Convenient Friends

I'm about to get on a soap box.  I just wanted to warn you.

Friends can be a beautiful gift or a painful reminder of deep hurt.  Friends can help carry you through or abandon you when you need them the most.  A friend is someone who laughs with you, not at you; who cries with you, not because of you.  A friend sacrifices for you.  A true friend will be "there" through the ups and downs of life, the good and the bad.

"There" is the optimal word.  It doesn't have to be physically.  But "there" counts.  It's critical actually, because it's that one word that proves the friendship.  If someone really knows you, they know how to read between the lines of what you say versus what you mean. They can see the light go in or out of your eyes.  They can hear the life and joy (or lack of it) in your voice.  They can understand the subtle nuances of your behavior and actions.

This type of friendship can only come from time spent together.  Quality time, not necessarily quantity.  It is not always comfortable or convenient.  You can't hurry this type of friendship.  It often goes places you'd rather not, uncomfortable places of arguments, miscommunication, misunderstandings and unmet expectations.  If you love someone enough, you go through those places with them.  You fight for what's important.  You love someone enough to wrestle through the hard times.  If you don't, you never valued the other enough to call them friend.

Unfortunately, now-a-days, our social media has watered down the definition of friendship to "who you know".  That's really all it takes.  They say it makes friendship easier.  Nothing worthwhile ever comes easy.  I don't want to share my life with my "friend" in small snip-its in some vast chat room.  I want them to really, honestly care.  I know that it is inconvenient to truly care in today's society.  Because caring takes time and who has that anymore?  We're too harried and over scheduled to develop lasting friendships.

Social media allows you to turn your friends on and off when its convenient for you.  That's not what true friendship is about.  An honest to goodness friend should care less about whether or not time with you is convenient to their schedule.  A true friend would rather incur an inconvenience on your behalf and never even mention it to you because your friendship is that important.

I pray my children will learn the "old fashion" meaning of friendship.  I wanted to write it down here so they would have a point of reference as they grow older and wiser.  I fear for the state of friendship in the world my children inherit.  I pray they be the kind of friend they wish to have.  I hope they see social media friends as 'acquaintances' or 'people I used to know' or 'friends of convenience' rather than that true heart to heart friend.  I pray they don't substitute connecting on social media with a 'friend' as time spent investing in that friend.  I pray they take time for the people in their lives that are important to them. I hope they learn how to be the friend the wish to have.

(photo credit: https://www.healthline.com/health/how-social-media-is-ruining-relationships#1)

How Do You Spell...

As the kids were all gathered around the island after school today, each doing various homework-like activities, I decided to start quizzing Chloe on her spelling words.  But she informed me that she was deep in thought on a particular math problem and she couldn't acquiesce me at the moment.

Thankfully for me, Bennett wasn't busy doing anything but shoveling goldfish in his face and was eager to volunteer in Chloe's stead.  "Oh, Mom!  Please let me do Chloe's spelling words!"

"Uh.  Ok.  If you insist."

I then proceed to give him all the words on Chloe's sheet.  He is actually excited about spelling them and coming up with the appropriate and timely funny sentence to help us all get a better grasp of the meaning.

Chloe is suddenly free from her cumbersome math problems and proceeds to spell all the same words I just finished giving to her brother.

Gavin is at the island sewing a patch on his Tae-Kwon-Do uniform.  He's hyped about getting to sew.  He is now taking a Family & Consumer Sciences class in school and has been eager to show off his new found skill of button sewing and needle threading.  He seriously is thrilled that I've taught him how to sew on the patch that I previously sewed on upside down and had to rip out.  Not to be left out as he's haunched over with his sewing needle he begs, "Mom, can you ask me how to spell some words too?"

