sweet relief

The last two weeks have been a blur.  What started off as a routine mammogram; a 40th birthday present from my gynecologist, turned into an odyssey of anger, fear and extreme compartmentalization (a super power that I was unaware that I possessed, until now.)  In a moment, this control-lover had no choice but to relinquish everything to "what might be" and just move through.

I'm not squeamish about medical procedures or even overly modest, but I have to say that breast biopsies rank (in my experience) among the least tolerable.  They're not too painful, but seriously violating.  Lying half-naked on a cold table with four chatty women adjusting, groping, twisting and smashing you from below, is not my idea of fun.  I was horribly unprepared for the length of the procedure and how I'd feel afterward.  And I now have such respect for all those who have walked this path before me.  And who went on to walk it longer - through much harder terrain.

The physical discomfort of lying frozen for 90 minutes while they compressed, xray-ed, sampled and repeated, was nothing compared to how I felt once we left.  Double-tight Ace-wrapped with a hematoma and, I guess, a temporarily half-broken heart, I cried most of the way home, unable to share with my poor husband why I was even crying.  I'm not a crier and I suppose that made the whole thing even worse for him.  But I had been storing up all my "what if's?" and "how will I's?" for two whole weeks while looking into the eyes of my children.  Every time I felt happy, which was often, I immediately went to a different place and then, thankfully, I was able to sweep the fear away.  When I needed it most, my ability to set it aside and wait without surface worry kicked in with a vengeance.  Who knew I could do that?

I don't mean that I didn't have a few sleepless nights or dark moments, I did.  I've had my share of issues health-wise this year and I'll admit that I felt some serious self-pity.  But I survived it like we all do. We do because we must.  And because we can.

And now I feel like I've won the lottery.  Standing from atop Relief Mountain, I'm too aware that I could be in Victim Valley, if one microscopic cell was different on a slide.  I am grateful beyond words that what I feared is not the path I need to travel.    I've been given the gift of love and support from those who knew what was going on, and I'm so thankful for that, too.  "Thank you" doesn't even come close to conveying how I feel.

All that's left to do is move on and live this precious, blessed life to the fullest.  Let's get going!

the village matters so much

Finn's baseball season ended last night and it's bittersweet.  While I know we're all ready for some free summer evenings around here, it's been so much fun watching him learn the game and get better along with his young teammates from the sidelines.  We lucked out with super supportive coaches and families, all there to ensure that our kids were challenged, confident and learning all season long.  We've experienced the same community, kid-valued spirit on Logan's swim team and it's made me realize how important it is to have a "village" like this behind our kids. 

Not only are they learning skills, having fun and spending time doing things they love, they're also feeling part of a bigger group of their peers and other families who cheer and support them right along with their own family.  They join that group in support of other kids.  Their enthusiasm builds and the group's numbers grow, until we are all cheering everyone on together, inspiring so many good vibes, that I can't even describe it with words.  The "village" behind our kids matters so much.

So as baseball winds down, I'm already looking forward to the fun and camaraderie of next year.  Of all the great times, plays and laughs, my favorite moment has to be this one:

Our team was at bat Monday night and Finn was supposed to be in the hole.  He had run off to relieve himself in the prairie grass behind the field since there were no bathrooms on site.  We knew he was up and we were calling and calling to him, as his spot moved from the hole, to the deck.  Just as the little guy before him got a hit, he appeared in front of me, with two freshly picked cone flower blooms and a shy smile.  Then he ran off to hit the ball.

On Monday, more than any other day, I needed this.  I didn't know it, but Finn did.

announcing abby

So in love with my beautiful new niece!

onward and upward with YOU

As someone who lives to learn and write about the good things that stand out in our lives every single day, I'm also human and occasionally catch myself urging my kids to conform.  In hindsight, this shocks me.  What is it that makes me think I need to change something about their uniqueness in order to make them want to be just like everyone else?  I'm not sure.

