Identity

WARNING:  THIS BLOG POST WAXES PHILOSOPHICAL WITH LITTLE SARCASM.  I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO ME.  I PROMISE I WILL RETURN WITH POOP STORIES AND CUTE WESLEY PICTURES SOON!

Sometimes, I stew about things for awhile and then I decide to write about them.  A little background information:  one morning a week I attend a great group that ministers to mostly stay-at-home moms with young children.  It has always been a group that I enjoyed, a lot of times simply because it gets me thinking.  (Which is good for me, albeit a bit dangerous).  The second thing going on this week:  one of my mom's good friends lost her 17-year old son in a car accident.  Tragedy always gets one thinking, eh?  Anyway, in our group a question something like this was posed:  How did you identify yourself before you were a mom? 

And sadly, my mind drew a complete blank.  Probably somewhat because having four children has done a number on my brain cells, but I think it goes deeper than that.  I started thinking big:  "Who am I without my family?"  I mean, obviously, I am a gifted writer (tongue-in-cheek people, tongue-in-cheek) but I use those talents to write about my four wonderful children and our everyday adventures.  What did I like to do before I had kids?  Going even farther back, what did I do before I met Matt?  Think about it, if you dare.  It's hard.  Which leads my heart to break even more for a mom who has recently lost her child, or anyone who has lost a child ever. 

Identity is a big thing.  It's important.  And I'm in a constant struggle to find mine.  Here's the thing:  I love my life.  I love my kids.  I love my husband.  I love my friends.  But do you ever wonder who you are when those things are taken away from you?  But, then something clicked for me (also wisdom from this group people, you should come!).  Here is who I am:  Unique.  Loved.  Forgiven.  Royal.  Eternal.  And totally and completely out of my comfort zone when writing about my faith.  But there it is.

A Successful Summer

Yep, I haven't posted since May.  That is just sad.  Sad and a little pathetic, given we had an AWESOME summer!  I am going to have to tell some retrospective stories when I have some more time.  We decided to hire a nanny in the home and she was so great.  We were truly blessed to have her for a summer (and hopefully a couple of future summers).  We tag-teamed the kids this summer, allowing me to attend a lot of sports, swimming lessons or work from home while she held down the fort.  It was great.
A successful summer made way into a successful start of the school year.  This morning I officially have all four kids in school.  Ben is in 2nd grade and Maddie is starting kindergarten, and although they have been back in school since mid-August because of this crazy heat, today is only their 3rd full day of school (in a four day week, followed by a four day week next week...once they actually start going full weeks it should be interesting to see how they hang in there).  Zach is in PK, so he goes every day from 9-130.  So far he does great, but holy cow, is he a bear as soon as I pick him up.  I have forgiven him on the account of the fact I am making him go to school every day at four, so I should probably expect some moodiness.  I also found a preschool that (thank God!) takes two year olds here in Cedar Falls.  It probably shouldn't be called preschool and should be called "Please, if I pay you $100 a month will you potty train my kid" School.  I bet they would have a huge waiting list.  Anyway, I dropped him off today and after pointing out "That boy is crying" quite loudly and marching in proudly, I (gasp!) had three hours of blissful silence.  So, I do a little work and now, do a little blogging. 
A few interesting stories:  Wesley has (like all my other kids) developed a freakishly strong sense of smell.  I'm not sure what it is with my kids and smell.  For instance, Ben can tell you everything you have eaten in the last 8 hours when you tell him goodnight (gross I know and a good incentive for midday brushing), Zach put on a shirt that had been handed down from our neighbor and proclaimed "Mom, this shirt smells like the Arends" (not smells different, not smells funny - no, he can pinpoint exactly who it smells like).  Wes, however, smelled me the other day (after a workout mind you) and told me first when smelling one arm "You smell like cookies" (this was probably an overstatment) and then, when smelling the other arm "Nope, you smell like Chuck E. Cheese".  When you figure that the tunnels the kid plays in at Chuck E. Cheese probably have accumulated years of sweat, diaper smell and other unmentionables that come with toddler life coupled with what I can only assume are questionable sanitary routines, the kid probably nailed exactly what I smelled like after a 45 minute run in 85 degree heat.  Well played, Wes, well played.
One more quick story, then I have to actually go pick up one of my kids...I was picking up Zach the other day and we were in the car and he asked me "Mom, do you see that girl coming out the door with the colored star shirt?".  I said I did, and he said with a big sigh "I am almost in love with her."  I'm going to go ahead and admit it - I stinking love preschoolers.  Four is such a fun, awesome age.  Until Zach comes home and has is usual tantrum about how he isn't tired and he isn't going to rest quietly.  Then I remember that 5 and 7 are pretty good ages too:) 
Okay, with more free time on my hands, look forward to more blog posts!  I know you do!

