The Last "First Day of Kindergarten"

It's well after midnight and I cannot believe it, but tomorrow is our last "first day of Kindergarten".  My last baby boy will be joining his three older brothers in school all day, every day.  I am having trouble falling asleep.  I'm not sure if its the cup of regular coffee that I had at 8pm with my cooking club tonight or the millions of thoughts streaming through my head.

I figured tonight was as good a time as any to resurrect this old blog that I have left abandoned the last few years while I was working more and trying to keep up with four boys. 

To say that Caleb is thrilled about starting Kindergarten would be an understatement.  He has literally been counting down the days.  Our school district staggers the start of Kindergarten, so that they start a full week after the rest of the school.  During this past week of just Caleb & I, we filled our days with some special treats like heading to Legoland with a friend, a bike ride to get ice cream, and a playdate at the Morton Arboretum with his cousin Grace.  The week was also filled with lots of our normal staples-- lunch together at our kitchen table, reading books, Caleb playing Star Wars guys in his room while I did a load of laundry or sorted through back to school paperwork.  Mixing in the special & the mundane over this past week seemed like an appropriate way to finish off Caleb's season at home and starting his school career. 

All week, I've been oscillating between tears about this season ending to excitement of what is in store next!  For the past 11 years, I've primarily had my focus on being at home either full-time or part-time.  Sure I've worked, but every job I've taken has been through the lens of being available for the kids.  Jobs where I was fitting the work in during their nap time, preschool hours and at night when Jon was home or after they were tucked into bed.  The past two years, I have been experimenting with different roles outside the home and last fall I made the decision to be at home more than not. 

The past 11 years of mothering was a lovely and messy season for me -- days full of laundry, toddler snuggles, nursing newborns, picking up toys, flushing the always unflushed toilets, making meals and cleaning them up just minutes later, giggles, refereeing fights, reading picture books aloud, runs pushing a jogging stroller, runs on the treadmill while littles napped, snapping photos of the chaos, more laundry, etc.  The magical and mundane all mixed together. 

Early on in this parenting gig, I decided that the phrase "SAVOR EVERY SINGLE MOMENT" did not resonate with me.  It was way too much pressure and I think completely unrealistic.   I'm sorry, not everything is savorable.  The 2 am vomit cleanups, the abandoning a cart full of groceries in target to push a cart full of twin toddlers throwing tantrums to the car and the endless bedtime battles weren't things I savored, they were things I survived.  Instead, I focused on "savoring a moment each day" with each boy.  I spent this last season looking for at least one beautiful moment each and every day.  I found those moments where I got to hold a squishy toddler hand to cross the street, read a book to a preschooler snuggled on each knee, heal a scraped knee with a kiss and band-aid, lay in bed next to a child to get them to fall asleep, recognized a boy sharing without being asked, and more.  Those magical moments were right there everyday squeezed in between all those boring everyday moments. I just had to look for them.

This week my mind has been tempted to look back over this past season, at the failures, at missed opportunities and to create regrets where they haven't been any before today.  Each time those thoughts have crept in, I have stopped myself and reminded myself that no, I will not re-write my history that way.  I don't believe in the idea savoring every, single moment. I don't believe in regrets.  I believe in growth.  I believe that life is made up of mundane and magical. I believe that we can savor something in each season.  I believe we can both savor well during a season and still be sad that is ending and it doesn't have to mean regret or that we did it wrong. 

Because we have older boys and this last year has brought more adventures with them -- exploring cities together, reading novels and then comparing them to the movie version, discussions about heavier life topics, laughter about our natural wirings and family stories -- I know there is lots of great stuff to come with Caleb and all of our boys.  I know this and yet, the end of this baby and preschooler season is bittersweet and words feel insufficient.  I am still so close to this season that I can close my eyes and remember the mind-numbing parts (endless laundry, 3 kids in diapers, cleaning the kitchen floor for the 100th time that day), the first-time parent worries and complete exhaustion. And in some ways, it already feels like so long ago that I had newborns falling asleep on my chest, toddlers marching in a band around my living room, preschoolers that pronounced words in the most adorably incorrect ways and little ones that needed to be carried upstairs for naptime.

Caleb announced to me last week that he is in Kindergarten now and would no longer need to be carried downstairs in the morning with his head nestled on my shoulder and his blanket squished around his arm.  I knew that day was coming (and was actually long overdue) but he was my last baby, so I wasn't going to tell him. 

