Good Morning, Sports Fans!

Posted on April 9, 2013 by gretcheno

I am not a sports fan. I could care less about who wins what, who’s playing who, who got traded to whatever team. I do have a few opinions about athletes…but it’s probably best to just keep those to myself. 

Okay, I do admit that I am fond of my alma mater, the Oregon Ducks, but my sports-affiliated allegiance ends there.

My husband, thankfully, shares my indifference to sports. This means I am not subject to Sunday afternoon/Monday night/Thanksgiving Day marathons of misery. (Now that’s something I can cheer for!) I have noticed something about him, though, which I find interesting. He does not enjoy watching sports…but if he is forced to in the few times I put on an Oregon game, for example, he gets more into it than I do. I want to know who won…that’s all I really care about. But he comes out with these explanations of incredulity that surprise me every time he utters them. “Oh!” “Uff!” “AHHHH!” I have been “watching” the exact same game (while reading a book, doing the dishes, or surfing the web) but he has been sucked in, whereas I have no idea what just happened because I’m only interested in the final results.

It was interesting, I must admit, the two times that our separate alma maters played each other in the Fiesta Bowl a few years back. The first year Oregon won…the second year Minnesota won. He called it justice. I called it a bummer.

Anyway, this sports-deficit in my character came to light lately as I found myself washing my son’s gym bag.

This, according to some definitions, is an antique bag. Spring term of my freshman year in high school, I received it through my school as a reward for having good grades. It is a blue and yellow Seattle Mariners bag, though I don’t think my son has ever been ridiculed for having a Mariners bag in this land of the Minnesota Twins because the writing is all worn off. 29 years does that to a free, nylon bag.

I think I also received a free ticket to a Mariners game, but I can’t remember if the one Mariners game I did attend was then or a few years later. All I know is that I went once, to a game in the now-destroyed Kingdome, and that Seattle lost to Boston. I could have cared less.

I do remember, however, thinking, “Why the heck did I get a free sports bag just because I got good grades?” This was the beginning of the era of “everybody wins”. It was also when some of my friends began being rewarded with five dollars (or whatever) from their parents for every “A” on their report card…as opposed to the expectations from my parents which was that I do well because God gave me a good brain and I ought to use it.

This, by the way, is the same incentive we use with our kids.

As I threw that old Mariners bag into the wash, I wondered, vaguely, if it would come out okay or if I was dooming it to the garbage can.

And yes, I cared a lot more about that than whether or not the Twins/Mariners/anyone-on-God’s-green-earth win the pennant this spring.

I mean, this is a useful bag!

I’d hate to actually have to pay for a new one to replace it.

‘Tis the Season for Christmas Pageants!

Posted on December 25, 2012 by gretcheno

Merry Christmas! How handy that my favorite holiday lands on a Tuesday, my favorite day to post. I know that many of you are busy today, and this entire week (okay, month) but I’m posting anyway because I have a few pictures and thoughts to share with you.

My topic? Christmas Pageants.

If you were a star, wouldn’t you use your prop as an air guitar, too?

Ever since I was a wee girl, singing “Away in a Manger” (in which, apparently, I sang, “The ‘tars in the ‘ky”) in the church Christmas program, I have loved Christmas pageants.

The very phrase conjures up images of dimpled angels with crooked halos; wooly and grumpy sheep sweating under the lights, their guardian shepherds wielding eye-poking crooks; and small boys wearing their father’s bathrobes, gaudy crowns perched rakishly on their heads. Who couldn’t love such a scene?

A few of the animals at the stable. In various degrees of happiness.

And don’t forget Mary and Joseph, two adolescent kids standing awkwardly side-by-side, gazing adoringly at a plastic doll and trying desperately not to look as if they despise each other while their mothers nervously wonder if, someday in the not-so-distant future, those two kids – who have, of course, known each other since diapers – could possibly ever be excited to be so linked.

Some moms are praying that they will. Some are praying that the casting is in no way prophetic and dreaming up ways to fake an angelic visit should such a thing ever be even a remote possibility. An angel that warns girls to run far away from boys until she is at least 22 and out of college.

Mary, of course, didn’t have that option. For several reasons.

The shepherds as they received the Good News!

