June jumble

Summer is officially underway. And when it comes to blogging during the summer craziness, ain't nobody got time for dat. (Sweet Brown, you still light up my life, girl!) Or at least it feels that way.
We've been busy with small 3-day getaways and trips to the baby pool. 

And in the evenings I have been making it my goal to catch up on all my neglected television shows. It's a little sad when you feel like you truly have your shit together just because you finally finished the season finale of Downton Abbey four months after it originally aired. 
Right now it is Game of Thrones. 
Shhh! Nobody spoil it! 
We have 4 episodes left. Jared and I have been able to safely avoid any spoilers on social media and TV so far. I love that show so much, it's like I want the episodes to drag on forever and never end, but I also want to binge watch them in one day so I can find out what happens. 


But I'm taking a break from television and making an effort now, folks. (Full disclosure: it took me 5 days to finish this post. "Game of Thrones" did indeed suck me in. And PS - I'm not happy with you George R.R.) 
Anyway... here we go!

Jared and I were able to take off for a few days for our anniversary. Last year we explored the Amana Colonies here in Iowa. We decided that it would be fun to do that again - a local vacation to somewhere new. We ended up in Dubuque for two nights. 

I booked a zipline adventure for both of us at Sky Tours in Dubuque. It was 9 separate ziplines over Union Park, which used to be a huge recreation/theme park back in the mid-late 1800s. Neither of us had ever done a zipline before, so it was a new experience for both of us. 

We had a great time, and I would highly recommend it. I am not scared of heights, but I thought I might have some apprehension with it. Nope, none at all. Jared and I both loved it.

We spent the rest of our days exploring around Dubuque and Galena, IL (about 25 minutes away) - shops, parks - random vacation stuff.

We hit up the Fenelon Elevator which is basically a Dubuque landmark. It was built by a businessman in the late 1800s as a shortcut to his house up on the hill so that he could fit a nap into his daily lunch hour. It was a fun little stop and the view from the top was great.

We also took in a movie one night - a rarity for us. We went to see "Spy" with Melissa McCartney. Honestly, I haven't laughed that hard at a movie in a long time - maybe ever. It was so good, I would go see it again in the theater. Heck, I might even buy it when it comes out. And it's probably been a good decade since I've bought a non-Disney movie so that's saying something.

In less fun news, Graham has started potty training.
I'll spare you the boring details.
Just let me tell you, underwear are not some magic trick to make your kids use the toilet. I'd hoped they would be, but alas, they are not.
Especially when your child is this ornery.

I read somewhere that parents had success talking up the underwear. 
You know, like, "We don't want to pee or poop on our superhero friends. We don't want to poop on Batman, do we?"
So I did that.
I talked allllll about how Batman isn't to be peed on.
And about one hour later Graham came to me and proudly announced:
I pooped on Batman!

Yep, that's about how well it's going... 


We spent a few days at my parents' newly-purchased home in Okoboji. Actually its address is in Spirit Lake, but the Okoboji habit is going to be hard to quit.

We brought along some items to help my mom decorate and moved some furniture. (A couch might have fallen down the stairs on to Jared, but we won't dwell on that...) We helped with some finishing touches here and there and basically just hung out. 

Aunt Beaner was there for the weekend and she came armed with a present for each kid. Now G-Man can run around the house in only Batman underwear and a matching hat.

We eventually left the kids with my dad and he promptly took them to the nearest available water and let them get wet. Hopefully there will be many fishing excursions with Papa Jeff in their future.

Okoboji has plenty of beaches, but we picnicked and eventually settled at the one we always went to when I was a kid. The adults sat and soaked up the sun while the kids shoveled sand.  

The plan is to spend the weekend of the 4th up in Okoboji too. I've never been there over the holiday weekend, so I'm excited to see the fireworks and hang out with family.

Right now, this week is Vacation Bible School and let me tell you, as a helper for games, there is no need to exercise outside of Bible school. Playing tag with elementary and middle school students is no joke! All three of our kids are attending: Bailey and Avery are in separate classes this year and Graham gets to hang out in the nursery since I'm volunteering. They're loving it and particularly enjoy the novelty of bringing their own lunch.

Other things have been going on around here too, including t-ball for the girls and redecorating our living room. Bye bye, beige! I will post an update featuring a little color soon, especially now that Game of Thrones won't be occupying my available free time. 

