in honor of Thanksgiving

A couple of years ago, when the Kindergartner was a preschooler, he started asking questions about Thanksgiving. No doubt, they were talking about the holiday at preschool, and he wondered how we planned to celebrate.

"Will we get a turkey?" He asked.
"Yes." I told him.
"We will?" He asked again.
"Of course," I said.

We must have had this conversation a dozen times in the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving. Finally, shopping day arrived and I should have suspected something when he jumped in the van without complaint to go to the grocery store. (He hates grocery shopping.)

We got to the meat department, and I said, "Okay, buddy! It's finally time to pick our turkey!"

He looked at the mound of frozen turkeys and exclaimed, "But, Mom! These turkeys are all DEAD!

Needless to say, he didn't eat any turkey that Thanksgiving.

awkward silence

I’ve been quiet for so long on this blog, it feels strange to say anything at all.

Hey. It’s me. I’m still alive over here, busily raising three boys and wearing any number of other hats: writer, friend, editor, wife, mother, cook, housekeeper. Should I keep going?

But you’re busy too, no doubt. Everyone I meet seems to have a couple of lives going.

I’ve been thinking about this space and how I want to fill it, or even, if I should fill it. I still don’t have any concrete answers, but I’m breaking the silence anyway. I’m not going to try to find my writing identity with this blog, instead, I’m just going to keep doing what I love to do: tell stories.

Yesterday, my Kindergartener (can you believe my baby is 5?) asked me a deep theological question on the way home from school: “Mom, why did God even make such a thing as barf?”

So, yeah. Marketing be damned. (I don’t even know if I’m allowed to say that word on this here, but there it is. If I disappear, you’ll know why.) You can expect the same high quality material you’ve come to expect from the Llama Momma. Because that’s the way I roll.

giving things up for lint

"Did you ask your friend what he might like for his birthday?" I ask Twin A. as he munches a bagel after soccer practice.

"Yes. I think he'd really like some new football cards." He says.

"Doesn't he have a pretty big collection already?"

"Well, yeah. But he said he had to give them up for lint."

Keep it Simple Sister

Christmas.

It’s coming.

And I feel compelled to break the silence on this blog to share a few thoughts. Jill Savaage had a great post this morning on simplifying the holiday season, and I wholeheartedly agree.

All around me, women have that glazed expression that will only get worse as the holidays get nearer and they get more and more exhausted. Because, as women, we are the Keepers of the Christmas Magic. We tuck children into bed and our real work begins—making the holiday special for everyone around us.

I believe this is a noble task. I also believe we can make things simpler for ourselves by adjusting our expectations. I’ve written about this before, but each year I remember the days I spent in the hospital on bedrest while expecting the twins—from the day before Thanksgiving until the day after New Year’s. The entire holiday season was spent in and out of active labor, and you know what? It didn’t matter that I didn’t send a single Christmas card, put out a single decoration, or purchase a single Christmas gift. All that mattered to me was that my little family was safe and together. Truly.

The rest of it? It’s optional.

Let that free you, my friend. Do you dread sending Christmas cards? Don’t. Find another way to keep in touch with faraway friends. Hate buying so many presents? Ask people if they still want to exchange gifts. In this economic climate, people are happy to cross someone off of their gift list.

And the most important piece of advice I can give you, mother-of-young-children-I’m-talking-to-you: keep your kids’ expectations reasonable. Don’t go overboard. Young children enjoy gifts more when there are fewer of them. If your kids are older, it may be hard to backtrack; but if they’re little, resist the urge to overindulge them. You will thank me when they’re thirteen and don’t expect Santa to show up with a thousand dollars worth of goods.

So, without further ado, here’s my personal Holiday Survival Guide, in no particular order:

Make a master list for gifts. Include everyone you buy a gift for—teachers, coaches, family, children—everyone. Then brainstorm. Set a budget. As you buy gifts, cross it off the list. Start this today. Just do it. All those little details running through your head? Write them down.

Decide as a family how to spend your time. Do you enjoy going to lots of parties? If the answer is no, it’s okay to say, “not this year.” But maybe you’ve always wanted to have a holiday gathering, but never seem to have time. If that’s the case, make it a priority. Put the date on your calendar and do it. My point is, don’t just let December pull you under—take control of your calendar.