But I didn’t mean to write about theology. Though, if you really think about it, the very scene I just described – the quintessential Nativity Scene (crèche/nursery/manger scene, depending on what country you hail from) – is, in and of itself, biblically inaccurate because the wise men didn’t make it to the manger. They came when Jesus was two. But those wee boys in their robes are just too cute a tradition to break.

The whole cast in all their glory.

But I digress. Again.

I love the annual Christmas program. I love the kids tripping over their costumes. I love the shepherds pretending that their staffs are lightsabers. I love the kid who holds the “M” card upside down, turning “C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S” into “C-H-R-I-S-T-W-A-S”.

Christ was what?

“Wise” men…always a debatable term…

But back to the pageants.

I love the tiny band, formed of kids still learning how to hold their instruments without bonking their neighbor with the fully-extended trombone slide. I love the off-key, ear-splitting racquet. “Make a joyful noise unto the Lord!” The band is my favorite.

That’s my boy!

I love the tone-deaf kid who sings his or her heart out, two beats behind the rest of the angelic choir. I adore that kid.

My favorite wee angel – one year ago.

I also adore the small, sweet voices that stumble over their lines. The bold voices who, I know, have worked nightly on their parts and stand with confidence before the microphone because they know this, though three weeks ago they feared they could never do it. (One girl, during this year’s program, gave her mom a wink after doing her line. It was priceless!) I love the expressive voices and I love the tentative voices, whose owners look at me, their die-hard director, encouraging them from the front pew, just needing that nod, that smile, to boost their confidence.

“You can do this!” I say with my grin. “Ignore Grandma and Grandpa in the audience. Don’t pay attention to Aunt Suzy’s video camera. Don’t be afraid!”

Don’t be afraid…“Fear not…The Lord is with you…Blessed is she who has believed that what the Lord has said to her will be accomplished.” – Luke 1

And I do believe.

I love this photo.

C-h-r-i-s-t-W-A-S…Still is.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Last year’s whole cast.

Rudolf the Smooth-Nosed Reindeer

Posted on December 11, 2012 by gretcheno

Our tree in all its glory.

A few of my favorites. The bird was my grandmother’s, I believe. I made the polka-dotted ball a few years ago…

My grandmother’s Lifesaver clown. I’m guessing the candy is…oh…about 35 years old!

I love unpacking our Christmas things. I don’t even mind the mess, when, for a few days, boxes and storage tubs fill the living room and I can’t get the tree sap off of my elbow. I love unwrapping the tissue from each special ornament – and, truly, each one is precious to me. The ones I’ve had since childhood, the ones my grandmother or mother or sisters made, the ones my children created, the ones that carry memories of places and people – some who are no longer with us – that speak to me of family and friends and love…

The tree was a Grandma creation – the fabulous gingerbread man was made by my niece, years ago. My five year old daughter said, “This is kind of a weird ornament.” I said, “I love it. Hang it up.”

Okay, enough schmaltz. But, really, I do love them. I just am not usually so gushy about it. I’ve told my husband – more than once – that if we ever have a fire, getting out the Christmas boxes is his number one priority. After the kids, that is. And my computer. And my Cutco knives.

Boo made the white “bell” this year. She was attempting to make a snowflake and then decided that it was actually a bell.

I love taking every day things and making them ornaments…like this antique cookie cutter!

My son has picked up my tendency to use non-ornaments as ornaments. Though, to be sure, I wasn’t aware that the Death Star from Star Wars was very Christmasy…still, it’s quite marvelous!

Well, the knives can be replaced. But not so the Christmas decorations. There are some which should be replaced, probably. Like the Rudolf which came as a gift tie-on when I was a kid from one of those cheese-sausage-and-petit-four companies. I loved that Rudolf. I played with him so long that his fuzzy, sprayed-on red nose rubbed off and even my kids think he’s hideous but I won’t ditch him. “Mom, why don’t you throw him away?”

“Because he’s part of my history!” I replied, shocked, as I held him gently the other day. And then I put him back in the box rather than in the “to be put on the tree” pile.

Okay, now do you see why he’s not on the tree?

“Aren’t you going to hang him up?” the kids asked.

