We should never grow out of our silliness.

I've caught myself taking life too seriously on and off through my life. I always feel guilty the moment I realize how ridiculous I'm being. This night, my son was pretending to be a super strong wrestler...obviously ready for his pee-wee wrestling season to start. And my daughter, the ultimate copy-cat, was not very far behind. (I'm just hoping she grows out of wanting to wrestle!)

As they hollered about being tough and grunted and stomped around the living room for awhile, my husband caught their toughness on camera. Good thing it's difficult to stay too serious in this house for very long. Let's hope we're still laughing and being silly another thirty years from now.

Their love shines just as bright as ours.

I'm not sure what's gotten into me this week but Monday will be the third time I've visited my son's kindergarten class in seven days. I never know what to expect. The first visit was to listen to an author speak about a children's book she wrote. A book I've been wanting to buy and now want it even more.

The kids were fidgety the entire hour; I almost couldn't stand it. The teachers were obviously used to it. And while I went into the event believing my son would be embarrassed to have me there even though he begged me to go, he sat there, draped all across my lap through most of it. Held my hand the other part. I didn't mind at all. It was sweet and I wanted to squeeze him back but refrained until I said goodbye.

Today, I went to lunch with his class. Again, he had begged me to go and acted excited and nervous the whole time. He kept peeking around at the other kids to see how they would react and yet, you could tell he was on cloud 9. I think I smiled for that entire 30 minutes. I was so proud of my son. He's growing so quickly and is learning so much. He amazes me. But after we dumped our trays, he went and re-joined his friends and yelled out "Bye mom!" I turned, knelt down and asked for a hug. Keep in mind there were 13 kindergarten kids staring at us and a handful of other children and adults watching. He leaned the opposite direction. So I took the opportunity and squeezed him as hard as I could and as I planted a big kiss on the top of his head, I said, "Awe, are you embarrassed to hug your mom in front of your friends?" They all roared with laughter...it was pretty incredible.

I could see and feel his love today. There is absolutely nothing like it in the world. And I just hope that he could see and feel how much I love him. What a terrific memory...can't wait to do it again Monday!

Liar, liar...

I've busted my son lying to me a few times now. He tells me his room is tidy and I walk in to find the floor still covered in little cars and clothes. I ask a simple question and get some strange, obviously made up story in return. I've tried explaining right from wrong; used poor Santa Claus as a scare tactic; threatened to take away toys...all with no real sign of remorse or a single ounce of care.

But last night, he went too far. Or maybe it was just the first time his father witnessed a lie. Either way, it went from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. All he had to do was eat a dinner roll. He had asked for it. Wanted butter on it. And then he tried saying that it was his sisters or some crazy thing. The next thing I know, his father is yelling and and carrying on...Caden's bawling and Cali just looks thoroughly confused.

I tried to step in an speak calmly. Try to negotiate a solution. I though I got through to Caden but received death stares from his father. Two minutes later, he was lying to me. Only I didn't know it. Instead, I took pity on him and felt his father went too far. I asked him to go apologize and maybe dad would change his mind about his punishment. He walked away only to return two minutes later to apologize to me for lying. His dad knew all along that I was lied to.

Now my blood was boiling and I was trying so hard to keep my emotions in check...following a bath, I sent him to bed. Sobbing, shuttering with sadness. My heart hurt for hurting him (although today I realize it didn't really phase him). I thought about it as I went to sleep that night. Considered going in and laying with him in an attempt to reassure him that I love him and that I'm not mad, even though I was.

My lesson here was more for me. I truly believed that we were hard on Caden by making him go to bed early. I believed that his sobs were true torture. But reality is that he was tired. He was trying to play us. And I have a feeling his days of lying are not over.

So now I'm rethinking my strategy and wondering if we were in fact, too soft.

Maybe none of us are as comfortable in our own skin as we seem.

My son is officially a member of a kindergarten class. And no, I didn't cry. My lack of tears did shock me but what was even more interesting this past week was watching his reaction to the whole thing.