I hope everyone is enjoying summer as much as we are!

enjoying my own

I've written before - well over a year ago - about the struggle I sometimes feel with where I am in life right now. There are times when staying at home with three young kids is the best possible job in the world. 
And there are days when it just isn't. 

Yet I've come to realize that most of my insecurities with being a stay-at-home-mom come from within. On bad days I start to doubt my purpose. Occasionally I let comments made by others - at times they might even be well-intentioned comments - affect how I view myself. 
And that's crappy. 
That's on me. 

There are going to be people who don't know me well or those with limited life experience who judge my decision to stay at home. Or ask what I could possibly do all day. Or roll their eyes when I say I've had a rough week. 

But I get to choose how I see myself, not outsiders. 

And honestly, a few years ago I too would have seen only the up-sides of being a SAHM. Because staying home, raising your own kids, is a blessing right? 
And it is. 
But it's not for everybody. 
Some days it's not even for me. 
Because just like every other mom in the world - working outside the home or not - some days just suck.

Lately though, our days are better. I feel less stressed than a few months ago. 
I don't regret my decision to stay at home with my kids these last two years. 
I get to do some extras that I wouldn't if I were gone during the day, like tucking Graham in for his nap and having plenty of time to hit the library with all three kids.
I've met some friends that I probably wouldn't have had contact with otherwise.
I've had the opportunity to take better care of my health - both with eating and exercising - that I know I probably wouldn't make time for if I were working.

So I'm cutting myself some slack, not being so hard on myself.
Or maybe I'm getting more perspective as I age. (30 is so old and wise, ya know.)
Or maybe I just give less of a shit about what other people think.

I read something on a random blog a while back that said mothers are 
"the keepers of the details in their families' lives." 
I like that.
Not only are we keeping the details straight about doctor appointments and tee-ball practices, but the laundry gets done, the dirty bathrooms get cleaned, and supper gets cooked. Working mom or stay-at-home mom. We're all still moms.
So yeah, there ya have it. My job description:
I keep the train on its track. 

We all contribute differently to our kids' lives. 
I cultivate details through records of our lives: baby books, photo albums, journals I write for the kids, this blog even. That's my little extra that I add in.
Jared is a hands-on guy. He is out in the kitchen cooking and baking with the kids, letting them each sniff the cinnamon and the cumin, watching them take turns stirring batter. In the spring they'll help him pot the plants they grew together from seeds. 

Other parents plan massive birthday party blow-outs that put the Solko Family's to shame. 
Others are great with arts and crafts and anything Pinterest can dream up. 
Some have a nightly routine filled with blankets and books that I envy. 

We're all different. And it's okay.
I didn't exactly envision staying at home full-time. And that's okay too. 
But I need to enjoy more and worry less. 
To everything there is a season, right?

Happy Father's Day

Wishing a Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there, but especially to the most important man in our house.

You were there to hear their very first cries, scooping them up and posing for pictures with that awestruck look on your face. You learned how to feed Bailey, how to swaddle, how to position them so they could comfortably rest their tiny cheeks on your chest and fall asleep. You changed diapers, warmed bottles, found the Boppy that was always disappearing, and looked past my never-ending parade of nursing tanks.

You're the most important man in their lives. 
Splashing in the pool.
Bedtime stories.
Movies with popcorn.
Planting flowers.
Bike rides.
Homemade fudgesicles.
Under-dunks on the swings.
Cooking in the kitchen.
Holidays.
All typical moments in a kid's life, 
made special because of you.

We're still learning every day how to raise these three crazy kids.

And while lots of days I feel like I'm not getting it right, it always helps to know we are in this parenting thing together.

Happy Father's Day to my husband.

Thank you, Jared, for all you do each and every day. 

The four of us love you so very much.

my truth: I am 1 in 4

During college I attended a production of The Vagina Monologues in which my roommate had a role. I went with a group of friends and enjoyed the show. The end included some brief statistics - like the fact that one in four females is sexually abused or assaulted in her lifetime.

The speaker then addressed the audience, asking for victims of sexual abuse to stand. The number of people - mostly women - standing in that theater was a bit staggering. I remained seated. 

I should have been standing. 

Because I am that statistic: 

I am one in four. 

It's something that took me a long time to come to terms with, to get past. And at that point back in college, the thought of admitting that was me? It was too much. I was too embarrassed. Why would I want my friends to know that about me?