“Nope,” I said. “I’ve seen him. That’s enough.” They shook their heads at the unexplainable ways of their mother. I smiled to myself as I remembered making Rudolf run across piano keys and the branches of the 15 foot Christmas trees my dad would cut down from up the mountain behind our house. Those trees – so tall that they had to be tied to the beams across our cathedral ceilings – were part of my childhood too. Tossing Rudolf would be like tossing the memories. And, really, how much room does one four-inch Rudolf take up in the box? Please don’t answer that question.

This is Oscar. I’ve had him since I was wee. I’ve had to replace his shell a few times…

My husband’s aunt recently gave us this – it was his grandmothers. A lovely reminder of a lovely woman.

So many of our ornaments were made by loved-ones. My grandmother would make us all a felt, sequined ornament each year. As she aged, they became increasingly less fancy and also increasingly…odd…but that was okay. I love the tassel octopus just as much as the others. Though, admittedly, if I’m hanging the ornaments it will possibly be placed strategically at the back of the tree. The back needs covering, too!

Two of my grandmother’s creations, made in her prime.

The stocking was made by my aunt years ago. I made ones for my family to match. The marvelous snowman is one of my favorites made by my mother.

The stocking was made by my aunt years ago. The marvelous snowman is one of my favorites made by my mother.

My kids, of course, have been notorious for hanging ornaments on one branch. I think I counted 13 on one tiny twig one year. The older two don’t really do that anymore, but Boo, at age five, still does a little bit. I love it, though. But, yes, I admit that I tend to spread the love a bit after they go to bed. 13 is just a few too many for two inches of twig to handle. But I’m not nuts about moving their stuff. I want it to be their tree…not some magazine-perfect, untouchable thing.

A couple of my newer Swedish finds. I love these, too!

I always thought our tree was beautiful. Then I looked back at photos from previous years and suddenly it occurred to me that, possibly, it wasn’t as gorgeous as I thought it was. But who cares? I love it as it is and that’s what matters, yes?

The snowflake my middle sister made, the heart our oldest sister made. The blue ball is my son’s work of art, the girl on the swing is from Okinawa in the 60′s and the wonderful candycane rocking horse was another of my grandmother’s amazing creations.

More of my sister’s handiwork.

My oldest sister’s work again. Oh, to have her sewing machine!

And my kids love it, too. All three of them. They corrected me several times when I mistakenly identified certain ornaments as belonging to so-and-so but really they belong to someone else entirely. They know. And someday, when they head off to homes of their own, they’ll have a stash of their very own ornaments to decorate their trees with and I’ll be stuck with the tassel octopus.

Oh, and Rudolf of the rubbed-off nose.

This was from 2009 – looks pretty much the same from year to year, only with a few new ornaments hanging from its evergreen branches.

The obligatory night shot.

Tiny Doors of Mystery

Posted on December 4, 2012 by gretcheno

A very old Advent calendar kept by my mom. Isn’t it wonderful? There are angels…and also Santa inside, sitting at his desk, checking his list. So fun!

“Guess what?” I said to Boo, age 5, in an attempt to distract her grumpy self from the fact that she HAD to finish her toast, brush her teeth, and get dressed because the daddy-school bus would be leaving in 7 minutes.

“What?” she asked, frowning as she struggled into her shirt.

“Saturday is the first day of Advent!” I said, mustering all the excitement I could into my tone as I shoved her legs into her pants.

Boo’s Advent calendar from school. Each day she gets to color in a “button”. It’s awesome.

“What’s ‘Advent’?” she asked, a little curious despite her mood.

“It means that something important is coming,” I explained as I forced her feet into her shoes. “In this case, Christmas!”

“Advent calendars!” Boo exalted, remembering.

“Yep! Now stand up, let’s do your hair.”

Boo dutifully stood, and I looked at her feet.

I had put her shoes on the wrong feet. I had. Not her. me.

“Sit down,” I said, already ripping out the knots.

“I thought you were doing it wrong,” she said.

“Then why didn’t you say so?!” I asked a little crossly.

“I didn’t want to interrupt.”

As we somehow got her into the car along with her siblings, I wondered how on earth we’d be able to fit Advent calendar time into our morning routine. I mean, I might have to wake up a few minutes earlier in the mornings. Heaven forbid.