Spend time with friends. Take coffee breaks, make playdates, and enjoy the people you’re living life with. Incorporate friends into holiday activities like baking, cookie decorating, and even putting up the Christmas tree.

Incorporate spiritual disciplines. Don’t neglect your spiritual life because of busyness. Find time to pray, meditate, and reach out to others. After all, Jesus kind of is the point. Remember that. It will put the rest of the holiday into perspective.

Shop online. Seriously. The deals are fantastic and many places offer free shipping. If you know what you want, why drag everyone out to the mall to get it? I’ll never forget when the preschooler was younger and we walked into Kohls at Christmastime. His eyes got big and he asked, “Is THIS the mall?” So, thereyougo. Obviously shopping with the kids isn’t on my to-do list very often!

Plan meals. If I know I’m going to spend the day baking or shopping, I plan a very simple dinner. Sometimes this dinner even involves frozen food from Trader Joes. And, no, I don’t have any pride left. But I do get adequate rest.

Make your family a priority. If you’re screaming at everyone to get in line and have fun because, goshdarnit, it’s Christmas and this-is-supposed-to-be-fun, well, you’re missing the point. Chill out and go with the flow. Throw the kids in the car in their jammies and go through the drive-thru at the donut shop and just drive around, looking at lights. Enjoy the people you live with. If your traditions are turning you into a screaming shrew, maybe you need to rethink your traditions. (Or get therapy. But that’s another post.)

I know Christmas gets crazy, but we don’t have to go crazy to enjoy it!

missing life

“No. I don’t want to,” the preschooler said, shaking his head.

“But doesn’t it look like fun?” I asked, pointing to stack of canoes.

He shrugged his shoulders and looked down. He didn’t want to put on a life vest and climb into that canoe.

I assured him it was okay that he didn't want to go, and sent Llama Papa and the noisy boys off in canoes with my Aunt and Uncle. The preschooler and I walked back to the boathouse, and I asked one more time.

“Why don’t you want to try the canoe?”

“Well, it’s too long.”

“We don’t have to go for a long ride. We could just paddle over to the dock. Wanna try it?”

“No. I don’t have my swimsuit on.”

“Oh, that’s okay. We won’t get wet. We’ll stay dry in the boat.”

“Then why do we need to wear those vests?”

“Those are just-in-case vests. Sometimes the boat tips over by accident and we wear the vests to stay safe. But most of the time, almost all of the time, you stay perfectly dry in the boat.”

“Oh. Well. Oh. Okay. I changed my mind. I want to try it.”

We flagged down Llama Papa’s canoe as it headed around a corner, and climbed in. The preschooler grinned as he sat down. We paddled around Stoney Lake, swapping stories with our family in the other canoe and racing toward a mama swan and her babies. We enjoyed the fresh air and sun and time together floating around. The preschooler loved it.

And to think he almost missed it.

Fear holds us back sometimes without us even noticing it. We don’t have the words to describe it, but it’s there. And sometimes we just need someone to ask us the right questions so we can move forward. Life is short. Too short to be held back by insecurity and fear.

Surround yourself with people who ask good questions. People who listen. People who encourage you to try new things and be your best self.

You’ll be glad you did.

how to host a water balloon fight

I love having fun. And nothing says fun like a water balloon fight.

I know, I know. The mess. The trouble. The work. But stay with me for a minute. I don’t know about girls, but little boys and water balloons are a perfect match. It involves violence, throwing things, water, and making a mess all in one package. And they’re cheap!

Want to be the coolest mom on the block? Here’s the plan:

Buy a lot of water balloons. Start filling them up before guests arrive.

Fill a cooler with juice boxes or put a jug of water outside for kids to help themselves. You don’t want to be running in and out of the house during the fight. (Well, maybe you want to, but the importance of supervision cannot be overstated.)

Lay a thick towel on the floor for kids to walk on when they do need to go into the house and use the restroom. (And, for goodness sakes, don’t sweep or mop the floor before the kids come over. Do this after they’re gone.)

Set ground rules. No water balloons to the face is a good one.