The Chronology of Wes Eating a Cupcake

So, I bought some delicious Scratch cupcakes for my wonderful friend Ang in KC who had just had a baby.  When we went to pick them up, I had to get Zach and Wes a cupcake - I mean how can you take a 2 year old and a 4 year old to a bakery and then say "Oh no kids, these are only for mom and her friend to enjoy - not you - you can smell, but that's it".  I can be mean, but I'm not that mean.  Anyway, Wes cracks me up in a lot of ways, and one of those ways is how he eats a cupcake.  Watch and learn:

 So, you start by taking a bite - this is an exploratory bite when you realize that there is some sort of cakey object getting in the way of the good stuff (aka frosting)














You look at me like, holy cow, is this for real?  I get to eat all of this.  Challenge accepted!

 You realize the only true way to eat this cupcake is to stick to the top only - none of that cake nonsense.

 You begin to feel the effects of so much sugar.  It is so good, but it is starting to make you a little woozy. 

 Challenge completed!  Wait - the challenge was to extract all of the frosting, right?















Happy.  Life is good. 

I Don't Like Kids That Much

So, I don't have too many crazy new stories about our family and our comings and goings.  We suffered through a miserable spring with the rest of you and are looking forward to some nice weather - finally!  In the midst of our miserable spring and being cooped up with four kids a whole lot more than what my tolerance level is set for has helped me come to a realization that I have probably hinted at before, but I'm not sure if I have ever come right out and said it:  I don't like kids that much.  Don't get me wrong, I LOVE kids - especially my kids.  But as people to hang out with and as the main make-up of your social circle, kids aren't that great.  They fight a lot, you have to do whatever THEY want to do (when do we get to do what I want to do?), you are constantly cleaning up their messes, you are constantly cleaning them up, they are smelly, they are whiny and a lot of times, they are pretty stinking rude.  But then I also came to the following realization: when kids hit the age of about four or five - they like to get you stuff.  It is awesome!  We have a refrigerator in the basement that has my coveted stock of Diet Pepsi.  Guess who likes to go get it for me?  My kids do.  Wesley has this awful habit of still pooping in his diaper (someone should really potty train that kid!) and guess who likes to race upstairs and get me a diaper?  My kids do!  I mean - if this holds, I may never have to walk down my basement stairs again!  If only I could figure out a clever way to apply this knowledge to their toys and clothes - for some reason, the magic only happens when it is something that doesn't belong to them.  Hmmm, races to clean up each others room...might be a million dollar idea! 

Things Wesley Thinks Are Hilarious...

I was recently writing a friend about how Wesley drives me up a stinking wall and giving her a list of things that he finds simply hilarious which may or may not end my streak with sanity in the next three to six months.  As I was writing, I thought, hmmmm...this might make a decent blog topic.  So, for your enjoyment (or pity, or sympathy, or empathy, or simply as a way to remember the good ol' days with your little ones) here it goes....

 

THINGS THAT WESLEY FINDS ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS....

Getting up from his nap after only laying down for 45 minutes while I'm trying to write a blog entry (I didn't plan this one - it's just funny how his timing works).  Grabbing steak knives that would be seemingly unreachable to anyone but an adult and deciding to chop his own strawberries.  Brandishing said steak knive as a weapon when an adult approaches him to remove said steak knife.  Opening up the dishwasher and using it as a step to reach something that has been placed out of his reach on purpose on the counter.  Using my iPhone as a dodge ball.  Running in front of moving cars in a Fareway parking lot - probably hoping some DHS worker is looking on in sheer unbelief.  Deciding to give his parents a heart attack by acting like he is going to jump into a 5 foot pool - the kid is a good actor, but since he still possesses the hand-eye coordination of a 2 year old, this will eventually not end well.  Asking for chocolate milk in a "big boy cup", impressing me with his verbal skills in putting this request together, and then reminding me why I don't give him a big boy cup as he takes one drink and then dumps the rest on the floor.  Dumping out every bucket of toys that his big brothers and sister have actually worked hard together on cleaning up - I do kind of appreciate this one - welcome to my world kids, welcome to my world.  Wandering in to the neighbor's garage to find some tools to then come and "work" on mom's new car (don't worry Matt, I did manage to stop him before any damage was done).  Opening the front door while wearing only a diaper and running after the kids who are getting on the bus (did I mention in 10 degree weather...there haven't been any news reports about me...yet).  Opening the garage door while wearing only a diaper and running after the kids who are getting on the bus (after I lock the front door).  Don't judge me people, mornings are chaotic around here.  Getting a toothbrush and wetting it in the toilet since he can't reach the sink (he kind of deserves this one).  Getting toothpaste and not putting it on his toothbrush, but instead putting it on anything else he can find before I bust him.  Most of this list relates to things the kid has done in the last 48 hours.  My brain is so fried when it comes to him, that I can't think back much further than that.  Don't get me wrong, I am pretty sure that when he is a teenager I will be able to write a similarily titled list that will leaving me longing for the days of toilet toothbrushing and iPhone keepaway, but as it sits right now, this kid is a challenge!  He is lucky he is so stinking cute...