The fact is, it need only matter to them if their clothes don't fit right or their hair isn't brushed.  For nonconformity outside the realm of health and personal safety, what can really go wrong?  Discovering their own likes and style should come from them, not from annoying reminders from me.  Years ago, I was appalled by parents who were hopeful that their children would be teased for sucking their thumb or acting foolishly with hopes it would curb the behavior. I was the parent who fought to ward off all that harmful harassment with too much information that my kids could not, and would not, digest.

While I'm much more willing now to let them learn lots of life lessons on their own, I still falter into my mama bear role at times.  But I fight hard to let THEM stand their ground and be their own people and personalities.  As long as they are good at heart, being exactly who they are and not worrying a lick about what the world thinks is the best way to go, if you ask me.  I, like most of us do about our own kiddos, already think they're perfect anyway.

We will love them like crazy no matter what, who, how, when or why.  So onward and upward with YOU, I say.  Off into the future to just be everything good that YOU already are.

finger trap

Yesterday we played hooky.  Mike and I both threw caution to the wind, pushed work aside and took the kids to Raging Waves Waterpark.  It was a great day, although by lunch time the lines were brutal and the lazy river looked more like a crowded Florida beach on spring break that anything remotely relaxing.  Regardless, the kids had a blast, which is all that really matters, and we did, too.

While the girls went off to try another slide, Mike and I reluctantly agreed to ride that river with Finn, once again.  I am not a fan of EXTREMELY crowded public pools, so this was truly a labor of love.  We found two tubes, plunged in, linked up and popped Finn in Mike's lap.

I'm not sure what the deal is with kids of all ages being allowed to walk, run, splash, dive and swim without tubes in the lazy river.  I can't tell you how many times they swam right under my tube, tried to pop up between us or forcefully moved us out of the way so that they could continue their game of chase or chicken.  It was the exact opposite of relaxing (whatever that is.... parenting, maybe?)

In the few moments my mind was actually able to wander while we were shoved and knocked around,  Mike and I linked hands to stay connected to each other.  We weren't holding hands, but instead had our palms both faced downward, with our fingers interlaced and pointing toward each others' wrists.  Each time we were pushed or pulled away from each other, our fingers locked and tightened effortlessly, just like a Chinese finger trap.

It's funny, I thought, a good marriage is like a Chinese finger trap.  (Bear with me here.)  We're linked up and all intertwined, constantly combating things like demanding children, obligations and circumstance that attempt to pull us away from each other.  But the link of a solid marriage is strong, like a Chinese finger trap.  The harder life pulls or pushes, the stronger the bond.  Working together, whatever the goal, is the only option.  So, no matter what life brings, we can face it together, head on, and emerge even better than before.

"Trap" is a definitely a bad word choice and we've certainly faced greater challenges than the lazy river, but you get the idea.  If this is a trap, I'm grateful to be in it.

keep on holding tight

This time of year, as I wrote about last year (and the year before) is all wonderful and summery, but with an undercurrent of dread.  For the last several years, I've let the kids fly on their own to go visit Grandmom and Granddad in North Carolina before our annual summer vacation.  Even though summer is off and running and we're enjoying it to its fullest extent, occasionally my mind goes to the fact that in a few short weeks, I'll be putting a subset of my kids on a plane.  That will fly in the sky.  Without me on it.

And this year is different.  For the first time, it's not a subset, but a full set.  The three most precious little people in my world will look back and wave, board a plane and happily take off into the wild blue yonder.  Fearless and filled with a spirit for adventure, they'll speed away.

I already know this will be the worst two hours of my life and I'm already thanking my lucky stars that it's only two hours.  For someone who likes to hold the reigns, this is the epitome of letting go.  Once they're there, I'll be fine.  I love that they're going.  That they have these memories with their grandparents who live far away.  That they don't even entertain hesitation - they just fly.

Even though he waivered a bit in the begining, I'm sure Finn is ready.  However, I see something in his eyes when we talk about going, the logistics, what it will be like.  He looks at me as if to say, "Will you be okay?"  Even if I've said nothing at all, this little old man of mine knows how I'm feeling.

Last week, while walking around the Naperville Riverwalk, Finn grabbed my hand as usual.  Whenever my grip loosened, he repeated, "Hold on tight.  I like it when you keep on holding tight."  And since then, anytime we're near each other, he grabs my hand and says the same thing.

