Heels to Toes

Hillary is always doing crazy stuff for her college art classes...hanging mirrors from the ceiling...popping paint-filled balloons with darts...forcing me to frolic through a cotton field while she takes film shots of "movement". But this week she came home with an assignment that had her head over heels.

She was supposed to make a shoe out of paper. 

It had to "represent" her personality.

She couldn't use any tape, glue, or other adhesive.

She had to be able to WALK ACROSS THE ROOM in them.

It sounded impossible to me, but Hillary was undaunted.  She took to the challenge like a true Disney heroine, optimistically declaring that she would make a high heel shoe which would impress her teacher and be the envy of all the other lazy students making moccasins by wrapping brown paper bag around their feet.  I'm pretty sure there were bluebirds flying around with ribbon in their beaks and mice marching behind her armed with needles and thread.

She set about cutting her Cosmo into strips and rolling coils of paper into a sturdy sole.

She spent hours over the next several days, curling and coiling, planning and pleating, trying and tweaking, only to find it wasn't working and start all over again.

Her spirits flagged, but only a bit.

Like any good American, she believed with enough determination and hard work, she could spin straw into gold...or at least bend this paper to her will.

 But the due date loomed and she still had nothing but a shabby sole.

I've gotta tell ya, by this point I would have been cheating.  A little glue...a staple here and there...or maybe I would have used envelopes and claimed it wasn't MY fault if they already had glue on them and they accidentally got wet while I was cobbling and helped my shoe stick together.

But, ever obedient, Hillary hobbled on, determined to finish the assignment.  

Eventually she did prevail and made it to class with these...

I don't think Jimmy Choo is calling anytime soon.

Later, Hillary was telling her dad and me about the other student's shoes.  No one else had even attempted anything other than a flat piece of paper held on to their feet by a couple of stringy strips.  They explained it by saying things like, "I made a sandal.  It's open because I'm such an open person."

These are the kind of people who go into politics.

"And the lesson learned today is...?" I prompted.  To which Hillary replied, "Don't be an overachiever?"

"Exactly!  Sometimes you just do what it takes to get by and BS the rest until it works!" 

She laughed.  Which was kind of the point.
While I am proud of her ambition, I also know that she (like her mother) has a tendency to set impossible goals for herself, hoping to impress her teachers/friends/the world.
We both know how to make things way harder than they have to be. Sometimes pouring all your energy into the wrong thing makes your high-heel dreams turn out to be more like a ratty house slipper.
Lesson learned...
Heels or no, this college thing is keeping us both on our toes!

Good Talk

When your kids are little, it's easy to check off the developmental milestones.
Crawling...check.
First steps...check.
Potty training...check.
First lost tooth...check.
But as they get older, the changes are more subtle.  And more embarrassing to talk about.  It would be easy to just let it go and pray that the kid who still occasionally calls me "mommy" will magically avoid the complicated desires of young adulthood and keep his innocence even as his body morphs into Man.  But "easy" very rarely coincides with "parenting".
And so I found myself opening a conversation with Parker as he was standing in the kitchen waiting on his pizza to finish baking.
"I'd like to talk to you about some stuff.  And it's probably going to be embarrassing, but its important."
A light flush of pink began to creep up his neck, but he said ok.
I kept my eyes on my popcorn so as not to be intimidating, and asked him about his thoughts on facing certain temptations, and if he had a plan on how he might handle them.
To his credit, he took a deep breath...and answered me.
His blush went away and my eyes found their way back to his face and we had a nice conversation about the things he believes about himself and others...goals in life...hopes and dreams...and the very practical steps it would take to help him live out his beliefs and reach his goals.  The oven timer went off, but the conversation didn't end.  And over pizza we chatted about everything from sex to alcohol to peer pressure to relationships. The boy who answers texts with one-letter responses had a lot of surprisingly grown-up things to say.
When all that was left was pizza crumbs and a few popcorn kernels, Parker stood up and stretched.  But before he sauntered off to watch tv, he gave me a quick hug and said, "Good talk, Mom."
And it was.
This isn't the first time we've talked about things like sex and drugs.  And it won't be the last.  And that's the point...I want my children to be able to talk to me about whatever is happening in their lives, without giving any particular topic so much tight-lipped weight that it can't be lifted into words, silently crushing us before we acknowledge it.
So I'll listen.  And occasionally I'll bring it up.  And every talk may not be easy.
But any talk is Good.

Picture This

No better friend.  No greater enemy.
That's the only way to describe the relationship between my children.
Publicly they get along fine.  They know how to play the role of Good Children.
Sometimes they even fool me.

They go on Happy Hour runs to Sonic together.  They share new music with each other.  They laugh together...mostly while making fun of their dad's clothes or my attempts at Pilates in the living room.
But sprinkled generously between bouts of goodwill are sparks of annoyance that occasionally produce wildfires that require me to do some stomping out.
They fight over who sits where in the car...in the living room...even in church.
They blame each other for eating all the cookies.  (Even though in reality, it was probably their dad)
They almost come to blows over who is going to do really hard chores around the house (like turn the light off in the kitchen).
So when I catch them in a moment like this... I have to document it.

Photography is one area where they ALWAYS get along.  Hillary loves taking pictures and Parker just happens to love looking cool.  She tells him what to do...and he does it.  She gets to practice doing something she loves...and he gets tons of cool facebook profile pics.  They spent lots of time doing this when we were in Memphis last weekend.

And when we were walking back to the car, I turned around to catch this moment...

