I'm up late and praying hard for some guidance in making the right decisions for my sweet kids. Any prayers you may want to give up certainly can't hurt, either. (Why is this not just easy all the time?!)

Fifteen of sixteen consecutive work days complete...and the struggle is real.

If I had just one more evening to live, I'd opt to get dinner out with my husband and beautiful children and then referee the most intense game of dodgeball this house has ever seen; basically, I'd just wish to relive tonight. 

"My friends and I are going to start a band, Mom. We're going to call ourselves  'The Eagles' and we're going to be so awesome because nobody has ever thought to name their band that before." -Patrick Walden

One-Liners

My days aren't long enough. Sometimes, there aren't enough in a week. Sometimes (like this week), there are too many. And yet, I barely find myself at a place where I can sit quietly and write down how things are going. For that, I am sorry. Sorry for anyone who reads this and sorry to my future self for letting good memories slip by without proper documentation, perhaps to be lost in the vast abyss where memories go. Sigh. Dramatics, all because I can't seem to focus my thoughts. 

But there is an upside to this. Because I can't find one large block of time terribly often, I know for sure I can find several small blocks. I know I can. And that means that I'm going to try something new, something to keep the juices flowing. 

One line a day. Just one. A memory, a quote, something to jot down and remember later, something to remind me to take a few more minutes from time to time and elaborate. Perhaps something quick for you to read, if you are into that sort of thing. 

And your line for today?

Let's start tomorrow. 

P.S.- Happy New Year!

Ciao!

Christmas, Christmas Time Is Near

It's so close! It's that time of year again! The eggnog is made. Decorations have been up for at least a month. I'm happily relishing in all things balsam or fir...and I'm just so happy. Honestly. My cup overflows. 

Today, the cleaning lady came, so the kids and I were banished to the basement. (Sidenote: she and her family brought us homemade rock candy. As if cleaning my house for me while I half-snooze in the basement wasn't enough. She's wonderful.) I digress. Annie was tired and, for the first time in forever, let me rock her. Her eyes fluttered before she fell asleep in my arms, her little hand reached up and touched my face. And, as if she knew I was watching her, she broke out into the biggest smile I have ever seen her make, scrunchy nose and all. She's happy, too. 

Leo crawled into my lap today, too, and wrapped his long body around mine and fell asleep. Hatchie stroked my hair and told me I was the betht mom effer. And Patrick, at choir practice, smiled and gave me the thumbs up as he nodded his head toward the door, motioning for me to leave the church and not embarrass him by staying and watching. (His confidence amazes me every single day.)

I don't know how I got so lucky, what kind of deal I had to make, to get this family. This life. Our life. I'm more tired than I can possibly begin to tell you (overworked, just like everyone else), but I'm blissfully aware of how truly fortunate I am. These kids, they have given me everything. 

I'm taking it all in. This past year, the holiday to come, these incredible people I get to call my family.

Christmas Cheer has got me good. 

What shall we give the children?
Christmas is almost here.
Toys and games and playthings,
as we do every year?

Yes, for the magic of Toyland
is part of the yuletide lore
to gladden the heart of childhood,
But I shall give something more,
a more sympathetic ear,
a little more time for laughter,
or tenderly dry a tear...

I shall take time to teach them
the joy of doing some task.
I'll try to find some time to answer
more of the questions they ask.
And take long walks in the sun.

Time for a bedtime story,
after the day is done.
I shall give these to my children,
weaving a closer tie,
knitting our lives together
with gifts that money can't buy.

 

*  *  *

It's Tuesday night and Adam is out of town. The kids were craaaaaazzzzy tonight, so they ate, bathed, read books, and went to bed. This left a lot of free time for me. So I knitted a little, drank myself some cinnamon tea, decorated gift tags with my new dipped pen, caught up on The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, did not drink a drop of wine (because I had my share this weekend...and I still need some distance), and now I'm soaking in a giant, boiling hot bathtub. This should be amazing.

But. I'm. Just. So. Bored. 

Ugh. Boredom. It's the devil's playground. I miss Adam. 

So, let's talk about good things. 

1.) My Christmas shopping is done! I bought Adam's final gift tonight. From Amazon. For which he receives the shipping receipts. $&@?!  Regardless, he'll still have to open it on Christmas morning and put on a good show for the kids. Problem solved. 