While watching a movie on Friday night, he took my hand and placed it on his chubby, dirty, boy foot.  He pressed down.  "Hold tight.  I like it when you keep on holding tight."

Either he's going to miss me or he knows I'm going to miss him.  I suppose both are true and he's easing us both through by reminding us to keep on holding tight.  I so love this little dude.

super sausage sluggers

As with almost any recipe that I create, this one came from necessity.  Another night out, on the baseball field this time, and the desire to cook and not purchase subs, again, led to these yummy hoagies on the go.  It was my intention to serve them at home, but the clock ran out and the natives were starving, so I wrapped and we went.  Here's what you need:

1 package of Italian sausage, spiciness to taste
1 bell pepper, any color
1 onion
1 can Hunt's Diced Tomatoes with Spicy Red Pepper
hot dog buns
fresh mozzarella cheese (I usually slice a plain log, but I had these tiny balls left over from caprese bites I made for a party last weekend, so I just sliced those.)
olive oil

Prep time: 5 minutes, Total cooking time: 1 hour, 10 minutes
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Slice onions and peppers in half moon shapes.  Place sausage in bottom of a 9 x 13 casserole dish and drizzle with a little olive oil.  Top with sliced peppers and onions and tomatoes with juice.

Cover tightly with foil and cook for 30 minutes.

After 30 minutes, remove foil and stir.  Cook another 30 minutes, uncovered.

Remove dish and turn on broiler.  Place one sausage link, topped with a heap of tomatoes, onions and peppers and some sliced mozzarella in a hot dog bun and place on a foil lined baking sheet.  Repeat with remaining sausage links.  Place tray under broiler.

Watch your Sluggers; cheese should melt and begin to brown in about five minutes.  Remove from oven.

If you're on the go like we were last night, line a sheet of foil big enough to wrap your sandwich in with parchment or wax paper, and roll up from the corner.  They stay hot FOREVER.  We enjoyed them about an hour later and they were perfect.  By the way, Mike LOVES these and I don't really eat sausage and I LOVE them, too.  They are the perfect consistency and offer loads of healthy veggies to boot.  For all of you low carb loving carnivores, they're great without the bun, too.  And my girls who hate sausage?  They thought they were the bomb!  (Or maybe they really were starving??)

Full tummies, happy kids, parents that eat before 9 PM and a Yankees' win.  What could be better?

why

Some people think I'm a bit looney to share so much on the wide open Internet.  They question my decision to endanger our privacy or place pictures and names of our children online.  I've wandered into controversial territory once in awhile and likely conveyed too many personal things at times.  But I've realized that I'm comfortable here, in front of everyone and no one in particular.  I have grown to love this blog and look at it as the true essence of me, on the proverbial page.  For the world to see, yes, but more importantly, for my kids to know.

This collection of words now nearly five years in length is among a short list of my most prized possessions.  (How ironic that one of my most prized possessions is virtual!)  A list of celebrations and stories of our good and bad, some so small or seemingly insignificant that they may have been forever lost if not captured here.  I read through its history from time to time and remember cherished moments, hilarious infractions and unbelievable comments my children have made.  I see the faces of those I love the most growing, moving through their unique life experiences.  I feel how the earlier days of motherhood left me completely physically exhausted and see how it's now more of a physical and emotional consumption.  I witness how we're all changing, evolving together and on our own.  How we all continue to try to find the good in every day, to become wiser.  And better.

I am forever grateful for the inspiration I felt in 2007 to begin this adventure of chronicling our days.  It is, to me, the best baby book of all time (the three that belong to our children have barely anything written since 2007), among the best decisions I've made and hopefully, a lifeline to all that we were, are and will be.  Even if I live to be 100 someday, but lose my ability to tell these stories, I love that they've been told.  I love that they'll be able to be read.  And felt.

Good and bad, this is our true story.

