Unexpected

Things don't always go the way you expect them to.
Like last weekend when I decided we don't have enough sit-down family dinners at the kitchen table.  And I announced we would eat our food in the same room at the same time...causing a pained expression to cross my football enthusiast husband's face.  But he sat.  And I thought it would be so special I should take a picture of our perfect family and write a blog about eating together.  So I asked Hillary to run downstairs to get the camera.  She promptly asked Parker to do it.  Who promptly refused.  Irritably. Causing Hubby to growl and bark.  Until I finally said, "Forget it!"  I mean, seriously...who wants a picture of this?
We sat and we ate.  And we made strained small talk.
And by that evening, we were back to normal.
Fast-forward to this weekend.
The grandparents came up, and we were taking the kids to Six Flags.  We had extra tickets, so each kid got to invite a friend.  I was glad, because I expected they would want to go off separately from each other and have non-irritating, non-sibling fun.  We got inside the park and went our separate ways.  A couple hours later, I texted Hillary..."Where r u? And have u seen ur brother?"
She answered, "He's with me.  We r at The Ninja."
Well, what do you know?
We old folks made our way over there just in time to see the four of them come off the ride...smiling and glowing like only teenagers who just came off a roller coaster can do.  "Mom!" Hillary exclaimed.  "We want to take an Old Tyme Photo, but we don't quite have enough money."
So we adults/money givers, followed them to the shop.  We watched them dress up and act out.  We shelled out the cash for the two pictures they would illegally share later.  And we admitted we had had enough fun for grown-ups for one day.  We let the kids stay and we left to get dinner. Hillary would drive them home later.
I watched my son and daughter and their friends walk away from me side by side.  Enjoying each other's company and making fun memories.  And I had to smile.
Sometimes things don't go the way you expect them to.
Isn't it grand?

Desired Outcomes

I recently participated in a Parent Survey which asked the questions, "What makes a parent successful?" and "What is your desired outcome for your kids?"  My answer was that a parent is successful if they KNOW their children, and that what I hope my kids become is the most THEMSELVES they can be.  I want them to be grown-ups that know who they are, pursue their dreams with gusto, fail and fall...but know how to get back up and learn from experience.  I want them to be people who like who God made them...and who are liked by others.  

So when my sister-in-law said this...my heart smiled.

"I just have to tell you what great kids you have.  I mean, really...they are just good to be around."

And she should know after having spent several hours in a car with the both of them.  

I think she meant...they know how to talk with adults.

I think she meant...they are smart and funny.

I think she meant...they each have quirks and they know it but they don't seem to mind.

So as I watched them being THEM throughout the wedding weekend...

Proudly escorting the moms of the bride and groom...

Hunting with my brother and making him laugh...

Sitting with girls in church on Sunday and acting "cool"...

Taking a huge responsibility like saving memories and turning it into something creative and unique...

Sitting with the grown-ups in a smoke-filled room and getting the jokes...

Finishing a college assignment by taking pictures of mom and dad in a cotton field...

I smiled and thought about "desired outcomes".

And knew that what they are is what I hoped they would be.  

And whatever else they become is exactly what I hope they will be. 

Exposing the Truth

I was sitting at the kitchen table, chatting with my brother and sister-in-law, telling the story of how I went to the Pleasure Zone (the closest "adult" store) to find a lingerie shower gift.  How I had never been there...how I had to show my ID just to get in the door...how there were many interesting and educational things on display...how after 34 years of living and birthing two babies I still didn't know what the plastic mold of two feet were for...when Parker piped up, "So THAT'S where you were."

I paused.

Of course he was sitting with us, drinking in our laughter and storytelling, because that's how we do it at our house.  

"What are you talking about," I asked.

"Well, when Hillary picked us up from school on Friday (meaning him and his two female friends), I asked where you were and she said you were at the Pleasure Zone."

WHAT?

Hillary told two random 14 year old girls that Parker's mom couldn't pick them up from school because she was visiting the Pleasure Zone?!?

There goes my reputation.

I couldn't help it.  I burst out laughing.  

After all, it was the truth.

And I've always told my kids the truth.  

See, I believe that kids can handle it.  From a pretty young age, kids know what's going on...even if they may not know how to express it.  They know when Mom's stressed and they know when Parents love each other.  They know when you're lying and when you're telling the Truth. They see it if you profess one things to your friends and then live out something different.  So I've let them know me, warts and all.  And they return the favor.

And it works for us.

And that's the Truth.