The first day of school, there he was in his little uniform, looking very much like everyone else (only cuter). He hopped out of the car and I walked with him considering the load of school supplies we were asked to provide...watercolor paint of all things...anyway, the kids were lined up outside waiting for the front doors to be opened and I asked Caden if he'd hold my hand or if he's too cool for that now. He quietly said he was too cool. Keep in mind, his eyes didn't leave the crowd of kids the entire way into the building. So, being the over-protective mother that I am, I firmly placed my hand on his head instead. More to comfort myself, and yes, I realize this is my doing.

We walk inside the classroom and he's the last one to arrive. I felt terrible as he shrunk back a little after seeing all of these eyes staring at him. But he found his seat and let me walk out with a little peck on his head and a tight squeeze of his arm.

He was all smiles at the end of school that day.

Day two...the first full day. This time, I walk him in because we had forgotten some stuff that needed to be dropped off...this time, four boxes of Kleenex tissue...I barely get around to his side of the car and he grabs my hand. Again, his eyes never leave the sight of the big kids standing around outside.

I couldn't help but smile. As brave as we all want to seem, sometimes you just need a hand to squeeze to know you're not alone. I have never felt so proud of my son as I have this week. It feels like my heart doubles in size at moments like these...And I have a feeling that it's just the beginning.

Only kids know what unadulterated happiness feels like.

My little family of four traveled four blocks over to our town's carnival last night. I have to admit, I was a little bit in awe. A town with less than 300 people and a three-day carnival that takes up the entire main street area. It was quite a sight. But what was even more amazing was the look in my children's eyes. It was pure bliss at its finest.

They couldn't wait to ride the rides, play games for cheap toys and see all of their friends. But on this night, it was even more magical. First came my son's slow bike race. We recently took the training wheels off of his bike and I was nervous about how steady he would be trying to ride slow. But he was amazing...just the fact that he understood the concept of the race was amazing to me.

Next up was our daughter's foot race. I have to admit I was nervous. She rarely runs without falling on her face. I don't know where she gets it but that girl is one clumsy lady. There are many days she comes part way into the room and just falls over, tripping over nothing. Anyway, her daddy stood on the starting line with her while I waved from the finish, hoping that she'd run to me. "Go" was yelled and away they went; a bunch of little tikes running for their lives, although I'm sure none of them knew why.  The closer my daughter got to me, the louder her giggles became. And the look on her face was sheer happiness. She had no idea why she should feel so gleeful but she did and she let it show. It was truly amazing, and I realized that as adults, we're robbed of unadulterated happiness. How wonderful it would be to see the world through their eyes one more time.

As brave as they want to be, it takes time.

My five year old son has been begging me to ride his bike alone. Around the block. Down a park path and back. Two blocks over to see his dad at work, etc. Little by little, I've been giving in to him. We talk about Stranger Danger all of the time and I do feel that I need to let go a little once in awhile.

But I learned that it's very possible and very easy to give too much.

Yesterday was T-ball practice. We've had many, many practices. I've spent several hours already this summer, entertaining his little sister while he plays ball. And, unlike wrestling, I've never seen him making sure I'm watching or asking where I am. He's seemed very enthralled in the game and in his new friends. Halfway through practice, his sister and I trekked two blocks away to visit with his daddy. With fifteen minutes of practice left, we make our way back. And as I searched the field for Caden...not in the outfield. not in the infield. Not up to bat...my heart began to sink.

I started searching the playground, thinking that maybe some of the kids were dismissed early but he wasn't there either. A moment later, he emerged from the park restroom, holding hands with one of my new could-be friends. Tears were streaming down his face. I could see his heaving chest from halfway across the park. I jogged over to find out that he needed to use the restroom and got scared when he couldn't find me. The woman had gone looking for him after he'd been in the restroom for several minutes.

Thank God she didn't have to help him with anything in the bathroom but still, I was mortified and really felt that I just earned the Worst Mother award. After apologizing over and over again and comforting my son, we scurried home.

After a warm bath, a warm hug or ten of them, and some dinner, he was back to normal. And I'm still feeling guilty today...

Happy Easter

I realize it's a little late, but much of our holiday was spent on the couch watching movies with the flu. But it didn't spoil our gratefulness of having each other in our lives...

