Month: March 2016

Late Night Parenting

Spring break has somehow transformed into taking our kids out-of-town into visiting our kids who live out-of-town. I’m not a fan of this drastic switch up. But, nobody asked me if they were allowed to grow up, so, if we want to see our son, a twelve-hour road trip is required.

noticing icharusFacebook informed me that this guy who used to live with us and was born from my body, was now the drummer in a band. We have gone from sharing nutrients via umbilical cord to communicating via social media. This is the way of life.

His band was performing live for the first time during our spring break, so we rented a cabin near campus and attended his concert with the enthusiasm of groupies. We may have embarrassed him with our screaming, but, if we did, we will consider it payback for the time he threw up at Target.

While we were visiting Josiah, Drake, who had to stay home due to his school’s wacky break scArrow and Drake ice creamhedule, was keeping a picture log of his daily activities. His time alone included a lot of wrestling with our dogs and taking them to get ice cream cones, which they ate too fast to snap an action photo. He tackled the task of grocery shopping and bought only the necessities: a gallon of milk and a twelve pack of Mountain Dew. Should I worry about this kid?

As we began our twelve-hour journey back home, I thought about Josiah’s shirts. I had never seen some of them. And I thought about his close friends. I had never met some of them.

How is it possible to still feel worn out from scrubbing grass stains, midnight proof reading, middle of the night fevers and late night ironing when I don’t even recognize all of my son’s shirts anymore?

As I navigate this new stage of parenting, which feels a lot like a growing pain, I’m thankful for the late night phone calls from Makenna and Josiah. I love laughing way past bedtime with Drake, and I’m honored to answer Emery’s tough questions and discuss her complex thoughts until the deep hours of the night.

A fair share of parenting seems to take place in the middle of the night. I guess that’s why I still feel worn out.

 

Plowed Shoes

“Pray for us. We are walking.” I read the text and immediately felt my heart jump into overdrive. My husband was on a road trip with his good friend, Ryan, when a blizzard rolled through. Believing his Jeep was impervious to blizzard conditions, the guys decided to navigate the country roads. However, the drifts of snow were not as soft as they looked, and they found themselves hopelessly stuck. The sun was about to set, and spending the night in the freezing Jeep didn’t seem like a wise idea. So, they walked in blinding conditions and 50 MPH winds to shelter.

“Wow!” I said the next day when he returned home. “I am so glad to see you!”

“It was a little scary, but I’m no worse off. Except I lost my new shoes.”

“How did you lose your shoes? Weren’t you wearing them?”

“No, they were in the back of the Jeep, but, when we got stuck, I must have taken them out of the Jeep and put them on the snow to unload the shovels. Then, they must have gotten covered with snow, so I didn’t see them to put them back in the Jeep before we walked in the blizzard.”

One month later the guys were on another road trip to the same area, and Ryan’s wife, Charity, and I tagged along. The guys were reliving the blizzard and filling Charity and I in on details we missed in the previous tellings.

“This is the road we got stuck on,” Mike said as he turned the car down a country road. “And this is where we stayed the night.”

“And we also got stuck further down the road,” Ryan pointed as we drove in that direction.

snowplowed shoes“Hey!” Mike said, “I think I see one of my shoes!”

“No way,” I said. “It’s been a whole month.”

He stopped the car and ran toward a shoe on the side of the road. “It is mine!”

“And there’s the other one!” I said through the window. “In the corn!”

“One of them looks perfect,” Mike held up the pair of shoes for us to see as he returned to the car.

“The other one looks like it was caught under the plow.”

“Just like I like them,” Mike said. “Partially plowed.”

 

 

Acquisition of Memories

“100.7,” I said, rummaging through the pile of blankets covering my husband so he could enjoy his turn with the thermometer. “My fever is almost gone.”

“What day is it?” he mumbled around the plastic stick which was clearly not under his tongue.

“It’s a middle day,” I said grabbing the beeping stick and resuming my station next to him on the couch. “102.5. But it’s actually probably higher since you were talking while it was reading your fever.”

“Middle day?”

“Yeah,” I nodded and then immediately regretted the reckless motion. “One of the days in the middle of the week.”

“If it is Wednesday, we’ve lived in this house one month today.”

“Oh yeah,” I said with my eyes shut against the bright light that made my eyes water. “That means Makenna has been married twenty days.”

“Which also means we’ve had a puppy for twenty days,” Mike shivered as he spoke and I turned the electric blanket to a higher setting.

“And my grandpa died twenty days ago. It still doesn’t seem real.”

“Was his funeral before or after Costa Rica?”

“I think before,” I answered, searching in my groggy brain for the answer. “Oh, yeah, it was before. We’ve only been home from Costa Rica for three or four days.”

champagne toast“You know how the business of life is the acquisition of memories because in the end that’s all there is?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, in that respect, I’d say this was a successful month.”

“We are the very picture of success,” I mumbled as I drifted off to sleep using my Kleenex box as a pillow. A decision I wholeheartedly regretted later.