Grown Up

As I was sitting downstairs, enjoying some rerun on tv, Parker texted me from the far away reaches of...his bedroom.
"What are we doing Friday?"
I thought for a moment, checked my handy phone calendar, and replied, "Nothing that I know of."
He went on to explain that he had been invited to a girl's house to watch movies.  Wanting to save me time and trouble he figured he could go home with her from school and then Hillary could pick him up later.  How sweet of him to keep me completely out of it.
I know the family and I know that this may be his first "hang-out date" but it won't be his last and I know how much he wants this...so I say it sounds fine to me.
And the next day, I email the other mom.
And discover that there will be two girls and my son alone at their house watching a movie while this mom and dad are down the street having dinner with friends.  She said it should be fine bc they are all "good kids".
My heart sank.
Parker is a low-key guy.  He doesn't ask for much and he doesn't get excited about much.  But I knew he REALLY wanted this.  He is a good kid.  And I REALLY wanted him to have friends and fun.  Some part of me didn't want to disappoint him.  For a split second, I actually considered it.
But then the bigger part of me...the part that is the Grown Up...the part that is the Good Mom...spoke up.  And I knew I had to say no.
Later that night, I talked it over with Hubby, and then called Parker into the kitchen.
"I need to tell you something.  You know your plans for Friday night...?"
"-are gonna work!" he interrupted hopefully.
"There isn't gonna be a grown-up there."  I said.
His face fell.  But he just groaned and said, "Ok."  Then he went back downstairs to watch tv.  He didn't like it, but he understood it and wasn't going to fight it.  That's the kind of kid he is.
I was thinking, "This SUCKS!"
And then Dad saved the day.
"Hey," he said suddenly.  "Why don't the girls just come over here?  We will be home and they can watch the movie here until the other parents get home."
We floated the idea by Parker and he happily agreed.
And that is how we came to have two giggly girls and two only-recently-macho boys (of COURSE the neighbor boy came over!) in our basement on a Friday night...eating my homemade pizza and looking up music videos on the computer and hoola hooping on the wii.  Having all kinds of teenage fun.  Because they aren't Grown Up yet, and they shouldn't have to be.  I want them to have the fun they ARE ready for without the responsibility they AREN'T ready for.
So I will continue to make sure my son gets to be the kid he is.
And I will be the Grown Up.

Dance

So I thought Hillary was laid back about dances.  But I swear her brother makes her look like a diva by comparison.
He talked about Homecoming all week...the pep assemblies...the spirit days...the moves the band would do at Friday's game...but nary a word about the Dance.  A co-worker who has a son the same age asked me if Parker was going.  I replied that I had no idea.
And then, on the way to the Football game that night, Parker (who had to be there early) called Hillary on her cell phone.  He wondered if we had already left the house.  He needed us to bring him some clothes for the dance.  Which would start in 3 hours immediately following the game.  Total afterthought.  No big deal.
So after the halftime show (at which the band totally ROCKED, by the way) we followed him into the band room as he stripped off his outer uniform.
Me - "So what clothes, exactly, do you want?"
Parker - looking at Hillary - shrugging - "You just pick me out something."
Are you serious???
The two of them finally decided on the perfect outfit and Hillary made him promise to dance with a girl.
Then she and I ran home and gathered the goods.  We got back just as the game was ending and handed the mess of clothes and shoes to Parker.  He went off to change and (I found out later) walk into the dance through the back band door because he hadn't even bought a ticket.  Talk about playing it  loose!
But he came home with a smile on his face and stories to tell.  His first high school dance now just a fresh memory.
And I am reminded one more time that life doesn't have to be planned out ahead of time.  And it's ok to let your friends and your sister help you out.  Because it's not about what you wear.  You still get to DANCE!

Holding On and Letting Go

We all hold our babies.
Rock them to sleep.  Wash them with sweet smelling soap.  Kiss the top of their fuzzy head.  Wipe the poop off their chubby cheeks.  Strap them to our bodies as we do necessary grown-up stuff.
Then they start to walk and talk and our touch becomes more instructional.
Stop their arm before they can smack their sibling.  Hand over hand as they learn how to print the wobbly letters of their name.  Brush her hair into pigtails.  Guide his hand as he throws the ball.
And soon they are learning with only your words guiding them. And the space between you grows.
"Put the bowls on TOP and the plates on BOTTOM."  "Buckle your seat belt."  "Keep both hands on the wheel."  "Be home by midnight."
And finally, they are fully functional without you.  They feed themselves, dress themselves, manage their own relationships.  And they don't need your touch at all.
And that is when the beautiful part happens.
The part where they seek your touch because they WANT to...not because they NEED you.
Like tonight when Hillary brought her homework to the couch...sitting close to me while she worked and I did a crossword puzzle.  Or later when Parker sat on the porch swing with me and snuggled under my arm talking about his day at school and a tv show he'd watched and his new motorcycle.
But you only get this part...this holding on...by letting go.
And it's scary because you are never sure that if you let go, they will come back to you.  There is a moment of free choice where they could choose to run far and fast.
But you hold your breath and take the risk.  And their turning to you is so much sweeter than your holding on.
 

Marching Band Friday

Friday was so Fabulous!  The weather was beautiful...it was "jeans" day at work...and it was the night of the first home football game of the year.  Normally, I don't get too jazzed about football, except when it means the marching band will take the field.  My trumpet boy would don the official uniform for the first time and march with the rest of the Wildcat Pride out onto our new and improved Field of Pride.  Sure, people pretend to come to watch football...but we all know it's really about the band!
The Queen accompanied me, causing men, women, boys, and girls to call out hellos to us as we made our way to our seats. We sat right by the Band Section.  Hillary leaned over and said, "It's so weird to be here NOT as a student."
I snapped as many pictures as I could before Parker gave me the "not cool anymore, mom" look, and Hillary and I watched as our usually not-so-great team actually scored.  We cheered and clapped and as boys pounded each other into the ground I secretly thought to myself "Thank GOD Parker quit football!"
And then it was time...

They went to the field...and I went to the fence.  No one would have to wonder what I was here for.

They sounded great.  I cheered and hollered like a Band Geek Groupie.  I congratulated the Band Director on a job well done.  I texted my husband, who was working the "chain gang".  And then I went home a happy woman.  Yes, there was still half a football game to play.  (They won and the crowd went wild...or so I was told).  But I had seen what I'd come for.  Marching Band Friday was over.  At least until next weekend.