2.) Patrick is singing in the choir at Mass on Christmas Eve this year. 100% his decision, which makes it even more special. He refuses to sing in front of either me or Adam, but I got a note home from his music teacher that he sang solo in front of his entire class this week. Amazing! Every single request for a repeat performance for us has been adamantly denied. :-/

3.) Annie is walking! And talking (hi, yes, Mama, Dad, done). She's finally getting some hair...slowly, but it's growing in thick and dark (like her mama! Finally!) She's precious. A little doll. And so tiny, I can barely resist the urge to pick her up and squeeze her, though she's just about had her fill of that nonsense. 

4.) Hatchie is terrible. The worst. (Ok, no, that's not true. He's wonderful...wonderfully bad. Like the mischievous little elves scattering every Facebook and Instagram feed. Just like that. But chubby and squeezable and cute.) 

5.) And Leo. Sweet Leo. We moved him from one school to another a few months ago, which seemed dramatic at the time, but was THE BEST move we could have made for our little guy. Suddenly, he's learning all sorts of things, gaining all sorts of confidence, and his tears, the super-sensitive breakdowns, are almost a thing of the past. Finally...FINALLY, I feel as though he may be ready for Kindergarten in the fall. (Sidenote: the old school is not releasing to me his preschool photos. For which I paid. Certainly, that's not acceptable, right? I didn't think so, either.)

6.) And me. I'm restless. Can you tell? I need a solid blanket of snow, the new year, an adjustment in attitude, and Adam to come home and stay a while. A healthy dose of Christmas cheer. A makeover. Or, I just need to go to sleep a little earlier tonight and pull myself together in the morning. And to get out of this tub because I am sweating bullets and I'm certain there is a good Lifetime movie starting in 20 minutes. (Maybe these solo nights aren't actually the worst.)

Happy December to you!

❤️

It's Our Anniversary

Today, we've been married eight years. Eight. And, though it hasn't been all unicorns and puppy noses, it's been so worth it. Together, we just make sense, even when I wish we wouldn't (which I've done. Really.)

If I was equipped on that altar eight years ago with the knowledge of what our life would be now, here is what I would vow:

I vow to be the person who makes your home a happy place.

I vow to speak well of you to our children so that they know that we're a united force.

I vow to trust you in all things.

I vow to try to not always need the final word. (I said try.)

I vow to love you when I don't feel like it.

I vow to love you when you don't feel like it.

I vow to keep laughing with you.

I vow to shut the bathroom door.

I vow to keep the "for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health."

I vow to keep your pants off the floor and off the living room furniture, even though I hate picking them up. 

I vow to not touch your electronics.

Or the lawn mower.

I vow to grow old together with a sense of humor about our changing appearances.

I vow to always love your chest hair.

I vow to cut you a break when I know you need it. 

I vow to help lighten your load at home and at work.

I vow to proofread all of your work emails and correct your wording and punctuation.

I vow to keep working on us always because there is not another life parter on this planet who can make me feel the way you do. 

To my kids and to my husband, thank you for being my entire world. In this home and with you is my favorite place to be. Always.

Life has been good to us.

Dear Kids:

The One About Adam

Adam has been home with our family for ten days in a row. Ten days. And, maybe that doesn't seem like a lot, but if you are married to a Road Warrior like I am, perhaps you can understand the sense of calm and entirety and family-ness that has settled over this house. It's, more than anything, reassuring.

I made the resolution this year to make it all about Adam. To watch my words and actions and to go out of my way to show him how much I appreciate him (which I do, enormously.) It lasted about six months.  As his business trips started to pile up and our phone conversations grew shorter and shorter while our independent task lists grew longer and longer, and our time together was an hour this week maybe an hour next, I couldn't help but to get angry. Resentful. To feel sorry for myself. I still feel that way sometimes. And, as completely ungrateful and spoiled as that makes me sound, it's life. Just how it is. 

This year was a hard one. (I'd use stronger language than that if it wouldn't offend). The hardest yet, I would argue, but I remember the same feeling settling in last Fall, as Adam started to show his face more (by no fault of his own.) The sense of relief having a second person around sometimes still brings tears to my eyes. It's hard being a single parent to four little kids. They're fantastic kids, but it's still really, really hard. One person to discipline, to kiss boo-boos, to bathe, get dressed, get them out of the house on time. One person to make appointments, keep deadlines, volunteer at school parties, sign permission slips. One person to do homework, read books, make dinner and clean up. One person tucking in, soothing nightmares, doing laundry, picking up toys, and starting all over again in the morning. Every day. And it's terribly lonely. I think that's the worst part--the loneliness. I give people credit who do it more than I do. Seriously, I'm not that strong. 