I am reminded of an episode of Oprah (oh how I miss you on TV, Opes!). Oprah, as a victim of sexual abuse as a child herself, did quite a few shows on the subject during her television reign. This particular show featured three different sexual abusers. All had abused children. All were serving prison sentences. All three were on the show to speak of their crimes to shed some light on how they were able to do what they did, with the hope that parents could arm themselves with information to help prevent this heinous thing from happening to their own children. 

One of the abusers was speaking of his much younger cousin that he had abused: 

"I killed someone. I killed the person that she was supposed to become."

At the time, and even now, that really made sense to me. 

I will never know the person I would have been. 

In a way that person died when I was 7 years old. 

How much differently would I have turned out if I could have continued a blissfully innocent childhood? If years of my childhood hadn't been dedicated to keeping a secret and worrying constantly? 

Thinking back to that sad, anxious little girl who spent night after night for years pacing the upstairs hallway, waiting for the perfect moment to share that painful, horrible, ugly secret... it just makes me sad for her. My heart breaks for her.

But now, some 20 odd years later, I am not that little girl.

I know that the embarrassment and shame I carried around for so long wasn't ever mine to begin with. After years of tears and therapy and gradual self-awareness, I am at a place of forgiveness. I can't change what happened to me all those years ago, but I can try my hardest to prevent it from happening to my own kids.

So why am I bringing this all up now?

April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month.

Throughout this month I have seen a lot of info about ways parents can help protect their own children. So much of it was great, easy to implement teaching and tips so I wanted to pass some along. Because I know as parents our main goal for our children is that they be safe, happy, and healthy.

A couple stats.

• It's estimated 1 in 4 females and 1 in 6 males will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime.
• 93% of juvenile victims know their abuser.

Teach your children the proper names for their body parts.

A vagina is a vagina. A penis is a penis. 

Teaching kids the proper names for their private parts helps them understand that while our privates are private, they aren't so private that children cannot talk about them. Also this gives kids the proper language so they can ask questions or communicate concerns should they have any.

Let children decide who can touch them.

Children are in control of their bodies and shouldn't be forced into situations they don't want to be in. So yeah, is it a tiny bit awkward when Junior refuses to give Grandma Caroline a kiss goodbye? Probably. But teaching kids that they shouldn't be pressured into personal contact against their will increases the chances that they will refuse or report other less-benign contact that makes them uncomfortable. 

Everyone has the right to privacy.

Just as kids should respect others' right to privacy, they also deserve privacy. Children need to know that no one should be touching their private parts without permission.

We don't keep secrets.

There is a big difference between a surprise and a secret. A surprise is something we keep from someone for a short amount of time - like a birthday present. A secret is different. Many abusers pressure their victims to "keep a secret." Tell your children that you never expect them to keep a secret from you, especially if it is something that makes them uncomfortable. 

Don't have just one big "talk"

Make sexual education a non-taboo topic in your house.

If you start talking to your kids at a young age - meaning starting at age 3 - and keep the dialogue open, adding new information as is appropriate, it should be much less awkward than you would imagine. 

Kids follow our cues. If we act uncomfortable or avoid the subject, they will know it isn't something to be talked about. You want your kids to be able to come talk to you, especially on a topic as important as this. The more accurate information your kids are armed with, the more likely they are to realize when a situation is inappropriate and come talk to you about it. 

Good information on how to start the conversation can be found at No Place Like Home. 

Be available.

Tell your children that they can come talk to you about anything.

Emphasize that whether it is good, bad, fun, sad, difficult or easy to talk about, you will be there to listen. And follow through.

Be involved.

Know as much as possible about your child's life. 

Know their coaches. Know their friends. Know their friends' parents. Know other adults that your child might talk to or confide in. Ask about what they did at school or while playing with friends. Know the kind of television shows they watch and the video games they play.

Know the signs

Many kids who have been abused or are being abused exhibit signs that adults might pick up on. Withdrawal or clingy behavior, bedwetting, angry outbursts, sexualized play, sleeping problems, a change in eating habits, or fear of new people and places are all signs that could point toward possible abuse. In older children or teens the signs can include drug and alcohol abuse, promiscuity, depression, and even attempts at suicide. Even if you aren't a parent yourself, it is helpful to know what to look for. Teachers, coaches, daycare providers, or just friends and family members can benefit from knowing this information and potentially make all the difference in a child's life.