My Nativity drawing, circa 1975. How fun is this?!

But, the truth is, we love Advent calendars. Though, to be sure, our main one is rather non-traditional. A few years back I bought a felt banner of the Nativity scene – not just a picture, but rather many individual felt characters – wisemen, shepherds, Mary and Joseph, baby Jesus et al – and we began using that as our Advent calendar. I separated them out into little numbered bags, and each day they add to the scene, counting down to the day when the last image of all – Jesus – is placed into his manger.

And yes, in case you’re wondering, we have to keep careful track of who placed Jesus from year to year, otherwise it becomes a fight. Over baby Jesus. Not good.

Little by little, day by day, we count down to Christmas as we add to the picture.

This is what it looks like when it’s finished!

We love this “calendar” of ours…but we love the more conventional calendars with their tiny doors of mystery as well. I think it appeals to the love of all things miniature that is alive and well within me. Just as I loved my doll house as a child, I love the little numbered doors of the Advent calendars, the wee little pictures of jolly Christmas things hidden behind each opening.

Several years ago my kids made their own Advent calendars and I kept them – now rather ragged –because I couldn’t bear to part with them. My son actually spent quite a bit of his saved-up allowance money last year to buy a Lego Advent Calendar. It was pretty cool, though kind of humorous, too. As I said to him, “What says ‘Merry Christmas’ more than Darth Maul?”

My kid’s homemade Advent calendars from several years ago…not very fancy, but they had fun!

Last year we spent Christmas out in Washington State with my family. As we were unpacking parts of my sister’s German LGB train that runs around her Christmas tree, my mouth dropped open in surprise at something I found in the bottom of the box.

The box had come from our parent’s house and there, wrapped in tissue, was a picture I had drawn probably more than 35 years ago, and, along with it, two advent calendars that had been mine when I was a child.

Yes, I come by this love of Advent calendars honestly.

One of the old Advent calendars kept by my mom.

Today my aunt sent us an Advent calendar app for my computer. And, while it won’t ever be found, years from now, at the bottom of a box, it continues the tradition that my family loves: counting down the days to the celebration of Christ’s birth.

Thanks, Aunt Sandy! And Happy Counting to you all!

A couple “real” Advent calendars that I’ve kept over the years.

It’s no Trick, Just a Wonderful Treat: Glazed Apple Pie Squares

Posted on October 31, 2012 by gretcheno

I am no kind of expert chef or baker, though I do enjoy getting into the kitchen and my friends tell me I ought to make my cheesecakes professionally.
Trouble is, that takes work, and what is now a fun thing to do would become, I’m afraid, a chore. So I’ll stick with just being a mom who likes to bake.

A very happy helper.

This weekend it was the O’Donnell’s turn to bring goodies to church. Without hesitation, I looked up my favorite fall dessert: Glazed Apple Pie Squares. With a sack of Early MacIntosh apples from Ocheda Orchard, I went to work. I hate peeling apples, so I don’t make this too often, and I had decided to make a double batch…which meant even more apples to deal with. I pulled out my trusty Pampered Chef peeler/corer/slicer, enlisted some help, and voila! A treat worthy of any Autumn get-together.

I’d have never been willing to make this recipe without this handy-dandy peeler.

So…grab some apples and get to work: it’s a treat worth the effort, and that’s no trick.

What else do you do with long strips of apple peel but make a game of them?

PS: I’m not great at making pie crust, but this is easy (and tasty) and it’s so much better sticking it in a sheet pan than having it flop down the sides of a pie pan. If I can manage this, you can too!

Yes, the recipe is coming…but first things first.

Fun times with your sister.

Glazed Apple Pie Squares
2 ½ cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp. salt
1 cup cold butter
1 egg, separated
3 to 4 Tbsp. milk
1 cup crushed cornflakes
9 cups thinly sliced peeled tart apples (about 10 medium)
1 cup plus 2 Tbsp. sugar, divided
2 tsp. ground cinnamon, divided
½ tsp. ground nutmeg

Glaze:
1 cup confectioners’ sugar
½ tsp vanilla extract
1 to 2 Tbsp. milk

In a large bowl, combine flour and salt; cut in butter until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. In a measuring cup, combine egg yolk and enough milk to measure 1/3 cup. Gradually add to the flour mixture, tossing with a fork until dough forms a ball.