My mother and sister, "my people," I call them, are awesome at knowing when I'm hours away from breaking and, without fail, would rush in to help without asking. And, reluctantly, I'd let them because I needed, needed, needed them. True and ugly detail: I'd usually cry in the car at some point while running errands because I would feel so guilty about leaving the kids. Because, as crazy as I would feel sometimes, they're quite literally the best part of every day, and it felt terrible needing to part from them for an hour. Like an addict, I tell you. I mean, really.

One particular trip, one when my Mom came to watch the kids so that I could pick up supplies for A's birthday, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I had bought kohl eyeliner and dyed my hair red. I looked like a 30-something who was going through something, which, to be truthful, I was. It made me feel super-shitty. Like I was barely making it, which wasn't true at all. At least, now I can see it because I'm not in the middle of losing my sh*t. I rocked it out this summer. As hard as it was and as lonely as I got, I rocked that sh*t out. No shame, I tell you. (Also, my hair is dark again. We can all breathe a sigh of relief.)

And Adam, the work-until-you-can't-and-then-work-a-little-more type, well, I'm lucky I married him. Given the alternative, someone who can't really find the drive to work, it could be much worse. It always could. But Adam is great...er, the greatest. He is. He always wears cologne, has the best body temperature and the best laugh, and is a terrible gift-giver (it's actually really cute). He even tolerates my need for late-night horror movies and daytime reality TV. I should be nicer to him. And, with our anniversary approaching, I'm trying to find ways to be super-nice to him. After all, his months spent tirelessly traveling aren't really a walk in the park for him. I give him a hard time and I shouldn't. Sigh. I could use a little understanding here.

We're lucky we have each other. And the kids. We're a good family. We're winging it about 85% of the time and are always under-prepared, but the one great gift our kooky schedules give us is the endless appreciation of our time spent together. We're super-close. Figuratively and literally. (The best thing we've ever been called is "Mrs. Walden and her little ducklings." Wherever I go, the kids swarm right around my legs like a skirt. They don't stray far.)  And, right now, Adam and I are curled up on the couches, waiting to get our scary-show fix. Gotta jet. American Horror Story. Even sometimes-scared Adam is hooked.

We're together. So, we're good. Life goes on.

Later, gators.

The One About Hatch.

It's funny, actually, that the three times I have sat down to write words about our third son, our new three-year-old, the most gregarious and word-worthy, I have so few to write. You'd think this post would go on for days, but I just can't find the right words to accurately describe our boy or the ways he enriches our lives.

The words aren't doing him justice. But I will try.

There was something about him when he was born, just like there has been for all of the kids. There was the sudden awareness of a new person, a personality bigger than we were. He was beautiful. The smallest of all of the kids, and the fiercest, most intense (and longest) delivery. All of which came to be very telling, now that we know him well. 

Hatch is small. Tiny, in fact. But he opens his mouth and everyone stops to listen. He's got the vocabulary of a four year old, the voice of a two year old. He's probably as quick-witted as they come with the memory of an elephant and the sting of a bee. When I watch him, I get the feeling he is everything I'm not and I find myself in awe of how his brain works. 

Hatch doesn't give a s$&@ what you think about him, his confident oozes from every single pore. He does what he wants, unapologetically, and may or may not ask for forgiveness later (usually not, let's be honest.)  He pulls pranks all day long, disrupting every second of calm just because he can. He's not fussy, not a cry-er. Never has been. I can count on one hand the number of times that kid fussed at all as an infant.)  He's a do-er, a determined little boy who doesn't care at all that he's smaller than everyone else. He cares that he's more capable, and works all day to prove it. He uses his love as leverage, knows not a single obstacle, and craves a good challenge. He's our guard dog, ready to speak up if he feels wronged or threatened. Try to insult him (his brothers do constantly), and he couldn't care less. He knows. He just knows he's great the way he is. He's such an amazing kid, a blessing in every sense of the word, an integral part of our family puzzle. He's admired and adored. And he's three.

We love him fiercely. Because that's the kind of loving Hatchie understands. 

And, because what I have to say about him isn't enough, I give you his theme song. By Weezer. (No, I'm serious. If you take the time to listen to the song, you'll get it.) 

I love him. We all do. In a million ways, for a million reasons, few days pass by without me thanking God for this incredible kid. We needed him. Still do. 

I pray that God continue to bless William Hatcher Walden, though I have a feeling there is a good plan in place for him. I have an even stronger feeling he knows that, too.

Imma do the things that I want to do.

I ain't got a thing to prove to you.

I'll eat my candy with the pork and beans.

Excuse my manners if I make a scene.

I ain't gonna wear the clothes that you like, 

I'm fine and dandy with the me inside.

One look in the mirror and I'm tickled pink,

I don't give a hoot about what you think. 

-Pork and Beans (Weezer, 2008).