May I Help You?

Having children has changed the way I see.
I used to be able to sit comfortably in my prejudices, expecting flawless service at restaurants and expecting the person in the blue vest to know immediately where I could find the toothpicks without having to ask someone on the other end of their walkie-talkie.
I didn't see people.  I saw uniforms.
And now, all I can see when the young waitress brings out our steaks is my own daughter's face.  And I smile and say Everything's Fine when my baked sweet potato has cinnamon on it even though I asked for it plain. And I wonder if she's been yelled at that night...or broken a dish in the kitchen.  I leave a tip without begrudging it.
And when that boy is scanning my items in Wal-Mart, I look at his name tag and wonder if he likes to ride four-wheelers in the snow in his free time.  And if he hates wearing those khakis as much as my Parker would.  And I think, very soon this could BE Parker.
Maybe it's because I'm getting older that everyone else looks so young.
Or maybe it's because noticing the details of my own growing-up children makes me see them in others.
So I try to be more patient.  I try to make eye contact and give genuine smiles.  I wipe stray crumbs into my empty plate and stack our unwanted dishes neatly.  I make sure I am quick to grab the bags off the turn-table and load my own cart.
Because these aren't my children.
But they are SOMEbody's children.
But, then again, aren't we all?
"Do to others as you would like them to do to you."  Luke 6:31 NLT
or
"Do to others' children as you would like them to do to yours."  Luke 6:31 Paraphrase by Me

I will extend Grace.  I will give love.
And I think our Father will approve.

Flower Girl

I've never been that woman who keeps her table decorated.
Oh, there was that short period, when I was a new bride with matching placemats, napkin rings, and place settings.  But the placemats were soon stained with baby food and the napkin rings were more useful as a toy for my toddler.
Besides, I like clean lines and blank spaces.
Unfortunately, my family likes to FILL blank spaces.  So more often than not, my table and countertops are covered with stuff like this...

and this....

And even when Hillary isn't making an art project and Parker isn't taking apart the old broken toaster, and I manage to remove all the dirty dishes and put away the clean laundry, it isn't long before it's covered again with discarded coats and my purse and keys and the electric bill and someone's half empty Sonic cup.
Alas, I am usually more interested in Practicality than Prettiness.
But God gave me a Girl to remind me that there is beauty in the world and it's important.
From the medicine cup containing two dandelions and a tiny purple weed when she was 5, to the wildflowers she cut and arranged in a vase last summer, she occasionally surprises me with bits of beauty for our table.
On Valentines day, she got real flowers.  Beautiful flowers delivered in a tissue filled box with a card that said, "From a friend."
And instead of keeping them in her room, which I probably would have done at her age, she snipped the ends and filled the vase with the packet of flower food, and arranged the bobbing blossoms right in the middle of our kitchen table.

And every time I pass my scratched and scarred old table, I am caught by the beauty and color and soft sweet scent.
My Flower Girl has opened my eyes to so much that is Pleasant in this world...an interesting photograph, a funky piece of jewelry, a melody written from the heart, a flower in a vase.  She reminds me that beauty is worth taking time for.
I am so thankful for this Flower Girl...without her, my life would never have Bloomed.

Feed the Children

I picked Parker and his friend (who is staying yet another weekend with us) from school.
As Parker swung his big bag into the backseat and moooooved the driver's seat back to accommodate his longer legs, he threw out "We should go to McDonald's."
I just shrugged.  I knew he needed to eat before going BACK to the school in an hour to play his final basketball game of the season.  I didn't care where the food came from.
He went on, "Cuz Alexa wants to go there."
Oh.
"So you want to meet her there?" I ask.
"No, she wants food from there.  She swears she'll pay us back."
Whatever.  I nodded and made sure my seatbelt was fastened securely as he managed to hit every pothole between the parking lot and the stop light.  His friend sat mute in the back seat.
Looking handsome in his button-up shirt, nice jeans, and silver chain...and driving casually with one hand he said over his shoulder, "Hey Shawn, grab that cd case."
And then it was my job to search for his latest mix cd and get the party started.
We bounced and boomed safely to McDonald's where he made the poor girl on the other side of the speaker wait through long pauses as he and Shawn decided what they wanted to eat, and then, through a combination of texts and phone calls, placed Alexa's order.
They didn't even ask what I wanted.
Not that it mattered because I don't eat that kind of food.
We pulled up to the window and I asked Parker, "Do you have money?"
He just laughed.
I fished out my debit card and made a big show of rolling down the window and saying loudly "Anyone else need anything to eat?  My mom's paying!"
Even Mr. Mute in the back seat laughed out loud.
They got their food and I got the bill.  And then they went back into the school leaving me with the smell of hamburgers in the air and a laugh in my heart...poorer in one way and richer in another.
I just smiled and rolled my eyes.  If I can make 3 teenagers happy for $11.12, I'll count myself blessed indeed.