Divide dough in half. Roll one portion into a thin 15-in. x 10-in. rectangle. Transfer to the bottom of an ungreased 15-in. x 10-in. x 1-in. baking pan. Sprinkle with the crushed cornflakes. In a large bowl, combine the apples, 1 cup sugar, 1-1/2 tsp. cinnamon and nutmeg; toss to coat. Spoon over crust.

Roll remaining dough into a thin 15-in. x 10-in. rectangle; place over apple filling. Beat egg white; brush over pastry. Combine remaining sugar and cinnamon; sprinkle over the top. Bake at 350 degrees for 45 t0 50 minutes or until golden brown.

For glaze, combine the confectioners’ sugar, vanilla and enough milk to achieve a drizzling consistency. Drizzle over warm pastry. Cool completely on a wire rack. Cut into squares.

Deep Thoughts of an Over-Tired Mother

Posted on October 10, 2012 by gretcheno

Parenting is not for wimps. If it’s not lost sleep or illness or picky eaters, it’s skinned knees, sibling rivalry, or difficult friends. Not to mention fashion demands, technology desires, and piano practice debacles. There are days I can handle it all: take it all in stride. I can juggle lessons, rehearsals, tears.

Yes…there are days I can handle all that. But they are few and far between. Mostly I feel like I can barely keep my head above water. (Which reminds me: sign the kids up for swimming lessons, for Pete’s sake.…)

I imagined, foolishly, that when they were out of diapers and into school, things would settle down. Level out.

Boy, was I wrong. Turns out that those pre-school days were really “the good old days”. Pre-school = pre-running from place to place, pre-wanting to have friends over as often as possible, pre-being picky about clothes…not to mention pre-drama.

The funny thing is, I was eager for all of this! I wanted to see my kids grow up, to see how they would “pan out” as people, to get to know them as teenagers and adults. I know, I know…enjoy each moment as it comes, right?

My husband told me that when I was looking forward to our oldest child’s first steps. “I can’t wait for him to run around!” I said one evening, some 13 years ago…and my wise husband said, “It will all be gone so fast. Enjoy this now.”

I am so glad I have a level-headed, logical, let’s-look-at-this-from-all-possible-angles kind of husband. He balances my freaking out.

And maybe, someday, I’ll actually be able to apply what he says on my own prior to leaping before I look.

Maybe. Don’t hold your breath, though.

What I really want, what I really hope to be someday, is a mom who supports her kids (within reason), a mom who loves her kids (even when they’re being stinky), a mom who challenges her kids and encourages them to be all that they can be (without forcing expectations or demands upon them). I want them to love Jesus, not because their parents say they should, but because they truly choose, with all understanding, to do so. And I want them to be able to look back on their childhood with joy…as opposed to running to the telephone book to look up a therapist.

That’s what’s on my mind today. What’s on yours?

The Great Hair Dilemma

Posted on September 4, 2012 by gretcheno

My hair is falling out, my chin is breaking out, and my mind is freaking out, all over one ginormous decision: to color or not to color?

That’s right: I’m going gray. At 42 years old my temples are threatening to turn me into the Bride of Frankenstein.

And I am not a Science Fiction fan. (Well…Star Wars doesn’t count in my book. It’s like Sci Fi for lightweights.)

See, the problem is three-fold.

One: to dye my hair would be to go against everything I’ve always said. I always swore I wouldn’t color my hair. “Just go with it. Don’t hide who you are. Be real.”

Enough of that hippy mumbo-jumbo. I look older than my husband.

Okay, I am older than my husband.

But I look really older than my husband. And that’s just not right.

Two: I don’t like drawing attention to the way I look. Don’t get me wrong: I like attention. It’s one of my fatal flaws. But what I like is attention for the things I do. Not for the way I look. Why? Because I’m insecure about the way I look.

But enough about that. Let’s not draw attention to THAT anymore.

But my fear, see, is that to color my hair will draw attention to me – and that when people see and comment on my hair, they’ll see and think about the fact that I’m not a slim as I ought to be. They’ll see and think about the fact that I don’t like to wear makeup and that the underside of my upper arms jiggle when I wave goodbye.