I can't believe this.  Since when do all my kids want me, no, beg me to quiz them on spelling words?  I find this very ironic since I'm not a huge stickler on spelling.  And now suddenly everyone wants to prove their spelling prowess to me.  So, here I am making up words (looking around the kitchen to find a word for him to spell) like: psychopath, camera, chandelier, corduroy, levy.  The only one of those words that I actually found in the kitchen was a camera.  I have no idea where the other words came from.  I didn't even know how to accurately spell them until I sat down to type this.  Funny how the brain works.

Who Do You Say That I Am?

 You see these two, lovely ladies?  Why in the world would I put a picture of them on my blog?

Excellent question!  I'd like to answer that with a story:

I have 'celebrity issues'.  Apparently, people love to tell me who I resemble in The Movies.  Not. Good.  This causes me immense distress and constant paranoia wondering WHY they would think of me in such a manner.  I obsess over it day and night.  I wonder exactly what part of the movie did they start thinking I resembled the aforementioned celebrity.  Was it the way she looked?  How she talked?  What she wore?  Her character?  Her smart alek remarks?  Her no-nonsense attitude?  Tell me the WHOLE STORY please!  You can't just flippantly say, "Ya, when I watched this movie it reminded me of you."  Seriously?!  There is so much more we need to talk about.  Now.  Let's explore our feelings here.

Someone (I know quite well) told me, "You HAVE GOT to see 'Date Nite'.  Tina Fey in that movie totally reminds me of you, Cori."  Since I hadn't seen it yet, I was like, "cool, ok".  THEN I saw the movie.  And then I was like, "WHAT?!  HOW IN THE WORLD can you even compare me to her?!  What about her reminded you of me?"  I MUST know!  This is driving me crazy.  Cuz I certainly don't see any part of myself in the person she portrays.  Was it her sarcasm?  Her glasses and my original hair color?  Her crazy hair in that one scene? Or her ability to do all her stunts while wearing heels?

Then just the other day my neighbor throws this little tid bit at me, "We were watching the movie 'Blindside' the other day and both my daughter and I agreed that Sandra Bullock's character is so you." What does one say to that?  I don't have an appropriate response.  Apparently, I need to be working on one since this happens quite frequently.  I ended up saying, "Well...I guess that's better than being compared to Tina Fey in 'Date Nite'."  I wanted her to expound and give me the details.  But I was left to create multiple scenarios in my over-active imagination as to why she would see me as this character.  My brain hurts from over analyzing all the potential answers.

If you feel the need to tell me how much I resemble your favorite actress in your favorite movie, please make sure you're ready to spend a good hour explaining yourself and calming my heart with reassurances of your unfailing love for me despite who you think I may or may not resemble.  My self confidence will thank you later.

Eight Is Great

Eight years ago

I didn't yet know you

I had no clue 

Your eyes would be blue

I couldn't imagine 

The joy you would bring

Each time my ears

Would hear you sing

Who knew the smile 

That lights your face

Would melt me each time

And remind me of grace

I didn't yet know

Exactly how much 

You would be crazy in love 

With horses and such

Who knows their child

Before they are born

God does and he teaches us

To not be forlorn

But to trust Him and 

He will show us the way

To raise you and love you

And help you obey

You are more precious

And dear to me

Than I ever imagined 

Anything could be

You are the gift

God knew I would need

I see Him in you 

And I see you in me

Happy 8th Birthday

My Love,

Mommy

Life's A Dance

I love Chloe's philosophy on life (it also just so happens to be the same as a song by John Michael Montgomery):

Life's a dance you learn as you go

Sometimes you lead, sometimes you follow

Don't worry bout what you don't know

Life's a dance you learn as you go!

Car Talk

We were driving down a very bumpy road the other day.  I was driving and Chloe was sitting diagonal from me in the back seat.  I was wearing short sleeves.  My attire is a pivotal point to this story.

So there I am, driving along with all three kids in tow when Chloe exclaims, "Mom, the fat on your arms looks very swivelly when you drive."

I'm so astonished with this out of the blue comment that I can't help but laugh at her use of vocabulary and random observation.  "You said swivelly right?  Not jiggly?"