None of these tips is a guarantee to keep your child safe from harm, but hopefully they will be a starting block to help us begin to protect our kids. 

Links and references

American Academy of Pediatrics

Rape, Abuse, & Incest National Network

No Place Like Home

"just love today"

I've been a horrible blogger this week. There were multiple times and things I wanted to write, but I never seemed to get the chance. And when I did have the chance, I was too damn tired to move off the couch and go to bed, let alone sit and write a blog.

With Graham just now starting to sleep through the night again for the first time in almost 8 weeks (thanks so much, teething and baby gas), I have been extra tired. And extra-tiredness leads to feeling extra stressed. And it's not even Christmas stress. I can't imagine how overwhelmed I'd be if I was still worried about which presents buy.
Nope, it's just been the daily stuff.
Whining kids.
A crying baby.
Laundry.
Lunches.
Mom I need milk! {What is it with my kids needing so much freakin' milk all the time?!}
Guarding the Christmas tree so it doesn't topple over on anyone.

And when I am tired, I tend to lose my shit right around, oh, precisely 4:30 pm.
After a long day of staying positive and encouraging with five kids, I am spent. My brain tells me: You cannot handle hearing "I NEED A SNACK!" one more time.

One night last week after a pretty terrible day, I saw a post that a Facebook friend shared. It was a post from the website Hands Free Mama. The author is named Rachel, and she explains in painful detail how she has struggled to become the mom and person she wants to be.
This post really hit me hard.
Guilt hit me hard.

The Bully Too Close To Home

Too often I am the one exasperated or yelling over a glass of spilled milk or a stolen (again!) cell phone or a broken ornament.
I can be a bit of a control freak.
It's hard for me to embrace the mess and the clutter that comes with letting our kids explore and play and learn and just be kids.
I could see part of me in this woman's writing.
It was exactly what I needed to read, exactly when I needed to read it.

I don't want my kids to be scared of my reaction when they knock over a flower pot or spill their lunch. I don't want to see them cringe awaiting my wrath over an innocent mistake.
I don't want to be that mom.
I vowed to try my best the next day.

It sounds super cheesy, but Rachel's mantra of "Just Love Today" described in the post actually helped. I didn't tell myself those exact words, but when I felt on the verge of an eye roll or exaggerated sigh, I remembered the post from the night before.

Our kids are going to have enough people filling their heads with negativity,

telling them that they aren't good enough,

pretty enough,

smart enough,

clever enough,

strong enough,

fast enough,

creative enough.

They shouldn't ever feel any of those things from their own mother.

I want them to learn and create and bloom into the best versions of themselves that they can be. I want to be a mom that encourages them, not one who stands over them waiting for the inevitable mess or spill or mistake.

I was going to recommend that anyone who struggles with similar issues should check out her blog.
But I take that back.
Every parent should check out this site.
Heck, every person should.
We could all stand to be more compassionate, patient, engaged people.
A little effort goes a long way.
For your kids. For your spouse. For yourself.

This week has been a lot calmer.
Busy, and not without its moments, but good. It's not always easy to keep my cool, but as long as I am working on it, that's what counts.
We're all just a work in progress anyway, right?

Seriously parents?!

Have you seen this story?

To sum it up, Brian Holloway (an ex-NFL player) had his 2nd home in New York broken into by over 300 teenagers. The kids threw a party, caused over $20,000 in damage, stole items, and posted pictures of it all on every available social media outlet.
He in turn created the website Help Me Save 300, posting pictures of the guilty parties in all their Twitter and Facebook glory.

Here is the kicker:
some of the kids' parents are suing HIM for defamation for "bullying" the very teens that broke the law by trashing his house!

Never mind the fact that these kids took pictures of themselves doing drugs and peeing on the carpet.
Forget the fact that they willingly tweeted their location along with photos of them stealing.
Those poor teens!
The big, bad man posted all the photos they took themselves!
Oh no, someone might hold them accountable for their actions!

Seriously, parents? What kind of crap "parenting" is this?
Your child literally documents all their illegal activity and you go after the man who pointed out what they did wrong?!
What is wrong with people?!