So, if you see me this week and want to know how I'm feeling about Caleb starting Kindergarten and all my boys being in school, the answer is that I am feeling ALL the feelings:  Sadness that this season is over, Excitement for a new level of independence for both Caleb and me, Anticipation of what is to come, Happiness that all four boys are on the same schedule in the same school, Uncertain about what is next for me, Celebratory about the fact that we all survived this season mostly unscathed and with scores of great memories, Grateful for the ways I was able to be home with these boys over the past decade, Awkward about what to say because I feel so much, and Surprise at how quickly it went when there were days that felt never-ending.  

The last first day of school has me feeling all the feelings and I am okay with it.  Those tears rolling down my cheeks are both joyful and sad. 

What I learned while Caleb was in preschool

Last August, we were at the beach on our family's final hurrah of summer.  One night, I decided to stay up late and go through emails.  I realized that I had not heard when Caleb's preschool would be starting.  I emailed the director and quickly was informed that despite registering him and paying the fee, they had given away his spot.  I was beside myself.

All summer, I had mentally planned for him to be in a 3 year old program at our local high school that would meet for 3 mornings a week for about 90 minutes.  I had loved the program when Aaron attended there and it felt like the right fit for letting my baby who was just barely 3 go.  So, when my plans were altered, I fell apart.  The only other preschool I could find with openings nearby was three days a week.  I cried and cried, I had never put any of the other boys in preschool at age 3 and none of them had done preschool more than two days a week. 

I had a breakthrough when my mom and best friend both told me the same thing.  It wasn't something that I didn't already know, it was just something I refused to believe as truth and live in.  They both told me that "each kid is different and that maybe 3 days a week was what Caleb needed" and that it was "okay to do things differently for him than I did for the other 3."

I couldn't figure out why I was so upset, then it finally clicked, I saw this as a failure.  I wasn't living up to the expectations that I had for myself about how to be the right kind of mom.  The image I had of doing this "mom gig" correctly involved me adding more children & responsibilities to my daily schedule but not increasing my childcare help in any capacity.  Letting go of that ridiculous standard was harder than I thought it would be.  That first day of preschool, Caleb walked in, cheerfully shouted "Goodbye mom" and ran into his class.  There was no hesitation on his part, not a single day this school year.  He was totally ready.  I was not.

That first week or two of having all 4 boys in school at the same time was strange.  All of a sudden after 8 years of always having at least 2 children with me, I suddenly found myself with 2.5 hours three times a week ON MY OWN.  It would be cooler to say that I did all sorts of incredible things with that time, but the majority of that time was spent doing everyday, ordinary things.  Things like eating lunch, running errands, meetings for my part-time job, catching up on emails, doing laundry, etc.  It was spent doing almost nothing spectacular, but along the way, I think I realized that I had been holding my breath for years.  I could have conversations without interruptions.  I could think without ignoring someone pleading for me to answer the same question for the thousandth time. 

I went into it kicking & screaming and came out grateful.  This past week, my almost-four-year-old stood in a park where his teacher gave him a 3 year old diploma at his year end picnic.  She gave him a big hug and teared up at saying goodbye.  I don't think this amazing woman has any idea how difficult it was to initially turn Caleb over to her for those 11 hours each week.  She made it so much easier by just loving on him.  For loving his amazing traits and his wild, three year old boy traits.  I'm not sure who learned more this last year during those 11 hours each week, Caleb or me.

Happy Birthday to My Little Sister!

27 years ago, I became a big sister to the cutest baby girl ever (I can still say that since all my own children are boys).  That day was the highlight of my childhood. Seriously.  I was 8.5 when my sister was born.  But to understand the joy of her birth, you must go back a few years.

Remember those school assignments in kindergarten and first grade where you draw a picture of what you could be if you could be anything in the world? Or the project to draw what you wanted most in the world (if money was not an issue).  The answer to those school projects was always the same for me.  I wanted a baby sister.  I wanted a baby sister in the WORST WAY.  Here is my "Dream Cloud" project from 1st Grade I think.

The front

The back side which shows me, a baby sister crying and what I assume is a teddy bear?

I talked about it.  I drew about it.  And I prayed about it.

It got to the point one day that my parents had to have a talk with me.  I don't remember the exact words, but it was something like this "Leslie, I'm sorry but I don't think you will be getting a baby sister."

Then one day when I was in 2nd grade, we had a family meeting where we found out that we would in fact be adding another Walmer to the family.  I just knew in my heart of hearts that it would be a girl.  I mean, I already had two older brothers what would be the point of any more brothers?  My mom continually warned me that it could be a boy (this was all pre-ultrasound technology) but I dismissed those warnings because I just knew it was a baby sister.

Natalie might be lacking in clothes, but clearly I was lacking teeth which is much worse.

