He Goes To Kindergarten

"The baby grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was...." almost five years old. And he begged his mom to wear his church shoes to his first day of Kindergarten because he wanted to "be fancy". And he stood there in long pants of dark blue corduroy, a white polo already bearing the mark of a morning's granola bar, gray dress socks, and black leather shoes waiting just long enough to tolerate pictures with his mother's cell phone. And it was all she could do to hold it together in a maze of parents and excited children, even though she wanted to scream from the rooftops, "This is my son. My baby. He is special because I say so. And listen up world... you will not harm him, and you will be kind to him!" Then in a flash, that boy, ran off toward a table of Lego’s, and never looked back. (And the subtle humor of that moment was not lost on his engineer-mother, for she saw herself in him.)

And even though this was not the first morning she had said good-bye to him, it was a significant morning. The baby she had waited for, fought for, and prayed for, who had miraculously appeared via a phone call on an average Monday (literally by special delivery from God, Himself) ... who had turned her life, her house, and her heart upside down ... was no longer a dream. He was hers. He was a boy who would someday be a young man, who would someday leave her. And she would have to trust him to the world and to the Lord. Trust him to be safe and good and kind and righteous ... trust him to be whom she saw that very first day she held him in her arms.

And when that almost five year old was safely at school, she opened the door to her car, sat down, and she cried. She cried and she cried and she cried. And somewhere, she found the strength to let him grow.

(The quote and inspiration are from Love You Forever written by Robert Munsch with illustrations by Sheila McGraw.)

Yard Quote

Again, in the yard, as a family (with an almost 14 month-old, and a 4.5 year old) ... and it is getting hotter by the  minute:

Son: "I'm tired of helping."
Dad: "Yep, I am too.  I'm tired of helping you brush your teeth."
Mom: "Yep, and tie your shoes.  And wash and fold your clothes."
Dad: "And make you dinner."
Son: "I didn't wear those shoes today."
Mom: "We're talking about every other day when you go to school.  We're tired of helping."
Son: "But that's your JOB."
(Like I don't have other things I want to do with my life?????)
Dad, without missing a beat: "And its your job to be a member of this family and help us in the yard."

(GOSH!  This is classic, isn't it!!!)

Satisfaction @ Work

Satisfaction is when a senior colleague truly listens to what you have to say, and when you realize that the previous time you spent forming and editing your argument has not been wasted.

Satisfaction is when a junior colleague listens to the task, and voluntarily reports back on their status.

Satisfaction is when you receive an e-mail telling you how much you are appreciated for the quality work you are doing, especially when the previous day was oh, so bad.

Satisfaction is when other people are excited to help you plan and execute your career path.

Satisfaction is when your boss backs you up on your ideas.

Satisfaction is a day well spent.

Satisfaction is when its so bad (and yet the same as always), your only recourse is to laugh a deep, long laugh until tears squeeze out of your eyelids.  (Then you remind yourself, "this too shall pass".)

Satisfaction is when your team leads provide their weekly reports, and thankfully, you already know most of it.

Satisfaction is when a colleague seizes the career growth opportunity you are providing, and runs with it.

Satisfaction is when you declare you are waving the "manager flag" and you say we "have to" even if we don't "want to", and your team still goes with you.

If I Owned a Gas Station ...

If I owned a gas station, I would own two.  The two stations would have different names, and look completely different.  I would place the stations on opposite corners of the same four way intersection.  I would price the gas at one station at least 8 cents per gallon more expensive than the other.  This accomplishes a couple of things.

1. Drivers would stop at the cheaper station and not drive on to another intersection or freeway exit.  By comparing the two available stations, they can feel they have adequately comparison shopped and found the cheaper station.  They can feel peace as they buy gas from the cheaper station.
2. The business losses on the more expensive gas station could be claimed on my tax return, thus offsetting the increased taxes for the increased profit on the other station.

........ Yep, I have too much time to think when there's no traffic driving home.

Mom Tip: Washing a Car Seat

The only setting for washing a car seat is deep clean sanitize (hottest water possible), heaviest soil, maximum spin.  Yep, two hours in the washer should kill anything.  Include anything you can possibly remove from the seat without breaking it.  And just because she's a cute little girl with no "dirt" or chocolate on her car seat does NOT mean there isn't dried milk/formula lurking underneath.  Glad I'm washing them both.

Soak the buckles in the hot soapy water in the sink for 30 minutes.  Scrub with an abrasive sponge.

Vacuum the base.  Now that its safe to carry over carpet, carry base to bathroom tub.  Use a high pressure shower head setting with hot water to power wash the base.  Now that its okay to touch with both hands, use a table knife to scrape the melted crayons out of the pockets or "cubbies".  Rinse with the shower head.

Then spend another hour remembering how to put the thing back together.

Put child back in car seat next morning, ready for them to spill yogurt, milk, punch, or whatever they decide is most appropriate that day.

This should be done at least every 6 months, if not more often.

Memorial Day: Thank You for Your Service

We drove today, returning from Granny & Grandpa's to our home.  We bought gas, fast food, and ice cream.  We drove without being stopped to have our papers investigated, without passports, government approvals, or visas.  We used a small amount of cash to take our children hours away to see their grandparents without fear or despair.  We travelled at our pace and schedule.  Walking the kids when we stopped, playing Simon Says -- the prize, if Mommy lost, was ice cream for everyone, "mooing" at the cows along the way, and pointing out the American classic cars to our son.

We enjoyed our freedom today.  Our ability to go or stop as we please, to vacation even when money is tight, to enjoy our lives and our children in the sunshine of the day.

So, if you are a veteran or volunteer, whether you served overseas or state-side, thank you.  Thank you for your service.  For granting my little family this beautiful day free of fear and concern.

Working in the Yard

I have these wonderful childhood memories of working in the yard side-by-side with my parents.  Weeding was never fun, but I remember having fun being outside together in the fresh air.

Now that I have a 4 year old, I realized this weekend that "working side-by-side" is really just a euphemism for parents working until they are exhausted while their children play nearby.  ;)

Mom: "Can you pick up that stick I dropped?"
Kid has one of three answers:

1. (silence) .... "Hey, its a rolly-polly bug!"
2. "Yeah sure, Mom." (five minutes later stick is still in the way)
3. "Yeah sure, Mom." "Hey Mom, look its a sword!" (swish, swish, swish)

What gave me the impression that I was actually useful in the yard below the age of 16?  That's when I realized I should let it go.  As long as he wasn't getting hurt, he could "help" nearby all he wanted.

And no child, you can't use the man-sized lopers.  And no, you can't use the small ones either.  No one is losing a finger today.