I'm sure that someday, our descendants might not be so interested, and that the Internet will have morphed into some other type of thing.  But for now, I'll continue to remember, to retell, to relish this life of ours.  All-consuming and challenging as it may be, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

hamburger

Throughout my childhood, I always had a fondness for my last name.  While other kids were uttering mouthfuls of "Schumaker" and "Humperdink", and learning to spell complexities like "Vanderplow", I was grateful for "Logan".  It was simple and made for easy new school introductions throughout our repeated transfers all over the Midwest during my young days.

I remember being thankful for that name and feeling that I was lucky to have it.  I even thought ahead about what an atrocity it would be to marry someone with a complicated or silly name someday.  Out of nowhere, the name "Hamburger" stuck in my mind.  Oh, the hilarious horror of becoming "Molly Hamburger" in the future!  I didn't obsess about it or anything, it just made me laugh.  Of course, this was before I walked into Mr. Brandon's sophomore English class and met the man of my dreams.  But that's another story.

"Hamburger" made me chuckle all through the years as I imagined myself or my friends with this silly surname down the line.  And as my life unfolded, I was relieved when my knight in shinning armor came attached to "Anderson"; just about as good as "Logan", if you ask me.  Still, I couldn't totally part with my maiden name, so I took it as my middle name to avoid being Molly ANNE ANderson.  And, admittedly, to hang on to it a little bit longer.  We then went on to name our firstborn daughter, Logan, too.  Lots of "Logan" for me.

But my personal penchant for "Hamburger" made a resurgence when I had a new young audience to entertain and I soon began telling my kids what a funny name I thought it was.  "What if you marry someone with the last name Hamburger?" I joke with my kids.  They laugh.  They think it's just as funny as I do.

Last night, while driving to gymnastics drop off and then to a baseball game, the kids were having a usual raucous discussion, this time about great movies.  One of our favorites, The Princess Bride, came up.  Logan was so adorably preteen sweet when she asked, "What's the only thing the farm boy says to her?"

"As you wish," I said and thought, I just love that.

And Logan said, "Oh yeah, I love that!" 

Then Riley asked, "What's that guy's name again?"

"I think it's Prince Humperdink," I answered.

And all three shouted, "Hamburger!  What if his last name was Hamburger?!"  Frenetic laughter broke out in the backseat.

And I laughed, too.  Hard.  It's nice to know these three kids really get me and that I'm leaving my mark on them, even if only via my bizarre history with the word "Hamburger." 

sundays

Saturday used to be my favorite day of the week.  No early wake up call, no early bedtime; the perfect sandwich of sleeping and waking freedoms, if you ask me.  But kids came and my night owl tendency morphed into early bird survival and I soon fell prey to a comfy place to fall around 10 PM, Saturday or not.  Now my favorite day is Sunday.

My childhood may not be chock full of Leave it to Beaver simple, happy days, but it was good in its own way.  One memory that I replay often, or that I've stitched together from a few different ones lodged in my mind, involves Sunday nights.  I remember staying in after dinner, following long, hot summer days.  We'd each take our turn getting showered or bathed and don our PJ's.  Then we'd settle in on our butts around the coffee table and eat ice cream.  We might still be able to hear the neighbor kids outside making the most of warm weather and late nights, but we didn't care.  We enjoyed our treat and got to eat in front of the TV.  And if I'm right, I think we watched 60 Minutes.  We must have really liked that ice cream, because it fails to occur to me how four kids sat for an hour and happily watched that show.  I still love it.

Thirty years later, I ache for Sunday nights all week long.  I'm hesitant to ever plan anything, as I know an endless, busy week will be taking its toll by then and I'll just want Dove soap-scented, fresh-air-filled, rosy-cheeked kids snuggled up to us on the couch.  I look forward to the sore muscles from lots of yard work and a nearly accomplished to-do list.

This Sunday night we did just that, and we added couch-eaten ice cream. I flashed back thirty years as I looked at my kids' faces, with chocolate smudges and laps balancing big bowls of our favorite treat.  We didn't watch 60 Minutes, but we did hear the neighbor kids' happy young voices stretching out the weekend to its fullest extent.  There was not one complaint.