And here’s my favorite tip. During our last water balloon fight, towards the end, I had the boys pick up the scraps of water balloons all over the yard by “charging” for the new ones. So, bring me ten popped balloons and get one full one. When we were fifteen minutes from the end, that number jumped to twenty.

And it worked.

As moms, we all want our kids to just help because they want to and jump in and say, “Wow, Mrs. Llama. You’ve worked really hard and I’m so grateful. Let me help you with that.” But they never will. (At least not at my house.) And so we teach the kids to help. That’s part of having a fun day—cleaning up at the end.

By the time the kids left, the water balloons were picked up. The yard was a muddy mess, but that’s another issue entirely. And as a wise friend once asked me, “Are you raising children or are you raising lawns?”

Someday, my lawn will look great. And I'll be sitting in the backyard sipping iced tea, remembering all the fun afternoons I spent with my boys. Having water balloon fights.

If you're looking for more fun household tips, check out We are that Family for more great Works for me Wednesday tips!

because there's never a good time...

We weren’t planning to have a party today. The kids were with a sitter this morning while I ran around getting ready for a writer’s conference later this week. (Write-to-Publish, anyone?)

But I was home this afternoon, and told the boys they could each invite a friend over to play. We left a few messages, and as the kids began calling back, another friend called wondering what A. was up to, and so it goes. When it was all said and done, we had a backyard full of boys, about 400 water balloons, a cooler full of juice boxes, and a whole lot of laughter.

What a blast.

As I sat at my station filling up water balloons, I thought of all the things I could be doing if all these kids weren’t over—dishes, laundry, washing the floor—and I found myself grateful for an excuse to just sit outside and enjoy the kids.

Besides, after an afternoon of running in and out to the bathroom, the floor would just get muddier anyway. And the kids sure don’t care. They’re just grateful for a place to hang out and play.

It wasn’t on the agenda today—invite half the neighborhood over and make a muddy mess in the backyard—but I’m glad we did.

I hope and pray the boys’ friends will continue to feel comfortable and welcome in our home, and we can be the “hangout house” for many years to come!

What are you waiting for, Moms? You know you'll never be "caught up" on everything. Why not just stop and enjoy the kids, just for a few hours? It doesn't have to be perfect. Just be there. And if water is involved, trust me, they'll have a ball.

summer break

Today is our first day of summer vacation, and my boys would rather be in school.

They don’t want a break. They want to keep going. Even the promise of science summer camps and unlimited books at the library isn’t enough to persuade them.

They’d just rather be in school.

Ouch.

Lest you think I’m holding huge chore fests over here, let me set the record straight: I’m a fun mom, folks. We went bowling yesterday. We’ll host water balloon fights and sleepovers and go to the zoo. I’m fun, I’m fun…really I am!

We’ll balance all this fun out with chores and math facts, but mostly, we’ll hang out at the pool.

That’s just the way I roll.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad my kids enjoy school. And I’m trying not to take it personally that I’m more excited about summer break than they are.

Once I get past ME and my own insecurities, I can see this isn't about me at all. It's about them. The noisy boys are growing up. They have their own interests and friends and lives. This is a good thing. A healthy thing.

Do you savor summer break with your kids? I do. I figure I only have seven or eight left. Less than that when you consider how busy teenagers are.

Will my house be loud? Yeah. Will I get tired of washing wet beach towels and wiping up the muddy kitchen floor fifty thousand times every day? Yeah.

Will we create memories that the boys will remember forever? Yeah. Will I have the opportunity to teach them new things about life and the world and relationships? Yeah.

Will all the hard work be worth it?

Yeah.

missing out

I really wanted to give the kids ice cream cones tonight.

It was hot. 84 degrees to be exact. The kids were playing outside, running in the sprinkler and making our play structure into a “water slide.” It was the first real water play of the season, and all three boys were loving it.

I served dinner outside to my soggy boys, and thought to myself I’ll let them play a bit more, then give them ice cream cones before they come in for showers.

That was the plan anyway.

I cleared the dinner dishes and was taking out the garbage when it began.

“He pushed me!”

“He put water on my face!”

“Mom! He pushed me again!”