We've been manipulating people to get our way since birth.

I first noticed this new game with my five year old son. But amazingly, my two year old daughter has already caught up with him. Making up little lies to get their way...as in asking one parent for permission for something and then going to the other parent and, instead of asking the same question, telling them that the other parent said it was okay.

Seriously, I hear them virtually every day:
"Daddy, mommy said I can go to grandpa's and you're going to drive me there."
"Mommy said you're naughty."
"Mommy said I could have candy."
"Grandpa, my mom said I can come help you tear out that fence."

It goes on and on. What I haven't quite figured out yet though, is when will they realize that I can hear them. And I hear it all the time. And they get busted for it all the time.

Kids are brilliant and completely naive simultaneously...every day.

Our biggest emotions happen around age 5.

I learned a great deal from my son's Terrible Two's. He taught me that the age of three is even worse as far as behavior goes. But just when I found myself sulking in how fast he's growing up, I'm hit with another behavioral challenge...learning lesson. Body language.

Or rather, how to control or keep tabs on body language.

I still make him take a nap every day. I still try to make sure he gets plenty of play time outside to burn off his enormous amount of energy. But his emotions are like a light switch. Bright and cheery one moment and dark and scary the next.

Something as small as his sister standing in front of the TV screen sets him off...his body convulsing, screaming like someone just kicked him in the face. Such a racket that I get a little worried that something did in fact come and attack him. One parenting trick I've been focusing on is remaining calm and getting to his level to talk things out. Let me tell you, it's been rough.

At moments like these, it's hard enough to get him off the floor, arms going one way, legs going another. Even his mid-section seems to have a mind of its own. The tantrums of the Terrible Two's have nothing on this new "tantrum." Anyway, when I can get him standing, myself kneeling, I very calmly hold his arms and speak very calm, looking into his eyes. It does no good. He's sobbing so hard and his body is shaking so badly that I end up sending him to his room to relax a little, or pound it out on his pillow until he's ready to talk. The last time, he ended up crying himself to sleep.

But now I understand why all of his book orders have an entire section on body language and talking about your feelings. As an adult, there have been times I've been THAT upset. But now I understand that control is something that must take decades to master. Especially considering if this is where we're beginning from.

Maybe we need to practice yoga or deep breathing exercises as a family...starting now.

Our kids know more about unconditional love than we do.

I've been thinking a lot lately about love, and more specifically, unconditional love. Most often I feel we hear that phrase when talking about parents and their children. But as I grow up and study my children more, I'm wondering if we have it all wrong.

Maybe parents aren't really the ones with unconditional love; it's our kids whose love is so blind. For example, my own relationship with my parents has has it's ups and downs (as do all I would imagine) but because I know that we seem to grow more cynical each year and possibly a little more judgmental as well, I'm beginning to wonder if it affects our ability to love unconditionally. After all, don't we seem to criticize most, those people that we're supposed to love the most?

And yet, I can watch my son, who has seen very little judgment in his five years, call a boy he's seen twice in his life his new best friend. He can attend any luncheon or community dinner or just go to the park randomly some day and make friends. And he genuinely cares for them and is concerned about their happiness and safety. He hugs without thinking twice. Tells me, his dad and anyone else in his life how much he loves them without being prompted. (and yes, I believe he really does)

This season of Lent, I've been thinking a lot about what it means to sacrifice. To cleanse ourselves of negativity or other evils we place on ourselves and start to see the picture un-blurred by our own cynicism once more. I gotta admit, I'm struggling. It's hard to force ourselves to revert back to some form of innocence. But I think if we can get there, we may be more apt to really feel unconditional love for the people around us.

As wise as we get in our age, it seems we too grow colder and less open to love. No wonder why children bring such happiness to a home.

We learn to adapt early on.

My two year old daughter is pretty incredible. At this age, she can speak like a three year old. She has a ton of attitude. And she's already learned the art of adaptability.

