sure we could handle it but we both wanted it. And now we will get it. When I think about what I want from my life, my aspirations are really along the lines of just wanting to be a good mom and a good wife. I can hardly wait to hold this baby that we have seen twice on ultrasound and that I can already feel flopping around inside of me. I wasn't sure I'd get to do this whole thing again. I'm ecstatic that I am.

It's been hard, though. I've been very sick, barfing my guts out at ten in the evening and at four in the morning and anytime in between. I mope up to bed at 8:30PM every night and wonder if the barfing is ever going to stop. I wonder if I was meant to spend this entire pregnancy doing the one the thing I swore I'd never do. I don't want to wish it away.

On top of the sickness, there is the worry about how on earth we'll pay for daycare for three kids. My job is very uncertain, the roof is broken and the patio table shattered in the wind storm. The car is doing really strange things and obviously needs to be serviced and I'm so scared to bring it in and have them tell me that it will be another $1000 to fix it that I just turn the music up and drive it around in total denial. I sold most of my baby gear last summer and am going to need to at least buy the essentials again. I, for the first time in our marriage, honestly have absolutely no idea how we are going to pay for it all.

This is life, I know.

I know we'll find a way. I know that I won't be sick forever. I know that one day very soon I'll wake up and all three of my children will be grown and I'll wonder why it had to go so fast. Ski and I will sit around and laugh about just how broke and tired and overworked we were when they were little and there were three of them under five. I know that if this job doesn't work out, I'll find a different one. I know that as long we are together, we'll be happy.

I know that those first few weeks of a fuzzy, sleepy newborn in my arms and watching another first birthday cake smash and having a little one crawling around the house again will make all of this worry and uncertainty and sickness seem so awfully insignificant.

I can hardly wait.