The fighting and bickering and rude talk continued, even after a warning. So in they went for showers. No ice cream cones tonight.

And I was disappointed. I really wanted to watch them enjoy the first drippy, all-over-their-tummies ice cream cone of the season. They never knew about the ice cream, so they weren’t disappointed. But I was. I wanted to bless them, but had to hold back because of their behavior.

I wonder how often God feels this way about me? If you follow this blog at all, you know I’m a big believer in grace. God doesn’t treat any of us as we deserve, but instead, lavishes grace on us, in spite of us.

And yet I’m sure there are times when He holds back His blessing, just waiting for me to give up my stubborn pride and stop bickering already so He can bless me. I'm sure there are times I've missed out because of my selfishness or arrogance or addictions.

And God just waits. He wants to bless us and He waits.

Thank goodness for ice-cream-cones-tomorrow kind of grace.

and that would surprise me because...?

I'm the mother of three boys. So I don't know why I was surprised to find this sitting on my kitchen counter recently...













Hmmm. Tupperware. And inside?



















Rocks. Of course. Who doesn't need a few tupperware containers full of rocks sitting on the counter?

man versus...park?

You know your kids watch too much "Man versus Wild" when you lock yourself out of your car and they immediately start looking for crickets and firewood.

I locked my keys in the van at the park, and you would have thought we were stranded in the middle of nowhere.

"So, we have one granola bar and no keys," B. said. Quickly adding, "I call it!"

He's got a sense of humor, that boy.

The noisy boys got right to work searching for crickets to make the cricket stew. When Llama Papa showed up to rescue us, the preschooler ran into his arms and said, "YOU SAVED US!"

From the doom of a suburban park.

And cricket stew.


"

Epi pens and intution

I joined the club today. The “Mom’s-who-carry-epi-pens-in-case-their-child-has-a-severe-allergic-reaction” club.

Not as fun as bunko.

Twin B. was hanging out with his grandma and grandpa when he started having an allergic reaction, presumably to a guinea pig they were babysitting.

By the time I got there, his face was red and splotchy, and his eyes were swelling. I started calling our doctor on my cell and threw B. in the van, thinking we’d drive the three minutes home and he’d have some Benadryl and be fine.

But while I was sitting at a stoplight, still waiting for the nurse to call me back, I looked in the rearview mirror and B’s eyes had swollen shut.

Yikes.

And without waiting to hear back from Katie, the nurse at our pediatric office, I knew what she would tell me.

Trust your instincts, mom.

I drove straight to the ER.

They gave him a shot of epi about 30 seconds after our arrival.

He’ll be fine. No doubt some allergy testing is in his future. Along with a few epi pens, just in case.

I’ll be fine, too.

Tomorrow.

spring break survival

I was planning to take the kids to the zoo today to celebrate the Official Beginning of Spring Break, but instead, half of us are on antibiotics for strep throat.

So…on to plan B!

We broke out the miniature marshmallows and toothpicks and did some building. This is a great “all ages” craft that doubles as a snack.





And, of course, the froot loop necklaces. Even though the noisy boys are in second grade, I can still get away with this craft since it’s for the preschooler.







And math worksheets. Lots and lots of math worksheets, which the noisy boys are asking for because during spring break, one neatly completed math worksheet = 10 minutes of media time.



















They can earn up to 2 hours of media per day.




















I realize that sounds like a ton of time, but it goes by in a blink when they sync up their DSi’s and enter the world of Mario.

those mothers

I became one of them today. One of those mothers. You know the ones. They’ve got kids hanging on the cart at the grocery store who are whiny and disrespectful and they snarl at their children to BE QUIET and STOP IT and FOR GOODNESS SAKE NOT RIGHT NOW.

It all started with an ill-timed trip to Target for Twin A. to pick up the New Super Mario Bros. with his birthday money. Never mind that it was almost time to start making dinner and—oh yeah—Twin B. is still grounded from his DSi. (I know, this trip sounds like a great idea, doesn’t it?)

Actually, the shopping itself was fine. We even picked out a birthday present for a friend’s party coming up. It was all good until the checkout aisle when the preschooler asked for a pack of gum.

And I said no.

(I know…the nerve.)

