My finest moments

My sister Laura and I were talking on the phone the other day. Laura remembers all of my finest moments, like when I wore a plume on my hat when I was in marching band...

Or when I worked at Arctic Circle for a month...

I have another fine moment to share.

Not too long ago, I was having a morning where I was really struggling with my four hoodlums. Morning begins with my alarm going off several times and then I finally peel my exhausted body out of bed at 6:30. Aaron and I pray and then I stumble to get something appropriate on to rally the troops (Typically this is some form of workout pant and sweatshirt). I try so hard to maintain some level of patience but unfortunately that morning it was lost in about 5 minutes, as it often is. I hope to someday be the perfect mom (don't hold your breath). Well, as I head up stairs to peel the rest of the family out of their beds, I cringe to think that Damian, the youngest, will cry when I wake him up. He is 5, almost six. This crying episode happens almost everyday. After struggling with him for a few minutes and finally get him into the kitchen table to eat with his brothers, I finish off their lunches and they go about getting ready for the day.

This is where I stop and spare you all the details of the arguing and whining. I will tell you this though, my second oldest son was having some attitude issues and by the time we all got to the door and had our coats, hats and gloves on, Tomy (said son) headed out and slammed the door and Zach (3rd son) followed closely behind. Mind you, we were running very behind and I was beyond frustration. I proceed to grab the youngest and fly out the door. This was as soon as we got his big bulky winter boots on and his snow pants in his bag. We get out to the minivan (I love and hate at the same time) and everyone has gotten in but me. I grab the handle and it is locked. I panic because I am almost certain that the bus will be gone, and I will be left with 4 boys with some sad and angry looks on their faces. I am confused. How did my door get locked and all the others unlocked? I am very skeptical but don't have time to think too much about it. I speed down the road to the bus stop and the bus is not there. I know in my heart that it's gone, so I speed down the road to see if I can find the "twinkie", the name my boys gave the bus. The twinkie is not too far down the road, but I am still freaking. The bus stops and the boys get out to run to get on. One neighborhood child gets on and the bus driver closes the door before my 4 boys get on. I wanna cry. My baby (the youngest) has already cried. We are a mess! I motion for them to come to me and they come and we chase after that damn twinkie again! Finally some kids yell at the bus driver to stop and he does. My boys run to get on. At that point, I feel defeated, even though we caught the bus.

After I told this story to Laura, and she was laughing so freakin hard, she told me she pictured me the whole time in a blue housecoat. One that is similar to the housecoat my mom once wore when we were kids. I laughed after she told me that.

Have you ever laughed and cried at the same time? It is a strange mix of emotions.

My hope is to share some of my life's crazy stories so that Laura, you, and I can have a good laugh. Laughter is the best medicine and I need all the medicine I can get!

A picture doesn't always say a thousand words

I was just looking through some pictures that have been taken in the last 6 months of our family. I am very grateful we are able to have pictures. I do love those tangible memories. Most of the pictures that we take in our families, we expect everyone to stop and smile. Well, I was just thinking about how life doesn't always produce smiles and we don't often take pictures of those times when we are feeling sad, frustrated, or discouraged. These are all very real feelings and yet we don't want to record them for our posterity. Why? I sometimes think that we often stop and smile at people and things just like we do a camera and it may not be a true indication of how we feel. Part of me thinks that it is good. You have heard of the saying, "fake it til you make it?" I think we can fake the smile until it is real. But I also feel like life sucks the positive energy out of you sometimes and it's hard to wake up each day and fake the smile. And why don't we want others to see us that way? I think sometimes it's a fear we have of others seeing that we struggle. Or having them see our weakness and insecurities. I also think that it is easier for us to be unhappy rather than trying to be happy. I have a son named Damian and he used to always give me a fake smile when I took his picture. He is much better at giving a real smile now, but if you take a look at his fake smile, you can see how painful it looks and how much effort is put into giving a fake smile. This is the same person who says, "it's hard to be good, Momma." I am telling you, sometimes it is hard to smile for real, but smiling is good. My point in all of this is, I am going to allow myself to feel the whole range of feelings, but I am also going to try to fake the smile til I make it more so that eventually my smile becomes real and it rubs off on others because I also believe that smiling is contagious and if I can try to make people a little happier, I will, even if sometimes it is hard work.