NOTE TO SELF: Never wave in front of people who don’t love me.

Me…the summer I met my husband. Back when my hair was long and brown and my arms didn’t jiggle.

And, finally, three: I’m lazy and cheap when it comes to my hair. This means that I don’t want to spend a lot of money on dying my hair because I know I’ll have to keep it up which means I’ll have to make appointments (and I don’t like the telephone) and I’ll have to fuss with it and I’ll have to miss writing time to go to said appointments and I’ll have to sit in the hair salon and listen to people gossiping and smell that perm-scented air and…

Okay…admittedly, my fear of hair salons sounds a little outdated. I mean, do people still perm their hair? But still…I don’t like salons. Again, they make people focus on how I look and that stresses me out.

Okay. I guess I’ve carried on long enough so I’ll shut up now. I just wanted to share my anxiety with you all, my support group.

Wait…I just thought of one other thing to be afraid of concerning my hair. I’m afraid, when it comes right down to it, that if I color my hair I’ll hate it and be stuck with it until it grows out and everyone who sees it will say, “Oh, you did something to your hair” they way they say, “Oh, you got a haircut” but they don’t say that they like said haircut…or they say this: “Oh, you cut your hair. It’s SO much better.”

UGH. I thought that insecurities would leave me when I passed puberty.

I thought zits would, too.

Boy, was I wrong.

The First Day of Kindergarten

Posted on August 31, 2012 by gretcheno

It’s too quiet in the car. There’s no little voice singing in the back seat. There are no questions, comments, observations, distracting me as I drive. No requests for Tic Tacs, Kleenex, opinions on made-up tunes. I can put on my music as loudly as I want.

But somehow I don’t want it loud. Somehow none of the stations I pick make me happy.

The very first day. In the rain. A little nervous…but VERY excited!

There is no small body hanging on to the end of my grocery cart. No tiny voice asking me for cupcakes. No suggestions about cheese, soda pop, cereal. No wee girl begging to go see the lobsters in their tank.

But I want to see the lobsters.

The Buddy Box. This is the daytime home of “Buddy”…Boo’s precious blanket. On the first day of school Buddy went to class and stayed in the backpack all day. But on the next two days…into the box she went. She even has a pillow and, of course, a blanket, to make her comfy.

On the second day of school they read The Kissing Hand by Audrey Penn and learned about racoons!

There are no new toys on the floor. No clothes being changed five times a day, no snacks, treats, or meals being requested every time I turn around. There is no one to help me fold the clothes. No one to help me carry in the groceries. No one to water the plants with me, stir the pasta with me, read books with me. There is no one to wait by the bathroom door.

Everything is wrong.

On the first day she came home, changed her clothes…and fell asleep on the couch before dinner!

For 13 years I have put in my time, knowing that someday my time would be my own again.

Now that it’s here I think I want it all back.

I did not think that I would cry.

I was wrong.

Meep’s first day of 5th grade. All three of them began on different days…so I took a general “first day” shot with everyone.

Yes, It’s Worth It

Posted on August 6, 2012 by gretcheno

I have been asked several times over the past two and a half months, whether being in a production like The Music Man is worth my time and energy. Is it worth essentially giving up a summer? Is it worth the lost sleep, energy, and time?

The answer, without a doubt, is “yes”.

Yes, it’s like having an unpaid job. Yes, it drains you. Yes, it requires more brain power than I sometimes have at my disposal.

But it’s worth it.

It’s worth it because I get to see my husband shine on stage. I get to listen to people’s comments in the receiving line after the show and I can’t help but grin. I get to see him, hear him, watch him be Harold Hill. And, in real life, I’m his Marian.

“Mrs. Squires” doesn’t get to kiss “Harold Hill” in the play so I took advantage of an opportunity in the wings.

It’s worth it because I get to see our three kids blossom. I get to hear compliments from our director and other actors, and see them grow and mature. What more can a mom ask for?

Yes, it’s worth it.