You see, we’d been grocery shopping earlier this morning and I had already bought him a pack of gum. I explained this to him, but three-year olds use about as much logic for their purchases as lizards, which is to say, none. So he escalated his request. “No, no, no, that gum is from ALDI. I want gum from TARGET.”

The tantrum was interspersed with a carefully rehearsed speech from Twin B. that maybe he could POSTPONE being grounded from his DSi until, you know, he got tired of playing with Twin A.'s new game.

Right.

And so it was that I found myself in the parking lot half dragging a crying preschooler screaming for gum and arguing with an eight-year old and yelling at everyone to just GET IN THE VAN when I noticed a young couple without kids holding hands and glancing my way, giving me the look. You know the look. The when-I-have-kids-I-will-never-ever-talk-to-them-that-way look. My children will always be polite and respectful and they will never beg for gum because I will teach them to behave better than that.

To which I can only say…yeah. Me too.

when things go wrong

Here’s a paradox: some of our happiest memories as a family are created when things go wrong. Is this true for you too?

Thankfully, we didn’t have any big problems on our recent trip to Disney…just the typical “stuff” that happens when you’re traveling. Here are a few of the highlights that we’re still laughing about:

Chicken. All I have to do is ask Twin A. if he wants some chicken and he busts up laughing. We were eating at Paradise Pier one night, and he ordered a “toddler” serving of macaroni and cheese—the only size they sold—and when he opened the box, there was a condiment-sized cup of macaroni in it. Like, three bites. Not even enough for our toddler.

We laughed, and the two of us walked over to the Chinese stand, where he ordered teriyake chicken and rice. The cashier asked if he wanted an adult portion or a child’s portion, and we wisely asked to see the difference in size. When the cashier held up a teeny tiny white box, A. started giggling. “The adult portion, please,” I said before busting out laughing. The two of us stood there and laughed until tears came out of our eyes.

And then—the story gets better—the chicken was really gross.

He ended up having some of the rice for dinner, and then eating a bowl of cereal back in the hotel room.

Did we pay a small fortune for strange food that never actually got eaten? Yes. But, oh the memory. We still laugh every time we hear the word, “chicken.”

And then there was Legoland in the rain. We bought bright yellow ponchos and celebrated that there were no lines for the rides. The boys huddled under a table at lunchtime and we all laughed at the absurdity of staying at the park in the rain. But we stayed and we laughed and we had a great day together.

Planning is an important part of vacationing with young children, but just as important, I believe, is the ability to be flexible. Things happen when you travel that you have absolutely no control of, and it’s important to be able to take them in stride.

Can you make the best of things and laugh together as a family when things don’t go according to plan? These are the stories your children will love to tell—the “remember when…” stories. They’ll remember the good times too, but the hard stuff—the time you ran out of clean underwear and had to wash it out in the sink—that’s what memories are made of.

Christmas magic

I didn’t think I’d really be able to pull it off, but I did.

Talk about a covert mission. I did all the planning during the day while the kids were at school, and on Christmas Eve, Llama Papa took the kids out while I packed.

On Christmas day we drove over to Grandma and Grandpa’s house—where Santa had left our gifts—and proceeded with Christmas as usual. Which is to say, loud chaotic joyful fun with the cousins while we ate cinnamon rolls and opened presents. I could hardly wait until the last one.

After all the packages were opened, Llama Papa left the room and came back with 3 more gift bags. We set up the video camera and waited while they opened their final gift—matching Mickey Mouse sweatshirts.

“We’re going to Disneyland!” I told them.

The boys just stared at me.

“Today! Our plane leaves today and we’ll be there for a week!”

“Oh,” Twin A. said, going back to his magnet building game.

“Boys! We’re going to Disneyland today!” I tried again.

They all smiled and nodded, but there was no shrieking or jumping up and down. Not quite the reaction I was hoping for, but looking back, I’m glad. Going to Disney without expectations is a good thing.

To be continued…

life lessons

“Dear God,” Twin A. prayed, “Please help *Susie…” He paused and turned to me, “I don’t know what to say.”

“I know. Me neither,” I told him. “But God knows how much you care about your friend. He hears you and understands your heart, even when you don’t know what to pray.”

