Mother's Day

"There are many virtuous and capable women in the world, but you surpass them all!" (Proverbs 31:29, NLT)

For the swollen feet, stretch marks, and other unpleasantries of bearing a human being in the cradle of your your body, for the sweat, pain, and recovery of episiotomies or cesareans while releasing that child from your womb, for the raw nipples, 4 am feedings, slurred lullabies whispered over fuzzy little heads, for remembering to pack diapers, binkies, wipes, burp-cloths, snacks, the pump or bottles, and the tippee cup on every outing, for changing your clothes with grace when stained with spit-up, for all those gag-inducing poopy diapers, or rage-inducing colicky nights, for the tears you wept adjusting, and the tears you wept in unspeakable joy, for the countless boo-boos you swabbed, bandaged and kissed, for repairing that favorite toy, and stealthily tossing the unrepairable ones, for playing the dropsy game ad nauseum, for making peanut butter and jelly or mac and cheese in your sleep, for playing taxi to all the summer camps, softball games, swim lessons, piano recitals, for the beloved heirloom damaged or destroyed, for all the "don't spit in your brother's face!" and "stop pulling your sister's hair!" and "stay in bed!" moments, for installing carseats, loading up strollers, and assembling and dissembling portable cribs in small spaces, for the first steps and first bike ride without your guiding hand, for the sticky stuff on the floors, the stains on the carpet, and smears on the windows, for the Mt Everest piles of laundry, for playing Tea Party or Legos or Uno with a tired smile, for planning birthday parties, sneaking Christmas gifts, and hiding Easter eggs, for all the spaghetti dinner messes, for asking "where are you going?" and "what time will you be home?", for saying "this will hurt me a whole lot more than it will hurt you" and mean it, for the uncomfortable conversations had with teachers or parents involving "really, my child did that?", for brave play dates in the rain, snow, or sweltering sunshine, for all the thankless, unnoticed, glorious, bloody, sweaty, marvelous moments that make you a stronger woman now than you were before you embraced that small body, and clung to it as if a buoy on choppy waters, because in that moment you realized how fragile life is, and that bond is something supernatural, life-sustaining, and galvanizing.  You're a mother.  You're strong, and beautiful, and graceful.  You sacrifice gladly, and pray more than you speak.  You're a warrior and an angel.  You're Mom, Mommy, Mama. 

God bless you, Mom, today and everyday in this, the greatest, most challenging and beloved journey, mothering.

Coming to the Surface

The past month has been obscenely hectic.  We had a St. Patrick's Day dinner with friends and Tia Kissie.  We hosted Easter at our house and the next day housed family from California.  And we visited the lower valley to  place Aaron's beloved Grandma Bea beside her loving husband, Grandpa Joe.  We helped my sister in law celebrate her 40th birthday in Tumwater, too.  To top it off the month has been peppered with bouts of the flu and this week, a cold.  And there has been no semblance of routine or normalcy since before Christmas.  To say it's been exhausting would be a cute misnomer.

We're completely bonkers at this point.  Clinical.  And for my part, I'm ready to check into a respectable institution for the mentally unstable primarily because the idea of someone else preparing my meals is enchantingly alluring.  It's been an endurance race like nothing I've ever gone through before, and there's no way to know when it will end.  Or if it even will end.

I usually start with Andres, as he's the first born, but I feel like I'll start with Raph today.  We planted a garden in a little tub on our patio with a baby sugar snap, a mint and a sweet basil starter.  I discovered that Raphael is an avid gardener!  He loves to water the "babies," as he calls them, and uses a tiny plastic watering can with fervor.  I've started to bake with him on Thursdays when Andres is at school all day long (the longest day of the week) and have tried to really appreciate the one-on-one time we have together.  Last week we played soccer at the park, made a new lemon cookie recipe together, and cuddled up to read books together on the sofa.  It was a chilly day with low gray clouds, so snuggling up with some good picture books, warm lemon cookies and hot blueberry tea was ideal.  This week has been sunny and warm, so it actually felt like spring.  Our cookie this week was suiting for the sunshine, and we made Fresh Strawberry Shortcake Cookies, a fun new recipe I found on Pinterest.  Raph helped cut the strawberries, and did a wonderful job.  They turned out super good, just like strawberry shortcake in a cookie!  I had a half a lemon left over from the recipe, and feeling like spring as it was, I squeezed more lemons to make my first batch of homemade lemonade.  I have to say, there is really nothing like it.  It was dee-lish.  So after our traditional Thursday meal of Totinos pizza for lunch, we enjoyed our scrumptious strawberry cookies with cold lemonade out on the picnic table. His language is coming along, and I'm loving learning about his manner and perspective.

After a year of hard work, Andres has finally graduated into the next level at swim practice.  This is the child who just last year screamed bloody murder when his face was wet.  He's now bobbing along, jumping in, and even doing back floats.  I'm proud of his work, but really excited that he's had his first real taste of pay-off, and the sensation that success brings when one overcomes something they don't like, something they don't want to do (yes there were some tears about going to swim practice, but now he loves it!), or something they are afraid to do--and swimming was all three for him.  This bolstered his confidence and I felt I had better strike while the iron was hot and get him into a piano lesson, as Aaron and I had been talking about the need for that, since we feel being musically literate is important in gaining skills overlapping in other areas of life.  Following my musician husband's lead, agreeing with him that piano is a really good foundational instrument, and that when Andres is 10 years old he can choose his own instrument.  We're so blessed to be able to have private lessons from a veteran teacher who not only had two boys herself (hence, she gets the creature of a boy), but she's also the mother of our dear friends from church, the Votrobecks.  She's been around Andres since he was tiny.  After two weeks of piano, I've seen him really focus and yes, although he can get a little distracted or squirrly, he practices well, and seems to enjoy playing.  When we practice on the old upright in the garage before bathtime, he'll point to the accompaniment at the bottom and say "you play that part when I play my part, Mom."  Poor kid.  I never learned how to play piano, only tenor sax in high school jazz band, and can't play that lovely accompaniment to duet with him.  Perhaps when Aaron's not doing homework or at class, he can duet with him.  But he feels really proud of his little Tick Tock song that he's working on, and I am learning with him.  I've also signed him up for a theater camp this summer, and an animated movie production class in Portland because this IS Andres, after all.  Speilberg, remember?  He's hankering for a taikwondo class, but seriously, I'm feeling like, no thanks, we're good right now.  Plus those martial arts classes like to meet twice a week, and that's too much for us at this stage.  Maybe next year.  We'll see.

