Big Brave Adults

I've thought a lot about writing this post or not.  It's one of the first stories about Georgia that I've really considered not writing, out of respect for her.  I think about that more frequently as she's getting older and older and I wrestle with which stories are mine to tell and which stories are hers.  Ultimately, I decided that I wanted to write this story for her though. To let her know that being scared is okay.  There is no one who isn't scared sometimes, a lot of times, and that feeling is normal........and okay. And at one time or another in our lives......we've all failed.......we've all fallen short on something we've really wanted......and again, that's okay.

Georgia has wanted to get her ears pierced in the biggest way for about a month.  She talks about it almost everyday.  Multiple times.  She even plays ear piercing store with her stuffed animals and some kitchen tongs. I have never brought this topic up.  It's all her.  She initiated it and she continued it.  Chris and I have no magic age in our heads that we deem ear piercing appropriate or not and told her we were happy to take her to get it done if she really wanted to do it.  I was honest with her in telling her that sure, it hurts a little bit, but then the hurt goes away quickly and you look in the mirror and you're so excited that you have little sparkles on your ears.  She seemed okay with that.

Last Saturday she announced that she wanted to head to the mall after church on Sunday and do the deed. She was firm.  She couldn't wait to go to bed on Saturday night so she'd wake up faster and we could go to church quicker and then we'd go to the mall.  Come Sunday morning I didn't bring it up.  I truly wanted this to be her decision.  But sure enough within a half n'hour of being up Georgia shrieked that this was the day she was getting her ears pierced.  And she repeated that shriek every ten minutes or so until we pulled into a parking spot at the mall.  She practically sprinted to Claire's laughing the whole way.  Chris and I kept giving each other little looks that said, "Do you really think she'll do it?"  "She's surprised us before." "We'll be so proud of her." And I was telling myself, "She'll look so darn cute!"

We picked out earrings, little sparkle pink flowers, and hopped up in the chair.  No crack in the armor.

She told Chris to take a picture of her ears.  Her ears for the last time without any holes in them.

As the earrings got taken out of their packaging, the sterile wipes came out, and Georgia saw the white guns placed on the counter she started to falter a little bit. 

And I expected that.  Getting your ears pierced is a 'big deal rite of passage' for little girls and as ready as you are to get it done, it's scary, and there will be tears, and last minute hesitations, and I knew that as her mom I'd probably need to do a little coaxing when it came right down to it.  I knew she'd be happy in the end and we all need encouragement sometimes to do scary things that those who have gone before us know aren't really all that scary when it comes right down to it.  

But she started to cry harder.  That kind of cry where it's hard to catch your breath.  And she told me she wanted me to hug her the whole time they were piercing her ears.  I told her I couldn't do that.  And she cried harder and said she wanted to get down.  So I helped her down.  And she cried harder.  Too hard to get your ears pierced.  We walked out of the store for a bit to see if she'd calm down and it just got worse.  

When we told Georgia that it was okay, she didn't have to get her ears pierced, it was no big deal, it infuriated her.  The thought that we believed she wasn't brave or couldn't do something was more than she could handle and she fell apart.  And as her parents we decided that she wasn't ready....at least not that day. We scooped her up and carried her out to the car and she kept crying, huge sobs.  And it broke my heart. It's the first time I've seen her truly upset that she wasn't able to do something.  Not because she was physically incapable but emotionally and mentally.  She couldn't get herself there and the defeat that she felt was too much for her.  

She calmed down over the course of the car ride home and we quickly involved her in a game of hide and seek when walked in the door.  I asked her about two hours later how she was feeling about her ears.  She told me that she'd stopped thinking about it and she wanted to talk to me about it tomorrow.  I gave her that space. 

On Monday she asked me, "Mommy, when I'm a brave adult like you I won't be scared to do things will I?  Like get my ears pierced.  I'll never be afraid of something when I get big and I can't wait for that." 

I kissed her on the head and replied,"Georgia.  Everyone is afraid of something.  Everyone.  Even grown-ups.  I'm afraid of something almost everyday.  And sometimes I ignore that fear and just do the thing I'm afraid of.  And sometimes I'm too afraid and decide not to do that thing.  And both are okay."  

She wanted an example. 

I told her I was afraid to bring her to swimming lessons because it made me sad to see her cry about it--and nothing makes a mommy sad like seeing her little girl sad, but I did it anyway because I wanted her to be safe in the water and it is a good thing for little girls to know how to swim.  And now?  I reminded her how she could go under water by herself. She smiled at that.

"So grown ups aren't always brave?  Is that really true?," she confirmed. 

"Right. There is no one that is brave all the time. But a lot of times scary things are worth it.  However, if you decide that it's just too scary don't do it, and that's okay, it's completely okay and you don't need to be mad at yourself for it."

I continued to explain that she needed to stop being upset with herself for not getting her ears pierced; for being too scared.  There would be so many opportunities to try it again and that daddy and I would take her whenever she felt ready. 

She says she wants to try it again on Friday.  And I'm happy to help her try. 

