Soaring and Stillness: Life with the Chickadees

Last night, something miraculous occurred. The phone rang. I answered. In the scope of the everyday ordinary it doesn’t sound like much, the act of seeing a call and accepting it instead of sending it to voicemail. She didn’t want to do anything but talk. Have conversation. Fellowship with me over cellular airwaves.  I answered because outside of immediate family, hers is the number set to bypass do not disturb. The phone knows that outside of regular hours, I’ve let her in.  I think she knows it too. She didn’t call for anything in particular; she was on her way home with an occupied babe in the backseat and had an hour.  She called me. I answered. We talked for the remainder of her trip. The big chick and the professor tried to find a movie to watch and wandered in wondering where I was and when I was coming back. Her little bit was occupied in the car seat and didn’t make a peep. I told them to go ahead without me. She let the golden haired angel watch the coveted tabl...

Motherhood. It's surprising and joyous and painful all at once. It stretches you to elastigirl lengths. Mostly in your heart where no one else can see the bending and twisting that occurs as one comes to grips with the raising of these small (that become big) humans. To My Dearest Chickadees, I've watched you this year, my loves, leaping and soaring and standing precariously close to the edges of cliffs, both physical and metaphorical. I've watched you journey, with abandon. You're both so very very brave and strong and beautiful and kind. I'm not just saying this because I'm your momma and I have to, I'm saying it because truth words deserve to be spoken. I speak truth. Grace Girl, we've had such a year of firsts and lasts. So many, in fact, that I'm downright worn out. I've heard teenagers do that to a soul. But despite it all you are so worth the loving. Worth every second of it. Remember the days when you were smaller than me? Now I...

( sometimes it's best to hold hands and keep on keeping on) It's Thursday, and the social media sites I frequent all feature various videos and photos with a # and the letters TBT. Throw back Thursday . A day to reminisce and recall a previous sweetness. Not a bad concept in a culture always set on moving full throttle toward something new. Most Thursdays I enjoy looking at old videos of dance routines or of my friends as smallish people. Not today. Today I would love for it to be "Do over Thursday." If I was being honest, I think I'd prefer for it to be "do over" week. That would make it do over month...at that rate let's make it do over year. I need a do over . One with more energy and patience and less tears. A day ( or week or month ) filled with waking up feeling rested and capable and like I'm not failing at something. I'm not whining or down in the dumps, I'm just keeping it real. Raising and homeschooling g...

One spot to another, always in flight. These chicks keep me on my toes. Lately, we've done quite a bit of travel with dance. The professor is busy with work and so the legs he was helping with driving have fallen to me. It means a whole lot more time away from the nest. Today, we left at noon and will arrive home sometime after 9:30 p.m.  LONG Long for them and for me. Driving to our distance ballet, taking Little Bit to the library to finish up schooling and then trekking to the other studio for assisting and classes for both of them all night. I sit bundled in my jacket and her scarf, earbuds in and the girls doing jetes in the other room.  Classes change. My sweet babe moves into her company hour with a sharp jazz routine and the Grace Girl works on changing a solo from pointe to ballet, just in case the pointe component is not ready for another competition in two weeks. I think it will be, but she's not sure...always the perfectionist in her dancing, she...

"I've decided." "You've decided what?" "I've decided what I'd like to be when I'm older." I knew this would be good, but nothing could have prepared  me for what came next. "I'm going to be Einstein. Or, you know, maybe Sally Ride." "Albert Einstein?" I managed to say, the smile showing only in my eyes. "Yep. But without the hair. He had CRAZY hair." She was serious. This wisp of a seven year old had plans. Apparently big ones. "You know what Einstein did, right?" Her father asked gently. I was so proud of him. If I'd been driving we may have been off the road at this point. His grin huge, all but hidden from her view by the angle of the seat. "Well, you do love school. You have to love it, a lot, if you want to be the next Einstein...You may be able to do it...", his voice trailing off as he shrugged his shoulders and smiled at me. I was also proud of the Grac...

Tuesdays around the nest have done a one-eighty this month. It's more than a little bit of crazy that our "off" day    you know the kind, the day  where you don't have to leave the house for any outside activity has become perhaps the most filled day of the week. I want to follow that with an UGH  and a drawn our sigh, but the chickadees enjoy flight, so I'll be kind and refrain. I have, however, come up with some alliterative terms that go with our Tuesday schedule.  They include: Topsy-Turvy Turbulent Tiring Today has gone from being our long schooling day to one where we start in the darkness. Instead of lunch at the normal hour, I pack the babes into the car and drive to one of the studios where the Grace Girl is putting in the hours to make her dreams a reality. The prof will pick her up when he's done with work roughly five hours after I've dropped her off  and tonight she'll head home to finish reading Homer's  The...

She walked out bundled, braided, carrying a peanut butter sandwich and applesauce just in case she did not prefer the dinner available at the farm. One quick kiss, a reminder to stay with the group as they explored the maze. A bus ride of over an hour...on the big yellow tank she used to take to and from school each day before we made the move to homeschooling.  Her exclamation priceless as she was dropped off, "Look! Number 227...I rode it  every day. What are the odds?" Flutters in my stomach as I let her fly Random texts arrived throughout the hours she was away with sparse details. The lack of communication showing, more than anything else, that fellowship and laughter were plentiful in the dark, crisp  see your breath  air of this  late October nigh. Time alone with my little, rare in years past, is becoming plentiful. My grace girl is growing up. A text that the bus is exiting the freeway her little sister long since put to bed  and ...

Today I took the time to gently lift her into my arms and sway around the kitchen.  Laying aside all of the I have to's   and instead looking her in the eyes and noticing the lonely. Wondering if my eyes look the same I stopped cleaning up dinner and unloading the dishwasher and pulling out the vitamin regiment for the 'morrow. I started listening to the quiet of her heart.  The place that was calling out for more of me in the regular moments. Scrolling through the music on the phone, I found her song. The one I've sang to her since her NICU days. Choosing it carefully, pushing play, watching the wonder in her eyes. She  did not realize it was on our devices. Wonder replacing lonely My little is still small enough to fit on my hip, even at seven. I tell her it's God's gift to me, being able to tote her when she gets tired or hurt or just plain lonely . Growing up isn't easy. Neither is being grown up. Knowing this, I hold her tighter and we glide aroun...

Wired. I'm wired. Purposed. Planned. I believe that what we're wired for is where we excel. I've come to believe that sometimes we're purposed for some things for a period and others for a lifetime. As a child, I was a nerd. Honest to goodness, teacher had to come and touch my shoulder to get my attention while I was reading kind of nerd. Bookish. Quiet. I excelled in school. I was a decent big sister, the kind who always looked out for her little brother, the one who brought him along to friends homes and played Barbie meets GI Joe/Transformers/ Skeletor as his whim dictated; I used constructs more than my Strawberry Shortcake dolls. I also once fed him a dandelion, but that's another story. I excelled. As a teen, I was still completely type A when it came to school. However, I found that a great group of church friends makes a girl bloom, the gift for which I will forever be thankful. I played soccer, ran track, sang in the church and school choirs, took up dance...