These are my favorite kind of moments.  Laughs, love and ice cream goodness with those you love.  I breathed in their youth as we sat there, focusing for a moment on each of their beautiful faces and holding tight to my patience as Riley and Finn argued about who would sit next to me on the couch.

"Tomorrow we'll have a 1st, 3rd and 5th grader," I thought.  Amazing.

And then, after my last spoonful of the most delicious ice cream ever made, Oberweis' Blueberry Pie, I promptly fell asleep on the couch.

Life is good.

shoestring living: tips on giving kids allowance

This week's Shoestring Living focuses on how to effectively implement an allowance system with young kids this summer and beyond.  I struggle and have failed with this every summer so far, but not this year!  Read about my plan in one of the papers running it, the MexicoLedger.

And, if you're so inclined, take a peek at the associated video running on the Star Courier.

I'm so excited about this new system and can't wait to put it to work for us on Monday, June 11th.  I figured we needed a few free days before starting our engines.

____________________
Check out some of my other Shoestring Living articles and videos:

Shoestring Living: May 24th:  Plan Summer Now
Shoestring Living: Tips for your Frugal Garden
Shoestring Living: Making Mother's Day More Meaningful

shoestring living: tips for reviving old routines

My column this week for the GateHouse News Service

For our family, summer is just one more school day away. Parents everywhere are screaming for a change in the routine and I am no different. I’ve announced a moratorium on lunch making, can barely push myself through our get-out-the-door rituals and updated my Facebook status this morning with, “Will this school year ever end?”

Read more.....

someone new, this day, comes

I am crazy-excited!  Sometime today, or in the wee hours of tomorrow morning, my third niece or first nephew will arrive!  My brother Tom, his wife Michelle and their two daughters, Emily and Ellie will be welcoming someone, gender unknown, into the world.  I can't wait to help welcome this new little life.

When someone I know well is on the verge of ushering in a new baby, I just can't get it out of my mind.  I doubt this feeling of excited anticipation of what's to come will ever diminish for me.  It takes me right back to the three most cherished days of my life, when we were blessed beyond words with the most precious responsibility and honor this world has to offer.  There is no way to describe that feeling, those treasured moments.  I am at a loss.

I love that I have a version of that wonderment again today, with this tiny little extension of our family on the way, ready to love and be loved and show us all how much more our hearts can hold.  Will it be pink or blue?  I can't wait to know and share the news with you. 

For now, a walk down my memory lane will have to do. 

For these moments of our own... I am thankful each and every day.

this is real baseball guys!

Finn's first baseball game was such a surprise; with good plays, solid efforts by all and decent hits!  Our little man ended the night with two singles, an RBI and one run!  The game even came complete with our first-ever baseball freak-parent on the other team.  This opposing coach challenged our coaches on several plays, constantly going back and forth on his own implementation of MBA rules and enlisting a harsh learning curve whenever possible.  He ranted loudly to the parents and coaches on his own team when he had a grievance, not hiding his frustration at all.  It was kind of shocking, I mean, they're SIX!

As we watched from the sidelines, Mike said, "Now I think I see how little league fights happen, because I'm not even coaching and this guys is making me mad!"

Another fan, close to her due date, said, "This guy better be careful, or he'll have a crazy pregnant woman on his hands!"

Even with all that, the game was great fun, their skills so improved from last year and our New York Yankees took some serious pride in their first win:  12 - 9 over the Arizona Diamond Backs!  Here's the highlight role... could that uniform be any cuter?  I can't even stand it.

The best part was when Finn crossed home plate after working his way around the bases, one at a time, thanks to his teammates' hits.  Look at his face beaming with pride below!  Once he crossed, he threw his arms in the air and said, "Home Run!" and then high-fived us. 

What a great night. We laughed with friends, encouraged our kiddos on with the other parents and listened to the girls cheer for their brothers from behind the dugout.  Later, I came home to a note on Facebook from a friend who was still at her son's game at 11 PM (in the freezing prairie winds) so I know it won't always be short and sweet like this.  We're soaking up every minute while we can.  Congrats to Finn on a great start to the season!

 Finn just after crossing home plate

Can't wait for the next one!