I feel like we've arrived at this busy season of parenting, and life in other areas--like professional areas- is still adolescent.  I'm a failed middle school teacher unemployed, and Aaron's a staff accountant/college kid.  Yeah, it feels like that.  College.  We rent, we're constantly broke, our furniture is the same stuff we had in the dorms, and we cram for finals.  College, but with kids in the mix to keep us mildly insane on our toes.

On the side I've written a screenplay, and have started making friends and connections deep in the writing community in Portland.  I find that I really have a gift of storytelling, and others have been so encouraging, most loudly, my dear husband.  But my script's turning the heads from folks within the movie industry has been exhilarating  albeit a bit scary, and in classic Andria form, I have backed way down from writing just as it was getting hot.  The writing world can be dark, and Hollywood requires a sacrifice (of time, character, morals, etc. ...pick your poison).   I'm not wholly sure I'm ready for that, whatever it may be, but I know when I feel it's right I'll return to it.

Now I've also been dabbling in graphic design, having been asked to create a logo for a new 5k race our church is organizing to support our missions funds.  THAT has been a huge gift, a really wonderful experience in which I've learned a ton.  And Aaron encouraged me to save my paychecks from work to  purchase a graphic artist tablet...something that I've been lusting after for at least four years.  The caveat is that this will become a tool for me to build my ESTY shop, and open for business in August, fingers crossed.  I got the tablet in the mail two days ago and was ready to get to work, but Jumping Josepher!  It's a lot to learn!  These graphic programs are expansive and powerful, and I've just only scraped the first crusty layer of frost on the ice burg.

Aaron is rocking the casba at PSU and has stellar grades.  He's been offered several opportunities to apply for fellowships, and those offers came on the cusp of hearing from UW that he was not accepted this year into the masters of musicology program up there.  Honestly, it's a blessing.  It would have been so confusing.  He's nearly done with his masters here, and uproot midway like this would have meant all his classes would have to be retaken up in Seattle, and more loans.  So, Plan B: finish the MSM at PSU, then apply for the PhD at both UW and UO.  What that man juggles, between working full time, family full time, and grad school part time, is an amazing feat.  He handles it all with such grace and discipline, inspiring for me to witness, and I'm unspeakably proud of him.

That's been our last five weeks or so, and I'm just now, sick with a cold and all, finally coming to the surface.

Pep Talk

It's been a brutal, brutal week.  I really needed this pep talk from Kid President.  Maybe you do too.  Watch and feel inspired, refreshed, and ready to be awesome today.

Words

Today, just now when I opened the boys' door at 6:45 to greet them for the day, Raph came to me and wrapped his arms around my neck.  His language has been much delayed, having about 30 words at age three, far from textbook.  But I haven't worried about it, being a language acquisition scholar, I knew it would unfold when Raph's synapsis were ready.   And now it's happened, the language mechanism in his brain has flickered on, and his vocabulary has suddenly exploded.  Words he's never practiced, or ever muttered, are daily being added to his list.

But this dim morning in the dawnlight, as his small arms linked around my neck, I nearly wept when I heard his warm, heavy morning voice whisper in my ear:  "I wuv you, Mommy."

Eavesdropping

"A long time ago," you start.

I hear you, dearest, as I'm at the stove stirring the veggies in the pan, chopping broccoli, washing dishes.  Your voice comes to me through the soft Reggae music, and I can tell by the silence in the other room that you have captivated them, you have their undivided attention.  From my place as the kitchen counter, I imagine them leaning into your storyteller voice, their brown eyes round, mouths slightly open, pinned to every word.

"And if she looked at someone they would turn to stone."  I pause and tilt my head to hear you, too.  You're storytelling is only missing a camp fire, and flickering shadows.  Do you know how powerful your gift for storytelling is?

"But then, this one guy name Perseus, he loved Andromeda, who was supposed to sacrificed to a sea monster, and he decided he would rescue her..."

I wonder if you notice, at this part of your tale to our children, that it's in some ways our story.  Was my life to be a pointless sacrifice before you rescued me along your hero's journey?  It's our love story embedded in your voice, as our boys lean into you as I always have.

You are a remarkable man, dearest.  Our sons are profoundly blessed by you, and we all gather around you, listening, reveling, in the wonder you are.

Inspiring

This 13 year old boy's testimony on TEDx moved me to wonder:  what am I doing for my children's education?  Preparing them for a career, or preparing them for life?  I have a lot to learn, and a lot to let go.

Accomplishing Dreams

Indulging a moment of pride for one of my former students, and now, friend.  Minseon came from Korea an 8th grader in my ESL class years ago, and I tutored English for years privately at her home throughout her high school years.  Here is a link to an article on her featured in the Columbian in 2010, a piece I read over and over, most lovingly.  Now, she's well on her way at Whitman.  Hear her incredible talent and hard work as the flute solist at 19:27.  Congrats, dear friend.  The sweat and strain were worth it.