"Yes.  You know, the fat on your arms is swivelling around in circles as we go over the bumps on the road."

I am now laughing my head off.  I find this hilarious (and true)!  But the boys don't.

Gavin, my ever faithful defender and loyal son, declares, "CHLOE!  You can't say that to Mom.  That will make her sad!"

In jumps Bennett to the rescue, "Ya.  It will make her self-conscious.  You don't want her to feel that way, do you?"

Now Chloe is back tracking and horribly sad at the possibility of making me sad as per her brothers' admonitions.  She was just stating a very true observation, my arms were jiggling all over the place on the horribly pot-holed road.  Now she is starting to cry and re-phrase, "Mom, I wasn't trying to be mean.  I didn't mean your fat...I meant your skin... its moving back and forth alot...".

But I was more interested in the whole "self-conscious" phrase used by Bennett.  "Bennett...when did you learn that word?"

"Well...I've always known it.  I just decided this would be a good time to use it."

"Ahh, I see.  So, have you ever felt self-conscious?"

"Oh ya."

"How?  When?"

"I'm self conscious about my butt."

"Your BUTT?  How in the world can you be self conscious about your butt?!"

"It's too long."

"Long?  As in l-o-n-g?

"Yep."

I swear this is all true.  You can't make this stuff up.  I purposed in my heart to remember the entire conversation word for word (as much as a mental stretch as that is for me) since it was so incredibly bizarre.  I knew I would be going back to revisit this little unexpected episode in my day for years to come.

"Explain, please."

"Well...you see, every time I'm walking to the shower and I look in the mirror on my way in, my butt just looks so long."

No one prepares you for these types of conversations.  How is a parent supposed to convince their 10 year old son that their butt is not long but normal?  That conversation is no where in the parenting manuals.  Long gone are my swivelly arms.  We've moved on to much deeper issues.

"Honey.  You so don't have a long butt."  (Try saying that with a straight face.)  "What else are you self conscious about?"

"Well...my teeth.  They're long too." He says this with all sincerity.

"Bennett, your teeth are perfectly normal.  You just have skewed vision if you thing everything is long."  How's that for encouragement.  This conversation is going nowhere fast.  I must exit.

By now, Chloe is crying, thinking she is the worst kid ever, begging me to forgive her, asking me not to be mad.  Gavin is laughing his head off.  Bennett is being self-conscious about everything and begging me not to blog a word of this.  I'm laughing hysterically, assuring Chloe that if I was upset I would not be laughing so hard.  That assurance at least stops the tears.

We have made it to our destination and the 'car talk' is over.  Thank God.

*  I have since gained permission (albeit begrudgingly) from Bennett to broadcast this story on my blog under the auspices that he will want to remember this when he is older.

Quotes

I came across these quotes recently.  Love them.  The first one is so me and apparently also so C.S. Lewis:

There is not a cup of tea big enough

or a book long enough to suit me.

- C. S. Lewis

The second is very thought provoking:

Accountability is something that is left

when responsibility has been subtracted.

- Pasi Sahlberg

Trip Notes

The kids and I are on a road trip.  Fun times.  As we are leaving the driveway, Gavin breaks out the first book he plans on reading:  "String Theory for Dummies".  Then he decides he needs to start taking notes and whips out his trusty, dusty notepad to write down who knows what about 'string theory'.  He even has the gaul to try to incorporate me into a conversation about it.  "Mom, did you know that the string theory has 10 to the 500th power number of possible solutions?" 

First of all, I don't even know what that means, so how am I supposed to have an intelligent response.  Second of all, I'm driving, which means I really only heard every 3rd word cuz I'm really concentrating on staying on the road.  And lastly, I don't really care what string theory is.  So, this became my 'intelligent' reply, "Hmmm.  Is that a good or a bad thing, Gavin?"

According to him, it's just plain "interesting", neither good nor bad.  Whatever.  I cannot be concerning myself with such things as string theory when I am in the process of driving.  Or really ever for that matter.