After posting this website and asking for those who did the damage to come forward and help him clean up the property, all of one person showed up. One person.
I personally can guarantee that if my parents had caught me doing some crap like this:
1) I wouldn't be able to sit for a week,
2) I would be out there scrubbing walls and carpets and apologizing till I was red in the face, and
3) It would be bye-bye social media until Twitter and Facebook lost all relevance.

And in my opinion, that is how it should be.

I realize parents can't totally control their kids' behavior. They are kids. They are going to make bad decisions and act like irresponsible jerks at one time or another, no matter how awesome of a parent you are. But you are the adult. You have the responsibility of being the PARENT when these things happen.
Parents are supposed to teach lessons, guide their kids, help them realize there are consequences to their actions. It isn't your job as a parent to be your child's best friend or defend their actions even when they're 100% in the wrong.
I know I am not perfect and I am going to make lots of parenting mistakes, but I guarantee I can do a hell of a lot better than this.


*And if you read Brian Holloway's website, it shows he is asking for donations to help with the clean-up. I also read that the house might have been in foreclosure and he is planning to use said donations to help pay off the house. Seems a little sketchy to me, but that is neither here nor there.

The point is that these kids screwed up, and instead of their parents teaching them a valuable life lesson, they filed a stupid lawsuit instead.

a cleft on the big screen

With Bailey starting preschool this fall, I have had some random here and there thoughts about her cleft and other kids. It's not something I am actually worried about; it's more that I want to be prepared. And more importantly, I want her to be prepared.

In this age of bullying and pressure to fit in, Bailey has a visible difference from other kids. No matter that it is relatively small and many people don't notice it now - someone is going to. In fact, kids already have.

Just last week I was babysitting two boys: a 9 year-old and a 2 year-old.
(I will be watching the 2 year-old Jace and his new sister Mia when school starts this fall.)
We were playing outside in the backyard, checking out Baxter the bunny. Carter (the 9 year-old) was talking to Bailey and all of the sudden said, "What's with your lip?"
Bailey wasn't quite sure how to respond. She quietly touched her upper lip and didn't say anything. She looked up at me.
I said to Bailey, "Remember? That's your special scar that we talk about."
She smiled and said, "Oh yeah, my scar!"

I was able to explain to Carter that Bailey was born looking different than other babies because her lip just didn't grow together like it was supposed to. He  listened to my explanation, and when I asked if he wanted to see a picture of what she looked like when she was very little, he eagerly said yes. He looked at her pictures, asking appropriate questions about her surgeries and if she could eat from a bottle. 
And he kept repeating "She was one lucky baby."
She was. And so were we. 

She wasn't the baby I'd been picturing for months as she grew in my belly; God had other plans.
Parts of her early life sucked:

NICU time. Pumping. Surgeries. Bottles with so many freakin' parts.

Any there will be more challenges:

Missing teeth. More surgeries. Teasing. Braces.

 

But even with all of it, I don't really think about her cleft. I don't spend time wishing I could make it go away. I don't worry much about the future surgeries or expense. I don't waste my time on this thing I cannot change. It's part of who she is. And our girl is just perfect the way she is.
I do spend time reading blogs and online boards and websites devoted to clefts with the hope that I can garner some much-needed knowledge on how to best equip Bailey with the confidence and information she needs to live in a world that very much judges us on our looks rather than our hearts.


With that in mind, it saddened me to see that Disney's new movie "The Lone Ranger" gave its main villain (Butch Cavendish) a cleft lip for the purpose of making him seem more evil. This wasn't an actor who already had scar. They purposefully gave him a dental prosthetic which forced his lip into a cleft-like position.

A direct quote from Disney's movie website:
"Cavendish is a ruthless outlaw whose terribly scarred face is a perfect reflection of the bottomless pit that passes for his soul."

The only scar I am really seeing is the one above his lip. Just a cleft scar and a lot of wrinkles. In an interview the actor said that the scar and make-up made it extremely easy to slip into the role of this "soulless villain."

Now, I am not a letter-writer. I don't send letters to my senator or protest things. (I leave that to Jared, who happens to really enjoy a strongly worded letter.) But this did disappoint me. One cleft scar and some wrinkles translates to a soulless outlaw? It just seems a poor way to establish characterization. Wouldn't a scar on his face or eye or cheek have been just as effective to help us make the leap to yep, he is the bad guy ?
Would Disney have used another "disability" or birth defect to build characterization - to show other characters as inferior, stupid, or slow?