It didn't last long...(I didn't get a picture of them glaring and whisper-fighting over who had to sit in the back seat when we got back to the car)...but it was real and spontaneous and lovely.  And I choose to believe that as they get older, the friendly moments will outweigh the fights.
But until then...I think I'll stand between them!

Mucho Gusto

When it's been too long since I've had my kids' attention all to myself, I call them in from the various rooms where they are watching separate tv shows and bribe them with food.

Tonight, it was Mexican.

We got all our favorite things. 

We didn't even need to see a menu.

We laughed a lot.

Everything was perfect.

They didn't even seem to care that I was wearing a Halloween t-shirt in July like a totally middle-aged mother.

And the waitress brought me Coke, even though the menu said they only had Pepsi.

We only had an hour.

But it was so worth it.

My kids bring me mucho gusto (much pleasure)!

Queen of Hearts

Hillary's reign is over.  After a year of parades and appearances, it came down to one final week.  She flitted through a flurry of activities with this year's contestants... emcee'd the children's beauty contest...

 which included doing the hokey pokey on stage in high heels...

and waved goodbye to her subjects in the parade as she threw candy to the kids.

She hosted the talent portion of this year's contest, looking beautiful and sounding professional as she introduced each new contestant and made encouraging remarks as they left the stage.  Then she gave the Finale a boost by belting Babs' "Don't Rain on My Parade".  

 I can't tell you how many people came up to me and made comments about how "wonderful" and "talented" she is and how she's "the best they've seen".  And I agree.  She was a Queen who made her Subjects proud.  But as a member of her inner court, I can tell you that she has more than outer beauty.    

The crowd watched as Hillary made her glamorous Final Walk and then crowned the new Queen.

But no one else saw what happened backstage afterward...

My thoughtful girl had purchased a sturdy but pretty box for the new Queen's crown and sash and had placed a letter inside giving her tips to make her duties easier and a list of things to expect.  She also included her phone number and offered her help anytime the new Queen needed something.  No one had done anything like this for us and we had stumbled our way through the State Fair finding things out as we went. It was sweet and thoughtful and so like my Hillary.

And later, when it was just her and I, Hillary said, "I'm so glad she won.  She's not the type who would do anything to embarrass the Fair Committee like being at a party with underage drinking and stuff."  I hadn't even considered that.  To me, this was just a Beauty Pageant...a way for girls to dress up and have fun.  But Hillary had taken it seriously, with a maturity that made me proud.  She consciously served her community all year, attending events and representing her county with grace and dignity.  She recognized that she was a role model.  And she used her power for good.

But I am not surprised.  Because Hillary has lived her life like this for a long time now.  She has known from early on she was a child of the King and she acts accordingly.  And others notice.

Just yesterday at church, a man sitting in front of me turned around to say, "I just want to tell you what a good job you've done with your kids.  Especially your daughter.  She seems like she's got her head on straight."  I just smiled and told him God had blessed us and it had nothing to do with me.  

But I wanted to say it has nothing to do with her head and everything to do with her heart.

Her reign may be over, but she remains the Queen of our heart.

Foreign

I have foreign toothpaste in my bathroom.

No, I didn't order it from the internet.  It was carried here in the suitcase of Hillary's best Swiss friend who is staying with us for a few weeks.  Swiss Miss is sweet and funny and beautiful.  And she is amazed at how many fat people ride around in motorized wheelchairs in America.
Hillary took her on a road trip to Chicago last week.  And despite the fears of some "mother hens" in the family, the girls made it without being mugged or murdered.  I was proud of the way Hillary took initiative and tried to plan ahead.  And of the way she went for it even as little fears nibbled at her toes.  (And I am thankful to Tony and Peter for hosting the girls and for all their advice!)

I share my heart and my home with my children.  And in return, they broaden my world.  I came home from bible study the other night to find my driveway full of unfamiliar cars.  And my basement full of friends.  Hillary and Swiss Miss were there along with a boy who had a pierced lip and a shy smile.  Parker and his friend, Hunter were downloading music from itunes, but stopped long enough to greet me with an exuberant hug that left my toes dangling inches from the floor for a few seconds.  There was music and laughter and German accented talking.  There was life in my family room.

I love that these two amazing people totally mess with my world.  I love that they live life with open arms.  I love that I find strange toothpaste in my bathroom, strange cars in my driveway, and strange music in my playlist.  This is my life and I love it.
Anything else would just seem...foreign.

Oh Baby!

It was another weekend of travel.  But this time it was my turn for Family Fellowship. My brother and his wife are having a baby!  The first one in the family since MY baby was born 15 years ago.

My brother and my "baby"

So we all descended on Mom and Dad's house and partied like pros.

There was much laughing and eating and hugging.  Doors were fanned...mosquitos were swatted...dogs were petted.  And games were played.  Parker and I were a team, and between his head full of "useless knowledge" and my ability to spell words correctly and backwards, we pretty much dominated at Cranium.

As the weekend came to an end, my mom commented on how she enjoyed watching me and my siblings get along and have fun together.  And I know just what she means.  There is just something about watching the ones you love, love each other that fills you up and puts a smile on your face.  And since the four of us live states away from each other, we don't take our time together for granted.  Petty annoyances are swatted to the side like pesky mosquitoes and we focus on the happiness of a few precious and rare hours together.

It's good to know that some things change...and some things never do.

As Parker drove me home (all 4 hours) he talked about the weekend and how much fun he had.  And seeing it through his eyes, I enjoyed it all over again.