Another interesting thing...the very first thing the kids do when we get into our hotel room - check the tv listings to see if they have the Food Network.  That's really all that's important.  You can be assured that we will have our fill of Food Network tonight.

And who doesn't love a hotel with an indoor/outdoor pool and a hot tub?!  The perfect way to spend the evening relaxing after a long day of driving!  And free internet and computer?!  Love it.

Lastly, the kids kept thanking me over and over, "Thank you Mom for driving so carefully and trying to get us here safely."  I'm so thankful for their thankful hearts. 

This is just one more fun adventure...I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings!

Barbarians Live Here

Bennett: "Since when did Gavin have hair under his pits?"

Daddy: "Since a couple of months ago."

Bennett:  "That is so barbaric!"

Daddy:  "You are going to as well one day."

Bennett:  "No way!  I mean...one day Gavin's a kid and the next day he's a man.  How did that happen?"

We're still asking ourselves that same question my observant son.  How do these teeny, tiny babies grow right in front of our very own eyes into walking, talking people with opinions and passions and wills of their own and arm pit hair?

Are We On Candid Camera?

I asked this question as we began unloading our grocery cart onto the conveyor belt this morning. This experience was too crazy, too unbelievable, too much to endure if it wasn't for the viewing pleasure of the rest of the world.  I want everyone to have a chance to walk in my shoes at the grocery store.

Most every week, I have the serene pleasure of gathering food for my family all by myself during a part of  the day when there may be only 5 other people frequenting my grocery store.  I specifically and intentionally have orchestrated it to be this way.  I operate best under perfect conditions.

But every once in a while, Chuck thinks it would be "fun" if we all go to the store as a family.  Where he gets this idea, I'll never know.  But I can't keep refusing him his little "fun", so every blue moon I acquiesce and gird myself up for the inevitable.  I take many, many deep breaths, determine ahead of time to hold my tongue and release no sarcastic remarks or "i told you so" looks and afix a permanent (albeit fake) smile to my face.  Often I pretend to be in a state of supreme concentration reviewing the list in my hand so I don't have to deal with the cluelessness going on around me.

The chaos begins the moment we enter the door.  All four of my entourage decide to camp in front of the doorway and argue over who should drive the cart.  I keep walking, knowing that eventually, they will follow and a cart will magically be by my side.  The moment they enter the store, they are apparently sprayed in the face with some type of "clueless gas".  This disables any and all normal thinking processes and they proceed to revert back to cavemen like behavior.

It was never this hard when they were younger.  I could plop each of them in a cart, control them with a food item (like a cookie from the bakery) and bribe them with some type of reward once we got home if they would follow me through the store and BEHAVE.  Worked like magic everytime.  Not so much anymore.  Now they wander down the isles, clueless that other people exist.  They are too busy talking about yuh-gi-oh or what super power so-and-so has.  They do not know how to walk in a straight line, talk quietly or move out of the way.  They think it's a great time to tell me a story or share their life dreams.  If I say "stay here, I'm just going to run down this isle and pick up one item" they apparently think I said, "quick, everyone, cluster around me and follow me so closely that you run over my heels with the cart as I go get this one little item that was 3 feet away from where we just were."  And that's only the kids.

Let's talk about Chuck.  If he is in control of the cart - watch out.  He is a "middle of the isle" hog.  This has to be one of my worst pet peeves - people who aimlessly walk down the center of an isle like they're the only ones there.  He also likes to read all the signs to me.  Ask me why we don't get such-and-such anymore.  Put random food items in the cart.  Joke with the kids (why would anyone do that in a grocery store - don't they know it just eggs them on!).  Ask to go on a satellite mission (you know, where I send them to pick up random items far, far away from where I am) but then come back with only 2 of the 3 things I told them to get.  And get this...when putting the food on the conveyor belt, he doesn't even group the food into like categories!  So then the lady packing my food in my bags is going to put things like bananas with a bag of sugar and everyone knows you can't do that.