I'm also happy to walk next to her if it doesn't go well.  To help her see that not accomplishing a goal, failing at something, is okay sometimes.  It's not the end of the world.  It's not an opportunity to beat yourself up.  And in the end we all do it.  And goodness.....we're not going to have a meltdown over it. 

All this seems easy.  It's ear piercing.  But one day it will be a strained friendship, not making a team, not receiving an award, making a bad decision about a social situation, not getting into the college of her dreams, not landing that perfect job, or working through a problem with her own children..........the list of things we can fall short on never ends and I have to show her in these early formative years how to fall short, how to deal with it, and how to get back up.  Sometimes over and over. 

We might find ourselves back in this chair tomorrow.  If we do........fantastic.  If we don't.........eh........we're learning how to fail, how to be scared, and how to say, "right now just isn't the right time...........and that's okay."

Because none of us....none of us are 'big brave adults' all the time, and our kids need to know that. 

I am a builder.

Fighting.  I feel like I'm getting really good at fighting with my four year old.  Actually, that's not true.  I suck at it.  And no matter how many times I say the proverbial parent line, "I'm not arguing with you about this.  Mommy is deciding," or the  Love & Logic moniker, "I love you too much to argue with you," we fight.  And it is exhausting.

We fight about socks, jeans that look like boy jeans, jeans that look like mom jeans (seriously--she called a pair of jeans 'mom jeans' today--I own no such thing), where I brush her hair after a bath, the volume on her music before bed, why she can't eat brownies for breakfast, why she can't eat cereal out of a box in the car--the actual cereal box, why I don't know the answer to how big a beaver dam is (that's right ,keep laughing--it's real funny when you're the one explaining how beavers knock down trees for the thousandth time and the explanation is still not sufficing), and on it goes.

And one of the most frustrating pieces of advice triviality that people tell new parents is "pick your battles."  Yeah, I think we all get it.  I'm not going to fight over what bow Georgia wants to wear in her hair, what pair of (reasonable) shoes she wants to wear, how long she wants to hang out in the bathtub, what pajamas she chooses, or how many stuffed animals she wants piled in her bed every night.....but some things........they're not going to be battles because the outcome isn't negotiable.

Enter.......the inevitable fight.  The growing pains.  The hard work.  And I'm choosing to clutch tightly to the other thing everyone tells first-time parents, "It's just a phase."  That this head-butting of sorts will pass and something else will take its place until more head-butting of the tween variety sets in.

I say all that to say that in the process of these little moments (which makes them sound cuter) I have to remember that I am a builder.  I so badly want to say things to my daughter in the midst of these disputes out of frustration, anger, irritation, and sheer humanity.......but I have to bite my tongue.  Does that mean no correction? No consequences? No hard lessons? Definitely not.

But it means I need to watch my words.  Because frequently the words that we, that our children, remember with the most accuracy and clarity out of all the amazing ones that will ever be spoken to them are the ones that cut.

I can distinctly remember three different comments made to me while growing up, all before the age of ten that hurt.  A lot.  I remember who said them to me, where I was when they were said, what it smelled like, what I'd done right before they were said, what I was wearing........everything.......because they were hard comments.  Unnecessary.  They didn't build me up.  They weren't constructive.  They hurt. And I carry the ramifications of them as a thirty five year old.

And if you're honest--I bet you have them too.
And I'm not naive enough to think that my daughter won't have them.
I'd just like to do my best to reduce the amount of them she attributes to me.
I want to be her builder.
And building is hard work.  Things need to be readjusted, taken apart, reevaluated, secured, repaired, and contemplated.  A good builder doesn't destroy their project mid-stream because something is frustrating about it, not going well, a little different than originally envisioned, or taking longer than originally thought.  A good builder keeps plugging along.  Making intentional decisions and consistent progress.

I'm her builder.
And I write this today more of a reminder for myself than for anyone else.  Getting it out.  Hitting publish.  It's for me.  I need to feel convicted of it in the midst of an embattled week.........

If you're there too, you're not alone.  Just remember......we're builders.  And sometimes it's really hard.

Spring Break {My favorite}

There pretty much isn't any other time of the year that I love going on vacation as much as spring break.   There's something liberating about escaping a too long winter here in Michigan to someplace sandy, warm, salty, and that makes my hair as big as Monica Gellar's in Barbados.  (YouTube that bad boy if you haven't seen it already).

We went back to Destin, Florida this year.  An easy-ish drive (minus the never-ending flat and brown state of Indiana) with kids and such a beautiful part of Florida.  Our amazing friends came with us this year and that whole "taking a gamble on vacationing with friends and hoping they're still your friends when you return" thing paid off in spades....like we knew it would.  We had SO MUCH fun!  Too much fun to put in words.....................



And the video that didn't make the montage cut..............



My friend Rachel being serenaded by the bakery boy at Publix.  He offered to sing her a song if she'd buy an Apple Pie.  I think he thought we were Paula Abdul and Randy Jackson in disguise and we'd be whipping out a golden ticket to Hollywod if we deemed him good enough.