And maybe I am being overly sensitive on the issue, but to me it seems simply unnecessary. I think the bad teeth, unwashed hair, and crazy eyes are more than enough to help me figure out which side this character is on, especially since most heroes don't usually appear on screen looking as if they haven't had a bath in years.
I am probably not going to see the movie, most likely because I wasn't ever going to in the first place. And I am not crying any tears over the reported poor ticket sales either.

The decision to use a cleft lip to portray villainy seems in poor taste for Disney - a company whose movies I have loved since early childhood. (Loved me some Little Mermaid!) And speaking of childhood, one out of every 700 babies is born with a cleft, making it one of the most common birth defects.
A lot of little kids watch and love Disney movies, including my own. And while I realize this movie is not aimed toward small children, the intent of using a cleft lip to add to the "evilness" of a character is not helping my innocent 3 year-old. She will be facing enough teasing and perhaps bullying down the road without a major film studio adding to it.

Terrifying

Last night Jared and I were at the city park with the kids and my sister Justy. We were alternating between playing with the girls on the equipment and just relaxing at the picnic tables. From where we were sitting we overheard some scary conversations.

A group of 14 year-olds was sitting behind us - Justy knew their ages from helping coach middle school sports. They began discussing their "numbers" - as in number of sexual partners. One girl was bragging that she was at "seven... no, eight" and the other kids laughed and jokingly said, "Oh yeah, you are a whore!"
Like the thought of a 14 year-old having even one sexual partner is funny - let alone EIGHT!

Then one teen asked another girl a question, and she replied that her personal record was 13 "sexual favors" (in place of the more graphic terminology) in one day. It was implied through the conversation that it was with 13 different boys.
First of all: Yuck.
Second of all: Yuck.
And third of all: This is the kind of shit kids are doing and discussing before even entering high school?!

Even if they were exaggerating or just making it all up, which they very well could have been, it is still disturbing to me that bragging about these kind of exploits is even cool to do.

Is this really the norm now?

This makes me beyond nervous as a parent.
I am betting their parents have NO IDEA what kind of things they are talking about, much less doing! And I am sure quite a few of these teens come from "good" homes.
Homes with parents that check homework and cook family dinners.
Homes with curfews and chores to be completed.
And their well-meaning parents have not a clue.

On the walk home, us three adults were discussing all that we had heard.
Jared's first comment was, "I told you that I am praying we just have nerdy kids."
And I am pretty sure he is spot-on. I would much rather have a band geek or a book worm who feels comfortable in her own skin than a "popular" child who will do whatever it takes to fit in.

As a parent I want to shield my babies from all this, keep them innocent until they are actually mature enough. But I know that isn't possible, so it's up to us to establish in them a sense of self-worth and morals. I don't want my child (in middle school no less!) thinking any part of the above conversations is cool.

My main goal is to be approachable.
And while I want to instill values and independence in my children so that they can eventually make the right decisions on their own, I also want them to feel like they can talk to me about anything - even the hard or downright uncomfortable stuff.
I am reminded of a quote I saw a while back that has stuck with me.

I am guilty of this - of not listening.

Just as I am sure all parents are.

How many times in a day can I hear the same made-up story about Barney driving to our house in Papa's tractor? (Am I right?!)

But it is the point that as they grow, it's important for us to listen to the little stuff. To really hear them talk about the fight they had with their best friends because they didn't invite them over to play. To really listen to them excitedly tell us about their latest art project. If we won't even listen to these things, I doubt they are going to trust us with the biggies: sex... drugs...(And rock-n-roll...?  Corny but I had to.)

And I am sure the hardest part is starting the conversation or knowing how to. After the incident yesterday I remembered that our pediatrician's office in Omaha handed out information starting at the 2 year-old well check. It was a print-out from a website devoted to helping parents talk to their kids about sex. It had a lot of good information and kept it really easy and basic.

No Place Like Home

 

It starts at age 3 and goes all the way up. And I am sure it is only going to get more uncomfortable as the years go by, but if having honest discussions with my kids keeps them from being one of those teens bragging about her "daily record," then I have absolutely no problem with it.

Plus with 1 in 4 girls and 1 in 10 boys being sexually abused in childhood, it is extremely important to me that my kids not be one of those statistics. Arming our kids with basic knowledge can go a long way in helping them protect themselves.