Most days, when she wants to cut something herself, dress herself, or any other sign of independence, it's: I'm a big girl mommy. Over and over and over. Seriously I really doubt her brother professed is independence as much as she does. And at first, I just saw it as a typical two year old stage.

But over the last few days, she's shown another side. The I'm-too-little side. And when I want her to clean or go potty or do something that actually takes some work, it's: But I'm too little mommy. (Which is even more frustrating as the first phrase believe it or not.)

I'm sure this is all part of the independence process but I can't help but laugh, even if it's just on the inside, about her ability to decide whether or not she's big enough to do something or not.

Our children are so observant...or are they?

My husband's grandmother elected to go off of dialysis about ten days ago. We all knew what that meant, and I think every visit involved more and more nervous air. That is, except with my children.

The first time I visited her after her last dialysis appointment, I didn't know what to expect and I wanted to make sure I could answer my children's questions if they had any. So I went alone, and was glad to have some time with this woman I've admired from the very beginning. We had a nice chat, with me sitting on the edge of her bed so she could rest.

After that day, we took at least one of our kids over to spend time with their great-grandmother ever few days. Both our five year old and two year old ran into her room without much hesitation. They weren't afraid to walk up to her and visit a little before running off to play. And amazingly, the only question I've ever gotten from our son is why her teeth fall out...which is of course because he saw her take out her dentures one evening. He's brought it up many times and asks me if I'll be able to take my teeth out some day.

But what is so amazing to me is that even after she could no longer speak and was too weak to sit up or interact with them, they never stopped in their tracks, too scared to go in. She remained the same to them the entire time. I only wish we all had that blindness. The ability to remember the best of times and somehow put on the blinders to illness and approaching death. Maybe we would make our time together even more special, or at least void of awkward conversation.

A princess?

My daughter is half way between two and three. She's funny. Smart. And cuddly. But she's tougher than her brother, and much naughtier. So it always catches me off guard when her grandmother tells me she's a princess. In fact, last weekend, she said Cali's a city girl.

These conversations get me thinking about my daughter and who she might be in a few years. Last night was an interesting peek...

Daddy was in the living room watching some hunting show or maybe it was a car show...who knows but it was BORING. So the kids and I hung out in the master bedroom, watching something much more interesting like the Real Housewives or some fashion reality show. Caden quickly fell asleep. But Cali was soon into my things. Handbags. Hair ties. Brushes. Belts. Even a few slips and tank tops. This scavenger hunt quickly turned into a dress up mommy party.

She brushed my hair and styled it with something in her ring box/hair goo container. Then she slipped a few straps from a few different tank tops over one arm. She put eye shadow on using a contact solution container. And tied two or three belts around my neck and midsection. I'm sure I looked like a beauty queen. It was fun and girly. And she threw a massive fit when I told her it was time to clean up for bed.

She may be on the girly side. But her princess moments are less about being an actual princess and more about being two. There's no Disney characters or crowns lying around our house. Just two crazy kids with a ton of imagination and little tolerance for anyone messing with their stuff...even if it's not really their stuff.

They want to grow up way too fast, in every way possible.

Last week my son started a new pre-school. We recently moved and he had been away from a large group of kids for about six weeks. I had prepared myself for him to be nervous or shy or unwilling to go. But on the way there, our conversation was much different...and much more funny:

"Hey mom, when I get big like daddy, and when Cali gets big like you...she's going to have two babies in her tummy. And I'm going to be the daddy."

As disturbing as that statement is, I couldn't help but smile. My kids have been through a lot the last four months. They were forced into becoming best friends as each other was about the only stable component of their lives. I have been worrying about how this move would affect them. And I took a big sigh of relief when my son says things like he wants to be the daddy of his little sisters babies. It's much better than hearing he hates his baby sister and wants her to go back to where she came from.

In my mind, it was a sign that he loves her and wants to protect her. My son is a lover through and through, and I appreciate the love he has for his baby sister. And that, at some level, he feels protective of her and her unborn children, warms my heart.

Don't get me wrong, at some point we'll chat about babies and where they come from and who should have babies together...but for now, I'm just going to relish the fact that he loves his sister very much. If only I could bottle it up and show it to him when they hit high school!