Paula and Randy we are not.
The pie was good though.
Not as good as the vacation though.

Tonight, I'm so aware of how fantastic it is to have such great friends and am thankful for the irreplaceable week we got to spend together.

Thanks Hammonds!  Cheers to Ariel Dunes 610.

One sec.....

Just,

Let me finish these dishes.
Let me quick send this e-mail.
Let me throw this load of laundry in the dryer.
Let me sweep the kitchen floor really fast.
Let me go pop this in the mailbox.
Let me bring these upstairs.
Let me make my bed.
Let me get dinner started.
Let me grab a fast shower.
Let me give daddy a call a minute.
Let me have a conversation with the neighbor.
Let me write these last two checks.
Let me read this article.
Let me watch this news-story.
Let me dust the dresser.
Let me empty the dishwasher.

Ugh.

I hate that.  I hate that little phrase, "One sec.....let me_______________."
I hate it. Not because kids don't need to learn to wait; there are legitimate things to be done and kids need to see us doing them, and even help.  I hate it because when I hear it come back at me out of my four year olds mouth I know it's because she might hear it just a little bit too much.  And she might hear it about things that don't need to get done right now or she might hear it too many times in row, breaking my promise of that word just--as if one thing is all I'm going to do before I watch her do a pirouette, help her dress her baby, button her dress up dress, straighten her socks, read her a book, draw with her, dance to Fresh Beat Band, give her doll a bath, or build a fort.

So on that note...........
I'm going on a little blogging vacation until April 8th or so.  I'm hoping to say a lot of things like,

Let me take a walk with you.
Let me do a craft with you.
Let me paint your toe-nails.
Let me play chase with you.
Let me eat ice-cream with you.
Let me watch that show with you.
Let me join your tea party.
Let me show you how to use that cookie cutter.
Let me paint a picture at your table with you.
Let me tell you a story from when I was a little girl.

Let me.......just be with you.

Thirty Six Things I Love About This Guy.

Chris turns thirty six today.  Thirty six!  I've known him since he was nineteen, started dating him when he was twenty, married him when he was twenty three, and have been thankful for him and in love with him all the days in between.  Sometimes I really can't believe I get to call him my husband and that he gave the girl that dumped him a second chance.  That's right.  I dumped him.  On Valentine's Day.  After he gave me a present.

I'm a jerk.

Happy Birthday Babe.  Here's thirty-six things I love about you.  There's about a bajillion more.

1.  He makes me laugh.  Harder than anyone else.  Almost everyday.  I could list all of our inside jokes--but that'd just be obnoxious.

2.  He works so hard for our family. And he loves his job.  I love that.

3.  He sets the table for me every night.

4.  He loves our daughter like crazy.  The feeling is mutual.  And to see the two of them together is magic.

5.  He's smart and amazing with words.

6.  He folds laundry for me.

7.  He's so friendly.....to everyone.

8.  He lets me buy him stuff like white jeans and suede shoes and he'll wear them and look pretty amazing in them.

9.  He's disciplined.

10.  He loves Jesus.

11.  He reads books.

12.  He hates going to movies--but he'll do it for me.

13.  He doesn't complain. Ever.

14.  When he laughs hard, really hard, it's so awesome.

15.  He's athletic.

16.  He reads every one of my posts on Pink Shoes.

17.  He makes me feel safe.

18.  He laughs at my clothes, tells me some of them are crazy, and then tells me I'm beautiful in them.

19.  He's honest with me when I'm being ridiculous.

20.  He takes Georgia on dates like going out for donuts every single Saturday morning.

21.  He is literally the worlds best pancake maker.

22.  After our first date, our sophomore year of college, he told his brother he'd met the girl he was going to marry.  I dumped him the next month.  When I came to my senses a year and half later (and he'd grown his hair long and gotten an earring) he took me back......after some groveling on my part.

23.  He can fly airplanes and I think that's pretty hot.

24.  He brings me flowers--sometimes......just because.

25.  He's objective and really tries to see both sides before making a decision.

26.  He always tells me thank-you for making dinner, doing the laundry, cleaning the house, and going grocery shopping.

27.  If I want to do something, he wants me to try and supports me through it.

28.  He works hard at our marriage and wants it to be better everyday.

29.  He shows Georgia everyday how a man should treat her.

30.  He has the best hands.  I pretty much wouldn't date a guy if he had girl hands--his passed the test and still do.

31.  He knows, he just knows, when I need a break.

32.  When he found out Georgia was a girl he was thrilled.  He was made to be a daddy to a little girl.

Georgia....one day old. 

33.  When I'm impatient, he's patient.  When I'm frustrated, he's calm.  When I'm freaking out, he's not. We balance each other out.

34.  Politics.  He loves them and can talk about them forever.  I love that.

35.  He gets up with Georgia every Saturday morning so I can sleep in.  Seriously.  That's amazing.  How did I not put that as number one?

36.  He's mine.

Just think....in thirty six more years we'll be 72.  Yikes.  We need to start looking for that condo in Puerto Vallarta.  STAT.