 

And if worse comes to worst, I have no shame in whipping out the nasty real-life STD pictures as a teenager scare tactic. Totally not kidding.  Who's with me??!

 

To my own daddy

Happy 29th Father's Day, Dad.



I love this picture, of a dad - my dad - meeting his firstborn child.
I love the feeling of awe you can clearly see on my dad's face.
The studying of a new baby, this thing you have helped create.
Suddenly the world has just changed.

 

No longer just livestock to feed, there is now a hungry little baby demanding food.

 

And oh so many special moments to share and memories to create,

snow banks to play in,

and tractor rides to take.

My parents didn't have a lot of money when we were growing up. The farm crisis hit when I was only a year or two old, and things were tight. Looking back now at pictures I can see it: a house that was badly needing paint and our old car complete with rust spots.

The important thing is that I never felt it. I never felt like I was missing out.

And it is because I wasn't.

My parents worked hard to make sure we had everything that was truly important. And we had more than enough of all of those things.

There were birthday parties with cakes my mom baked herself and gifts under the Christmas tree. My dad insisted we have a pool, even if my mom wasn't thrilled. We took family vacations (ugh, Minnesota, again?!). We ate supper as a family every single night and talked around the dinner table. We laughed.
 
My dad taught me the value of hard work by making my sisters and me walk/ride beans for an entire summer to earn an original Playstation game console.

He taught me compassion by being respectful and kind to others, especially those with disabilities.

He taught me how to stand up for myself, which I did when I punched a bully in the face in 5th grade. (My proudest detention.)

He taught me to look for the good in other people just as he always does.

He taught me some really great swear words during all our sessions of hog-loading.

He encouraged and helped me develop my own opinions during all our lively debates. (My mom likes to call them arguments.)

He taught me that the little things matter when he got so excited over opening his birthday and Father's Day cards.

He taught me the value of a dollar by paying me with a can of pop after hours of pitching hog manure.

By loving my mom, he showed me the kind of love all girls deserve.

I have seen my dad's strength.
And a time or two I have seen him vulnerable, unsure of how to make things right.
I admire him much more for those times of brokenness - letting me see his emotions and his heart.
And partly because of that, I know I can count on my dad; he is going to show up when I need him.
Maybe not on time... but he will be there. And he will try his best to make things right.

Thank you Dad. 
Thanks for playing farm with us on the living room floor.
Thanks for always swimming with us at the lake or in the pool (bonus points for throwing us in the air).
Thanks for giving us wide open space in the country to run free and explore.
Thanks for getting to know our friends (Hello, Jeff-dance anyone?!) and letting our house be a place we loved to hang out.
Thanks for giving us just enough freedom so that we never felt the urge to rebel.


Thanks for letting me be my own person, for holding your tongue when I moved away to Kansas at the age of 20- even though I know you thought I had lost my damn mind.
Thanks for still "debating" with me. You know I love a good political discussion.
And finally -
thanks for being Papa to my kids, the kind of grandpa that takes them for tractor rides and buys them all kinds of auction-find trikes and toys. Just like you did for me.

I love you.

Happy Father's Day.

about effing time!

Posted without comment:

why moms do what they do: it's all starting to make some sense now...

When you're growing up your mom does all this stuff that seems crazy.

You think to yourself,

Ugh! Why does she say that?

And why does she do that?!

Well I am starting to understand...

"We"ll see."
This one was the worst! Why couldn't she just make a decision?!
Recently I have found myself saying the exact same thing. Basically I am buying myself time to determine if I want to deal with the fight that comes with saying no or if it's just easier to cave and let Bailey wear another fluffy over-the-top dress to bed for the 9th night in a row.

Not buying us everything we wanted.
One Christmas I was obsessed with a Barbie play house bathroom set. This bad boy came with a sink, toilet, AND shower/tub combo. Sweet? Yeah, I know. I remember it costing less than 30 bucks in the JCPenney Christmas catalog, so I figured that was do-able for "Santa." Well, apparently Santa had other ideas. Christmas morning came - no designer bath for Barbie.
This one is hard for me, because while you're all probably thinking it wasn't a necessity for my happiness, you didn't see the real-life looking pedestal sink and the tiny little knobs in the shower. Seriously, so precious...
But as a mom now, I understand why Santa saw fit to provide me with some stirrup leggings and a sweater with a cat on it: because kitten sweaters and pants that won't ever slip out of your shoes are practical. Plus my mom was probably thinking that she didn't need any more plastic crap laying around her already-crowded living room.