I know that time is a precious commodity. One of the most valuable around. It’s easy to quantify time: you simply add up the minutes and find a total. Even I, a mathematical dunce, can do that math. It is far less easy, of course, to quantify quality time, to determine, without question, whether the time you spent was worthwhile…or wasted, was well-spent…or lost moments of your life you’ll never get back again.

I am compelled to tell you today that the time I spent this summer rehearsing, thinking about, and performing in The Music Man has been, unequivocally, time that I not only will get back again – in memories and smiles and nostalgia – but also time that I am delighted to have spent.

Yes, I have had my doubts. When I’m crabby and grumpy and the production seems to be controlling my life. When the “trouble with a capital ‘T’” seems all too apropos. But then we’ll be driving into town with the family and someone says something and suddenly we’re singing “Wells Fargo Wagon” at the top of our lungs and we can’t stop laughing. And then along comes dress rehearsal week and we see everything come together and suddenly we’re in this living, thriving thing that we helped create…and it’s vibrant and funny and thrilling!

Yes, it is exhausting. I am sleeping too long in the morning, and going to bed too late at night. I have bags under my eyes and my hair is all weird from the vast amounts of hairspray I’m using. My kids are tired, too, and I don’t know how on earth they’re going to be back on the right schedules by the time school begins in two weeks.

BUT IT’S WORTH IT.

The whole family!

It’s worth it because my whole family is together, every night, having fun at the auditorium. It’s worth it because we’re working on a project, perfecting it, experiencing it, making it happen together. We’re making friends, deepening relationships, learning, expanding our horizons, getting out of our “box” together.

Our kids are getting to know other kids, but they’re also getting to know teenagers and adults who are kind to them, helpful to them, encouraging to them. They’re getting to see their dad goof around, work hard, and excel. They’re getting to see cast-mates mess up and learning that it’s okay to not be perfect. They’re learning to look out for each other but not to be bossy.

They’re learning to work together – sometimes with people vastly different from themselves – and to do so with dignity and respect.

They’re learning, I hope, to love a little more, listen a little closer, be patient a little longer.

Yes. It’s worth it. A million times over.

So please, come to see The Music Man at the Memorial Auditorium this coming Friday, Saturday or Sunday. Support family-friendly events like this in our community by attending. And THANK YOU so much to those businesses and individuals who have supported the production with your generous donations.

And please, think about participating in such an event in the future with your family.

Because, in spite of everything, it’s worth it.

You Sank my Battleship!

Posted on June 29, 2012 by gretcheno

Ah, the heady days of summer. When the kids start bickering and you start sweating the moment you walk out the door and the cats suddenly realize that if they just hang out around the birdfeeders their chances of a tasty lunch rise drastically.

Darn cats, anyway.

Boo, summersaulting through her summer.

Finally, this week, activities have slowed down. We’ve driven to camps, listened to bands, and tumbled and tucked our way through gymnastics. More lies ahead, but for a few days at least, we can breathe a little more easily, sleep in a little longer.

The trouble, of course, with less running around, means that there’s more time for boredom. My mom used to tell me that only boring people get bored.

I did not appreciate that.

I think, perhaps, that’s it’s not so much boring people/boring minds, but more the fault of laziness. As an adult, I’m never bored. Not ever, I don’t think. But as a kid – and my kids are the same as I was – I know that I would be too lazy to get up and find something to do so I’d just sit there and whine.

The middle school band, rehearsing their “Star Wars” song. I’m particularly fond of one of the tuba players.

As a mother, having offered idea after idea to fill their time, I am faced with several options. 1) Do the suggested activity with them…this always adds to their willingness to do anything, or 2) Holler, or 3) Put up with the whining, or finally, 4) Get so fed up with them that I banish them from my sight.

There may be other options but by that time I’m usually praying for school to miraculously begin early and all I can think about is how willing God might be to answer my prayer.

Today I chose option 1. I have played Battleship (and won by the skin of my teeth), I have gone “Fishin’”, I have made up stories with story cubes, and I have played with cats in the heat and the humidity until I needed a shower – in other words, in about 5 seconds.

Hmmmm…the shower…always a good hide-out option. Maybe I should play games with my kids more often…

Meep, hard at work.

The View From my Window

(Which may be different from – but hopefully compatible with – the view from yours.)

Category Archives: Motherhood