"I'm a Grill" and other quirks

So, I know it has been a while since I posted, but getting through the holidays (without any hospital stays) and back into a normal routine has kept me fairly busy.  Plus, my kids are being mostly normal and without their quirkiness, I don't have much to write about.  I mean, who really wants to read about how exceptionally gifted my kids are, how cute they are, how well behaved they are and how basically...I've got it all together (besides me?). 

This morning provided me the fodder I needed to get my creative juices going.  It (perhaps) all started when we moved Zachary into a room with Maddie.  Ben has been begging for his own room and Maddie has been begging for a roommate, and poor Zach is just a pawn we move around to make our other kids happy, so lo and behold, he ended up with Maddie.  Well, more and more he has been dressing up in her clothes (see picture below).  This morning he came down in a complete Maddie outfit (and by complete I mean complete with her socks and her teeny tiny panties) telling me "I'm a grill, mom, I'm a grill!".  Before I can go on, I should mention that Zach can't pronounce "girl" and after my every effort to change this speaking pattern in him, I've pretty much given up.  So, he wasn't referring to himself as a grill so much, as a "girl".  Which in the moment I instantly split my mind 50/50 into "isn't that cute" and "I'll love my child no matter what".  It got a little worse when I insisted that he had to change his clothes when we went out in public and could wear whatever he wanted when we got home and he is crying (real tears), telling me "but mom, I'm a grill...I'm a grill".  However, by the time we got home he was insisting he was Rich (an Imagination Mover), so we will chalk this one up to what is surely indicative of an amazing imagination that will probably come up with a cure for cancer in the near future.

I also sometimes fear for a life of OCD for Wesley.  Does anyone else ever wonder if their neuroses sometimes rub off a little bit on their kids?  For instance, Matt is totally OCD about shutting off lights (to his defense, probably about as OCD as I am about leaving them on).  But I can be in a room putting away laundry and all of a sudden the room goes dark.  It's not that we didn't pay the utilities, Matt just needs to have the lights off and forgets that sometimes light is imperative to completing a task.  Well, Wesley is already this way about shutting doors.  The kid can't go by a door without shutting it.  Preschool door, any store door (which proves difficult when they are automatic), random person's car door...you name it, the kid throws a fit if he can't shut it.  Maddie is also a little OCD about cold lunch.  (And honest to God I'm not exaggerating this part).  I let them take cold lunch once a week.  It starts on Sunday when Maddie wants to know what is on the menu so she can decide her cold lunch day (so far, so good).  Once the day is decided (and God help me if it is later in the week) she mentions no less than 10 times a day which day she is taking cold lunch, what she will have in it and wants to know when I am going to pack it.  I tend to pack it the night before and she will continue to come downstairs to see if I have it packed before she can fall asleep and the first thing she will say when I wake her up in the morning (seriously - I have woken her up out of a dead sleep and these are the first words out of her mouth) "You need to put ice in my water bottle for my cold lunch".  Often followed up with, "I dreamed about my cold lunch last night".  You'd think the kid was getting caviar and gold dusted creme brule in her cold lunch, but typically it is a salami sandwich (cut into heart shapes, mind you), a gogurt and a string cheese. 

Just a side note on Wesley before I sign off:  I'm pretty sure he will supply me with plenty of funny stories in the years to come.  Two quick previews:  all the kids were sitting down to breakfast one morning and I went up to get his clothes picked out.  He was yelling at me from downstairs and I figured he probably needed a refill on his chocolate donettes.  Instead, he was sitting cross legged on his high chair tray and looking like the cat that just ate the canary.  (See the pic below - not quite the same situation but it will give you a good idea).  This is equal parts a "holy cow thank God he didn't get hurt" parenting moment for me as well as a huge vouch for the safety design of the Graco high chair.  Or, take for instance how nicely Zach and Wes were playing in the basement together while I got lunch ready today.  I started to think we might finally be over the hump of constant hovering supervision with our kids (so as they don't harm themselves or others) until I went down there to let them know lunch was ready and Wes was inside the entertainment center, his head sticking out the far side playing with the power strip that we thought we so cleverly hid.  Awesome. 