"Because I said so."
The most annoying mom phrase of all time.
We all know this isn't a real answer!
Why do moms use this one?
Answer: because it is the only thing you can think of at the moment and you don't want to not have an answer. Besides I have mom brain (pregnant brain that morphed into baby brain which took up permanent residence) and I can't think on my toes as quickly as I used to.

Those inhumane bedtimes.
My mom had a set bedtime for all of us and she was pretty strict about it. I begged and begged all of my 8th grade year to be able to stay up to watch a whole episode of E.R. (which by the way - why was I watching that show anyway? I am sure I understood about 5% of what was being said.) but my mom would only go as far as to let me stay up an extra half hour - to watch HALF of the episode. What?!
Totally getting this one, Mom. Seriously I wouldn't have even given me that half hour.
When 7:30 hits around here, I am basically running back down the stairs shouting "Freedom!" at the top of my lungs because I am finally child-free. Scratch that - make that "physically" child-free. I still get to listen to them whine from their room for another song or a different book for at least another half hour.

"You're just tired."
This is the phrase my mom used any time anyone was crankier than normal.
Our usual response: "NO I AM NOT!" (Which obviously cleared up that discrepancy...)
She was right - cranky kids are usually tired kids. When Bailey is over-the-top whiny and acting a certain way, I know she is tired and needs a nap.
But I never appreciated it when Mom would use this line on me as a teenager. Or even once when I was like 22. Ummm... I'm an adult now, and I know you are comparing me to a 2 year-old! Not cool. When you reach adulthood, you're probably actually upset about something - not just pissy because you didn't get your daily siesta.

Literally locking all us kids out of the house and not allowing us to come in for hours.
Seriously, can't we just come inside for a drink?  To get a toy?  To use the bathroom?!
It's now clear in hindsight that Mom just wanted to get something done - not just scrub a floor to find someone with muddy shoes walking across the opposite side of the same room.
Or maybe she just wanted to go #2 in peace. Because that is a totally legit reason, too.

Which brings me to my next thought:

 

Mom? Mom? Mom! Mom?? Mom?! MOMMMM???!!!
Wait, why is she acting all exasperated? I just wanted to know where she was.
{Man, we must have been annoying!}
It's pretty obvious that going to the bathroom is like the most exciting spectator sport known to toddlers.
But mine have some uncanny alert system when it comes to me sneaking upstairs to fold laundry. "Mom? Mom? Mom, where ah you??"
Laundry is not fun. Throw in two toddlers and everything gets folded about four different times and still ends up in a pile on the bed. No wonder Mom waited so long to answer.

 

 

So this Mother's Day I am going to take the opportunity to apologize for all the eye-rolling and snotty looks I aimed in my mom's direction as a kid. Because a lot of the stuff she did was for a good reason. Or for her sanity, which is a good enough reason.

 

And now that I have an opinionated, independent mini-me daughter of my own, I know my mom is having the last laugh. And enjoying it.

So I think we're even, Mom.

Nighty-Night

Our nights around here can be a little bit chaotic.

And full of routine.

 

Baths.

Getting dressed.

Doing hair.

Crying about not wanting to do hair.

Brushing teeth.

Off to get in bed.

Out of bed to find whatever stuffed animal is deemed absolutely necessary.

Books.

Begging for more books.

Songs. {Always "Edelweis." Always.}

Two more songs. Period.

Begging for more songs.

Hugs.

Kisses. {One on the lips, and one on each cheek from Bailey. Always.}

The yelling of Goodnight over and over.

I can't wait until they add I need a glass of water! and I need to pee again! to the above list...

Here is our bedtime the other night.

Graham fits nicely in the doll's pack-n-play, don't you think?

Avery lounging in her new big-girl bed, which she L-O-V-E-S.

Story time with Daddy.
Bailey insists you get in and cover up if you are going to read to her.

The last few nights Graham has actually slept more.
He has been doing a solid 7 hours at least, followed up by a period of an hour and half in the recliner with me, and then another two hours or so asleep.

I am relieved.

I am a much nicer person when I am not functioning on 3 hours of sleep a night.