As a mother, I want to have all of the answers for my children. When they hurt, I want to make it all better. But sometimes we can’t, and I believe the important thing in those moments is to teach them—show them—how to handle those moments when they come. Because they will come.

We can’t fix things for our neighbors, who are grieving the loss of a wonderful husband and father. But we can be a friend and build snow forts and play. We can make them a meal. We can make a donation. We can pray.

And in doing these things, we teach our children that people and relationships are important.

We’re holding each other tighter this Christmas season, savoring each moment. Because truly, none of us has any guarantee of tomorrow.

Enjoy your family. In the midst of the chaos and the errands and the wrapping, savor the moments when you’re together. Forget the mess and turn on some music. Dance. Hug.

We only get one life. Enjoy it to the fullest.

**name has been changed to protect privacy**

Thanksgiving humor

At the dinner table last night…
Llama Papa: “Boys, our house is really clean right now. We need to work together to keep it clean for Thanksgiving in two days.”
Twin A.: “We need to keep it clean for TWO WHOLE DAYS?”
Twin B.: “I think we should just leave.”

Recurring conversation with the preschooler…
The Preschooler: “Are we going to eat turkey on Thanksgiving?”
Me: “Yes.”
The Preschooler: “Is it already dead?”
Me: “Yes.”
The Preschooler: “So we’re going to eat a dead turkey?”
Me: “Well, we’ll cook it. But, yeah.”
The Preschooler: “Who killed him?”
Me: “Um. The turkey farmer I think. They call it butchering.”
The Preschooler: “Did it hurt his feelings?”

Yes, I fully expect that he’ll eat nothing but green beans and mashed potatoes tomorrow.

And my personal favorite, yesterday before naptime…
The Preschooler: “I made a card.”
Me: “Nice! What does it say?”
The Preschooler: “Dear God, thank you for making me.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! I’m beyond thankful for my house full of noisy boys. (Well, most of the time anyway!)

painting tips

Preschoolers love paint. Moms don't. It's messy and, well, it's messy.

I'm afraid I can't offer you much advice for making it less messy, but I DID repurpose an item destined for the garbage can into a cool paint holder.

Introducing, the camping egg carrier.


I bought this eons ago when it was just me and my husband darting off for a weekend of camping in California. Six eggs was plenty. Pancakes one morning, scrambled eggs the next...no problem. Enter three hungry boys. Now, six eggs don't get us through one morning. Last time I packed for a camping trip, I laughed at my tiny egg holder as I was putting an 18-count package of eggs into the cooler.

It's amazing how life changes.

Anyway, since our last camping trip, the egg holder has been floating around. The preschooler likes to carry things in it, so I let him play with it for awhile. I was just thinking it was time to toss it when the preschooler asked, "Can I paint today?"

Aha!

Introducing: our new paint tray. Perfect for a morning of messy painting!

time

There’s never enough of it. Like most of you reading this blog, I’m busy. Juggling three kids, a part-time job, a work-from-home editing gig, and finishing a novel has proven to be a bit much. And before you get too impressed, keep in mind that by “finishing a novel” I mean “spending a few hours editing and writing at some point every week.”

Since there’s never enough of it, I’m learning to make time for what’s really important to me. I try to carve out time each day for each of my kids. Sometimes it’s just ten minutes of one-on-one conversation at the end of the day, or a game of yahtzee or chess (I’m learning! And believe it or not, the kids are teaching me).

Last week, I was story mom in Twin B’s class, and I decided to surprise him and take him out for lunch before my volunteer shift. I dropped the preschooler off to play at a neighbor’s house and caught B. as he was waiting in line to go into the cafeteria. I hope I never forget the look on his face when I called his name and invited him out to lunch. His entire face lit up, and he just grinned as he followed me out to the van. We chatted over burgers at Wendy’s and he kept saying, “I just can’t stop saying thank you!”

It wasn’t just the burger he was thanking me for. It was the time. He knows I’m busy and have a million things I could be doing with an hour of free time. The fact that I was choosing to spend time with him—not because I have to, but because I want to—made a huge statement to him. You’re special. I enjoy you. You’re worth my time.

We all get 24 hours a day. How will you spend yours?