A Letter to My Mom

A Letter to My Mom.

Most of you probably know that we are quickly approaching the first birthday we will celebrate for my mom – without her.  I wanted to take this opportunity to publicly thank her for being my mom.  If I had been granted the gift of foresight, I would have done this last year, but alas, I am burdened like the rest of us with living life from moment to moment.  So, if I could have, here is what I would have written:

Dear Mom,

I probably don’t thank you often enough for being my mom.  In fact, I’m not sure if I have ever thanked you.  I probably should.  As far as mom’s go, you are pretty top-shelf.  Sure, you get a little annoying and are super messy (by the way – Matt found the coffee stain on the mattress that we tried to hide) but at the end of the day you are pretty darn great.  I thought you might like to read just a few of the reasons:

1.       You married Dad.  Sure, he is a little rough around the edges, but the two of you together made some pretty great kids and in turn, we made some pretty great kids and at the end of the day – we have a pretty awesome family.  That all started with you guys.  Thank you.

2.       You let us laugh at (and usually with) you.  I’m not going to sugar coat this – you are pretty easy to make fun of.  You just make it so stinking easy.  And, to top it off, you laugh along with us.  Thank you for teaching me that self-depreciating humor is okay.  I not only inherited this wit from someone along the way, I also learned that laughing is maybe the best way to deal with any situation.  Crying doesn’t do us much good – thank you for teaching me to always look for the best in any situation and when you can’t find a “best” there is probably something to make fun of that will get you laughing anyway. 

3.       Thank you for always making sure I looked normal.  I know our family didn’t have a lot growing up.  I’m not complaining – I am very thankful for our middle-classedness.  But I know that with dad owning a small business and with you working at a factory, Girbaud jeans were probably not always in the budget.  But I always had them.  And I always had the “right” kind of shoes.  In your wisdom (not vanity, wisdom), you knew the value of us having the clothes that made us fit in.  God help us if I had to do that based solely on my personality.

4.       Thank you for always answering the phone “mm-yello”.  That is hard to type, but I hear it perfectly in my head.  I admit:  we often called you just to hear that and get a good laugh and then hung up.  Again, laughing with you….

5.       Thank you for teaching me that relationships with people are what matters.  You were a great friend to your friends, a great sister/daughter/etc. to your family and a great mom to us.  I admire that about you and try to model it. 

6.       Thank you for loving food as much as I do.  Only in our family can we make you a taco dip birthday cake and everyone accepts it as perfectly awesome.  Whenever we order Casey’s pizza, I still want to eat a bag of Doritos with it, because that is how we roll in the Stolz family.

7.       Thank you for teaching me that you are never too old to figure out your role in the world and in turn, realize your dreams.  When I think about what a stressful situation you must have been in when Sara Lee closed, it makes me appreciate the type of person you are even more.  I am only 33 and I can’t imagine starting over right now.  But you did.  And you did it by kicking ass and taking names.  You worked hard and deserved every A you got.  You had to partner with people younger than me and work together to create projects.  You became friends with those same people that were more than half your age and they are better for it.  Then you graduated and had to go on job interviews.  And then you got a job.  And because of that job you changed lives.  Of students, of teachers, of coworkers, of administrators.  Amazing.

8.       Thank you for being an amazing grandma.  Thank you for walking with me and pushing strollers and just talking about life.  Thank you for knowing when you were starting to annoy me by talking too much and just walking quietly.  Thank you for always being willing to listen to a monitor so that Matt and I could have some valuable alone time. 

9.       Thank you for being a funny sleeper.  Matt and I continue to (and will probably always) tell the story of when you proclaimed “I EAT MEAT” in a very beastly voice when we shared a hotel room. 

10.   Thank you for being you.  I could go on forever about what makes you so special and why I am so grateful for the fact that you are my mom, but in the end, I just want you to know that I am just that – grateful.  Obviously, Maddie will be just as lucky to have a mom just like you, because I learned everything I know about being a good mom from you.  Well, maybe not everything.  There are some notes I took that I think I could put in the “Don’t Do This” category.  But that is a whole other letter.  Maybe for next year’s birthday…