On My Side

It had been a really long day.
So even though it was hours from most normal people's bedtime, I was ensconced in my king-sized nest, kindle in hand, planning to stay there til morning.
Parker sauntered in, took one look at me, and said, "Oh man..you are totally in my spot."
What?!
Apparently, Hubby had taken over the big screen tv downstairs, forcing Parker to retreat to his second favorite spot in the house...my bed with my tv and my remote control.  Normally, I don't care that he is keeping my side of the bed warm while I am flitting about doing laundry, grading spelling tests, or blogging.  When I'm ready to retire, I boot him out, turn off the tv, and fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.
But tonight I had to give him a hard time.
"This is MY side of the bed, buster.  And MY room and MY tv!"
He just laughed at me from the corner of his eyes and wormed under the covers in the middle of the bed and launched into a long story about how I used to sleep on the OTHER side of the bed and he remembers because he used to come in at night when he was scared and have to walk all the way around the bed to get to DAD'S side because I was too hard hearted to let him in bed with us.
He turned on some reality show about men who build guns and I rolled my eyes and went back to my novel.  But I smiled inside because I had totally forgotten how he used to come climb in our bed at night.  It's been so long ago and he seems so grown up now.  But I cherish that memory now, like I'll cherish the memory of this moment some day in the future when I have the bed and the house all to myself.
I'm happy that, for now, he's still on my side.

Good Night

I drove into the sunset, headed to yet another basketball game.  Alone.
I had left the dishes in the sink, the laundry on the floor, my sister's dog at the vet, and my children to fend for themselves.  Hillary was picking Parker up from practice.  I felt like a Slacker Mom...depending on my older child to take care of the younger one.  What was I doing?  Why was I killing myself to get to an event I don't even care that much about when I really just wanted to be home with my kids for the evening?
And then I got Hillary's facebook status update on my phone...
"Dinner and a movie with my lil bro!  Good way to end a great day!"
and I was happy and sad at the same time.
Four quarters and one overtime later, after a game that had ended badly, I stood in the hallway outside the locker room consoling my coach husband and rubbing away the beginnings of his migraine, and I knew why I had come.
Because I'm not just a Mom.  I'm also a Wife.
And there's enough of me to go around.

When I finally did get home, I made myself a snack and texted the kids from upstairs.
"Meet on my bed in 5 min?"
And they did.
I lay in between my favorite guy and girl and got updated on Jazz Choir, friendships, Algebra grades, GVC band (Parker got 8th chair...yay!), and the upcoming Homecoming plans.
I laughed a lot.
Finally, fatigue caught up with me and I hugged and kissed and thanked my kids for spending time with me.
We said Good Night.
And it was.

It's been too long.
Too long since I've been so inspired I kick the kids off the computer, turn on the music, and stay up late to let a story flow from my fingers.
When days go by with nothing to say, I know I'm getting off track.  Staying busy with things that don't matter, and not taking time to notice the things that do.  Getting through the lesson plans but not looking my students in the eyes.  Dreading the cold of throwing the covers back instead of savoring the last minute of my husband's warm back against mine.  Keeping my eyes on the white line of the road to yet another ball game, without looking up to see the gorgeous orange sunset in front of me.
I forget to feed my soul.  And she suffers.
Saturday morning, I made the effort to spend some much needed girl time with friends...and it was good.  I was reminded for the second time in a week that we are "human beings - not human doings" and that I need to remember to BE even as I live this crazy, wonderful, necessarily busy life.
I left that happy bubble to drive 60 miles the opposite direction to watch Parker play ball.  Then left him to ride the bus home and drove 100 miles in the opposite direction yet again to watch Hubby coach ball.  Then stopped by the grocery store and my sister's house before finally dragging home.
Both my kids were lounging in front of a fire and an old movie.
I made myself a snack, kicked off my cute but painful shoes, and joined them.
I didn't really care about the movie.  But it was so nice just to be in the same room with them.  Breathing the same air, and not DOING anything.
Just BEING with them fills my heart back up...makes me vow to be better.
And now I sit at the computer, music on, because the story isn't over...

Flip the Script

What kind of mother allows boys to turn her living room into a gymnastics studio?
The kind who has had a few too many snow days, I guess.

I started the morning watching out my kitchen window as my snow-suited son and his friends from next door played on the 4 wheeler.

They went around and around, taking turns getting thrown off the board as it slid into the corner.  Little B, 10 years younger than the others, hung with the big boys like a pro, making me laugh from the safety of my warm spy-spot.  

Before long they stomped inside, spilling snow and showing off rosy cheeks as they peeled off layers and left them at my back door. 

Hmmmm...

What to do now?

How about haul some mattresses into the living room and do flips?

I had misgivings, but they convinced me they wouldn't break anything...including their own bones...and that they would NOT jump off the furniture.  

I came downstairs and tried to ignore the loud thumps from up above.

Until Little B came trotting down the stairs and said, "Fonda, I'm NOT hurt!"

I lost all resistance and went to join the fun...by snapping the flipping :)

But even I have my limits.  After THIS I gave them the "Ok...find something else to play" speech.  

This is why I love boys...the creativity, the spunk, the throaty laughs, the spark they bring to my house with their boy-ness.  God knew I needed this, even as I prayed for another girl when I found out I was pregnant for the second time.  

And, boy, did God get it right! 

I'm so glad he flipped my script.