I can remember clearly being called out of my 3rd grade classroom on that wintery December 15th in 1987.  My grandparents picked us kids up and drove us to the hospital.  We were in the waiting room.  My dad came out and announced it was a girl.  I did a cartwheel. Yep, a cartwheel in the waiting room and maybe some screaming.  My heart was overjoyed -- a sister at last! 

My heart has been filled with joy at having a sister so many times over these past 27 years.  So many fun memories over the years--trips, holidays, movies, music, lots of professional pictures and lots of matching clothes (but we'll save those pictures for another post). We have a decent-sized age gap between us (over 8 year) but she is still my best friend for life. 

In the last few years, we've shared more of life's adventures as she has gotten married and has a son.  Now we swap kid stories.  We've also added lots of miles between us (I'm in Illinois and she is in Delaware) but it doesn't matter.  She is still my sister.  She is still my best friend for life.  She is the first person that comes to mind when I see a sign that says "You had me at bacon."  She is the first person I text when I see a old musical on TV and think of the many times we watched it as kids.  She is the first person that comes to mind so often--with tv shows, jokes, music, memories.  I don't get to see her in person as much as I would like to these days, but I am so proud of the woman she has become.  She's a great friend, loving wife and wonderful mom.  She's hardworking, fun and beautiful. 

Happy 27th Natalie!  

I love you!  

Also, your birthday present hasn't been mailed yet (some things never change!)

Love,

"The Big One"

Family Pictures 2014

For several years now, I have asked for one gift each birthday: family pictures.  Now I'm not talking about JC Penney Portrait studio pictures.  There is nothing inherently wrong with studio pictures (we still do them most years for Christmas) but I want "real life" pictures not posed in front of a fake fireplace.  Also, I don't want to wait in a long line with 4 boys and I'm pretty sure no one else in that line wants us to wait in the line either--we are after all FOUR boys.  Besides, I'm looking for something different than studio pictures.  I want to see us.

I want pictures where we run around.

I want snapshots of what this stage of life is really like for our family.  I want the messy because oh my goodness is this stage messy!!!

I want to remember the sweetness of these young boys who are quick to give affection.

I want to remember the missing teeth.

I want to remember the dimples in the sunlight.

I want to remember climbing trees.

I want to remember the three weeks where I didn't have my wedding band, just my engagement ring, because a certain 3 year old hid it in the crevices of our couch.

I want to remember the hugs

that quickly turn into wrestling.

I want to remember the hand-holding.

I want to remember the embraces.

I want to remember the toddler on my hip.

I want to remember the laughter.

I want to remember the bittersweet emotions of sending this handsome one to Kindergarten.

I want to remember the seriousness of a second-grader who no longer needs my help when reading but is still willing to snuggle up and let me read to him.

I want to remember the climbing fences (well the boys climbing fences, not me).

I want to remember the love.

Because it was here.  Sometimes it was hidden in between fights or tantrums or tears, but it was always here.  After a season full of work (so much work!) & stress that moving across town involves, we needed an afternoon of play.  An afternoon of picking wildflowers and wrestling.

An afternoon of running down hills and being caught by daddy.

An afternoon of sitting in the grass and telling each other why we are still here and what makes each other a good parent.  An afternoon of singing the Veggie Tales theme song but replacing words to make it "Caleb Tales" and the smile it elicited. 

Sometimes it is easy for me to get bogged down by the daily failures and struggles that life provides and forget the adventure that I am on.  Then I take an afternoon "off" from it all to take family pictures.  I get the family pictures, but I ended up with something more.

I am reminded of all the good again and I see it easily when I focus on the right things.  The wild love.  The loudness. The sweetness.  The growing.  The messiness.  The adventure.  The grace.  I am reminded of the blessing to live this life with this crew of 5 men.  The blessing to share a story with this man.  I am grateful.

Thanks to Sarah Carter Studio for capturing our spirited family in these photos that I will treasure for years to come.

September 15th

Every September, my heart catches a little.  This is the time of year that I think of what would have been. What could have been.  Its been five years and I still have questions.  Was it a son or a daughter? Why was there no heartbeart where there had been one before?  Why a surprise pregnancy just to have it slip through my fingers several weeks later?

The physical pain is long gone.  The emotional pain is mostly past as well--but there is remembering.  There is remembering what was lost during that hard season.  There is the remembering--the quiet ultrasound, the tears, the hospital visit and the due date that never came to fruition.  There is remembering the person that I was before and who I am now, after.

A hard, hard season followed that D & C in February 2009.  A summer where my belly should have been growing was instead filled with me pushing my body to run to longer and longer distances.  In place of my baby's birth, I celebrated my due date with my first half-marathon.  At the time, I thought that if my body was going to fail me, then I would force it to do something hard--the hardest thing I could think of doing.