We finally make it to the checkout lane and my people all just stand there, milling about, in the way of my putting my food on the belt.  There are some really important things to talk about as soon as you get to the checkout line apparently.  I'm on the verge of loosing my plastic smile.  I'm starting to hyperventilate.  I can see the end in sight and I'm ever so anxious for this charade to be over.  I used to look at other mothers and think "when my kids are that age, they are going to be so much better behaved in the store".  I got my payback.  I NEVER think that about anyone or anything at anytime anymore.  I have learned my lesson.  I promise.

Now I know what my Mom meant when she used to say, "You were so much better behaved when you were two than you are now (teens)."  YES! YES!  I want to scream.  "I FINALLY KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN!"  You can control little, bitty people - you can pick them up, move them, shove a cookie in their mouth, or just pass off their behavior as "oh they're in the terrible two's".  But what excuse do you have when their the age of my kids?  None.  Nada.  Zilch.  It just is what it is.

Amazingly, we have food for the week.  I don't know how I was able to stay on task under such duress.  It just goes to show the fortitude that comes with motherhood.  Sometimes we're asked to do the impossible...like a family trip to the grocery store....and we come out on the other side better for it.

Boundaries

I kid you not, a couple of weeks ago, we got this little memo from the kids' school:

Please have your children bring their snowgear and boots to

school everyday even if it's not snowing.  They still go outside 

for recess until it reaches zero degrees.

My only thought was...I'm glad they have boundaries!  I'm glad they drew that line in the snow at zero degrees.  Because  -1 is definitely alot colder than 1. When it's 1 degree out, I know my children will be safe and snug in their warm snowgear out on the playground.  That puts a mother's heart at ease.

My goodness, these Minnesotans are some hardy people!

Dispensing Medicine

You know you feel bad when you can't wait to take Nyquil, knowing relief is only moments away.  It's sad when your children don't share your same excitement.

Chuck and I just spent the past several days drowning in our beloved bottle of Nyquil.  No amount of homeopathic stuff or vitamins eased the stuffiness, aches, pains or fever like the lovely green liquid.  Desperate situations call for desperate measures.  Taking a tablespoon of the nasty, green stuff was equivalent to me walking into a wall and passing out.  It meant a few hours of precious sleep that previously eluded me because I couldn't breathe.

Unfortunately, all those in our house who have succumb to this nasty virus don't agree with my take on the amazing, medicinal qualities of Nyquil.  As I was coercing Gavin to "get his butt in the kitchen to take his medicine NOW", he responds with, "I could resist you, you know.  I know tae-kwon-do. I could knock all of y'all down."

For whatever reason that just gave me a fit of giggles.  Not good when you're holding a tablespoon of sticky, green, medicinal liquid meant for the "sick" son who is taller than you.  My laughing fit apparently only encouraged him to commence laughing and coughing and laughing.  An endless cycle.  Then every time he got close enough to my spoon (that I was so deftly holding over the sink and level with his mouth), I started in with another case of the giggles.  We were a hopeless pair.

To make matters worse, he thinks that if he holds his nose while inhaling the liquid, it won't taste so bad.  So he uses the hand closest to me to plug his nose.  That wouldn't be so bad if his elbow weren't a milimeter from my face as he's inching his face closer to my hand.  I'm either going to get hit in the face with his elbow or dump the entire contents of the spoon in the sink from my incessant giggling.  Chuck couldn't stand the little charade any longer and stepped in to save the day.   My hero.  He forced the medicine upon our eldest offspring.  It was now out of my hands, literally.

I love how Gavin could resist - but he didn't.  That's my boy!

Come to think of it, why didn't I just let Gavin dispense the medicine to himself?  It's hard, sometimes, to remember he's not 5 anymore and doesn't need me quite so much.  If he was to self medicate then we could avoid the whole shaky spoon syndrome.  It's not like the Mom is really helping the situation here.