I remember those runs like they were yesterday.  Runs fueled by anger and disappointment with tears often close at bay.  Looking back, I realize that those runs were a huge part of my healing.  Everyone heals in their own time and their own way. For me, running

Last fall, I was sitting in church one day and during worship we began singing Matt Redman's song, Blessed Be Your Name.  During the song, the lyrics got to me and I found myself singing with tears in my eyes and remembering in my heart.  I was surprised that I really meant the words with my whole heart and even while remembering the loss. 

You give and take away
You give and take away
Still my heart will say
Lord, blessed be your name

Soaking up the moments

Since we had our twins first and then the rest of the boys pretty close in age, it has always been a special treat to have one-on-one time with any of the boys.  To have regular, weekly one-on-one time with Caleb has been a new thing for us this fall.  I'm not gonna lie, its delicious.  There are no quarrels to break up and no personal space being invaded (other than my own and generally I'm pretty good about not hitting people when they invade mine).

Three days a week, Caleb and I have the morning together, just the two of us.  I'm trying my best to soak this up and ignore the never-ending "to do" list that is calling my name.  There are still breakfast dishes to clean, two minute showers to be taken and laundry to be switched out.  But as much as possible, I'm snuggling up with him in our living room chair and reading through his favorite books.  Right now, he's on a Sandra Boynton streak.  So, we are reading Blue Hat, Green Hat and But Not The Hippopotamus like they're going out of style.  He giggles each time we say Oops.  He is wiggly and constantly elbowing me during our reading time, but its still precious to me.

Sometimes we pull out the alphabet legos and build the tallest towers we can.  And I do my best not to cringe when he knocks it down splattering legos EVERYWHERE on our hardwood floors.

Last week, we took a much anticipated trip to the library as a reward for having "gentle hands" the ENTIRE four hours of preschool (that's a whole different post).  For not being able to read, he did amazingly well at finding the only 2 veggietales books in the library, 4 veggietales cds and 2 veggietales movies.  Are you noticing a theme?  
On the way out and across the parking lot to the car, I was carrying him and each step I took, he would give me a light head bump or kiss on my neck.  It tickled, so I laughed.  The more I laughed, the louder his laughter got.  About halfway to the car, he got hiccups (this always happens when he laughs his deep belly laughs) but kept laughing.  The two of us giggled and giggled in the sunshine that afternoon.  I don't think I'll ever forget it. 

There is something just delicious about one-on-one moments with the people you love.  I'm really enjoying this new season of parenting where I'm able to do this more regularly.

Anticipating Kindergarten

For the last week, this sweet boy has been a bundle of nerves about the start of Kindergarten.  There is excitement--ordering his hot lunches, picking out a new shirt for the first day of school, dropping off school supplies.  But it doesn't take long for the fear to move in.  Fear that he won't have friends.  Fear that being shy means he won't succeed.  Fear that he might get teased.  Fear that he isn't enough.

I keep holding him and telling him the truth: You are enough.  You are loved.  Shy doesn't mean you can't succeed.  You have friends.  You are enough!

I look at this smile, this smile that so many love and I think "how can he think he won't make friends?"

I look at those sparkling blue eyes of laughter and mischief and I wonder how he doesn't know what I know? Why doesn't he know that he will do great?  Why doesn't he know that he has friends?  He will love school.  I just know it.  He will make even more friends than he already has.

I look at my boy who feels so deeply and sometimes wish that he didn't feel the fear so deeply.  I sometimes wish he didn't feel the sadness of upcoming changes but I don't get to choose how he is wired.  God did choose how Aaron was wired and he knew what he was doing.  He didn't make a mistake making this boy so sensitive and sweet.  This boy that feels fear also feels joy.  He loves without limits and he gives grace abundantly. 

I wonder how my six-year-old can let these voices in his head tell him that he's not good enough, not well-liked enough, not loveable.  Then I look at myself and I think about how many days have I told myself that I am not enough, that I am not loveable, that I am not a good enough mother, that I am not attractive enough and I know.  I know how he can do this because he listens to those other voices in his head and not God's truth.  I know because I'm thirty-give and I do this all the time--way more than I'd care to admit because I like to seem like I have it together.

Just like Aaron's creeps downstairs after bedtime telling me that he is having dreams about not having friends at school, I will tell a friend in my most honest moments that I don't feel like enough.  This friend will give me words: You are Enough, You are Loved, You have been Redeemed.  This friend will remind me, just like I remind Aaron. 

Change brings up so many emotions--excitement and fear.  One more day and then the anticipation process will be over and Kindergarten will have started and he will know in a tangible way what to expect.  Until then, I will keep holding him and whispering: You are loved, You are enough, You have been redeemed because it is true.