Daughters

 

 My oldest daughter is thirteen, and I helped her get ready this morning. We both tend to be hibernating bears in our approach to the morning hustle, but she was already dressed and eager to get on the bus.  Today is her chorus field trip, and she was decked out in her formal dress: black, sequined and sweeping the floor.

 

She permitted me to pull back her hair into a clip and accepted my offer of large, faux diamond studs.  I dabbed an extra bit of concealer on her nose, shared an almost-dried out mascara wand, and dug around for my natural color stick, the one that will help her chapped lips.

 

We’ve tentatively brokered a new way of interacting with each other in the last few weeks.

 

This daughter, like any child, holds a unique place in our family dynamic.  Second born, oldest daughter.  Artistic, creative, independently minded.  Like one of my favorite chocolates—firm shell with a melting center.  She’s old enough to have some bruises from others and as a fully-fledged adolescent, surprisingly observant about the foibles of human nature.

 

Sarah is a separate entity from me.

 

It’s wonderful and leaves me vulnerable.

 

This young woman, my child; this one is my worry stone.

 

I fear she is the child that didn’t get the full measure of my adoration.

 

She is wedged between the complete immersion that comes with a firstborn and the caboose babies that received a bit more undivided attention from their mother.

 

She is my smack-dab in the middle of (near-crippling-but-don’t-exaggerate it-be-cool) postpartum anxiety and ignorance that my toddler son was not developing on track.

 

I have one core memory of Sarah as a baby.

 

She is on my lap, her full head of hair on end, and we are singing and laughing.  That is my default memory of her babyhood.

 

That year with two children under 2 was just hard.

 

Nothing earth shattering about it.  Fact.

 

Now, she is thirteen.  I’ve grown, too.  I joke that my bandwidth has stretched to the levels of Elastic-Girl from the animated movie The Incredibles.  I can make my body into a parachute and catch anyone and almost any disaster.

 

Last year stunk emotionally for our merry band of travelers.  It just did.  Puberty and autism are challenging and confusing and a bit sad in moments.

 

It’s a new year.

 

Life gonna life no matter what, but we have taken it in stride.

And I can see my kid.

 

Our quiet times together, usually before bed, have often been neglected or rushed in this new season.  But with some persistent chiseling, she’s shown me some of her cards.

 

I’ve gained a bit of relational capital.

 

And she let me fix her hair.

 

And I let her borrow my shoes.

 

And she’s not the 4-month-old on my lap any longer.

 

But we can still make each other laugh.

 

 

 

Julia Rose

Our family was blessed with a new member this year, and I want to jot these impressions down before my brain completely turns in its two week notice. I'm struggling to keep up with all the myriad details of family life, from silly things to when Red Ribbon week is, to cancelled appointments and which kind of soup I meant to order from Chinese takeout (Alex just buys me both kinds now because he is a smart man and values harmony).

We had a baby.  She is beautiful.  I cannot credit how I in the world I am fortunate enough to have each of my children and to have these stories to share.

After passing my due date with Julia, all my midwife had to do was gently remind me that going past 40 weeks might not be wise as someone of advanced maternal age and we scheduled an induction then and there for the next morning.  Throughout Julia's birth, Holly worked with me as a teammate to achieve a safe and peaceful birth for Julia.  With the end game being a safe delivery, our hope was to start labor with pitocin and then see if my body would continue contracting regularly to allow me to labor and deliver in a birthing tub.  Safety and common sense come first with both medical professional and mom, and I am so thankful that this gifted midwife took care of me and my child.

Being the good rule follower I am, I ate one last "my parents are taking us out and I'll never cook again" meal, and headed for home.   I diligently worked through the laundry stack before turning my attention to birth prep.

When labor started on its own with my older daughters, I furiously hung pictures in the nursery and dusted every surface in the house.  This time, folded laundry was the nesting impulse I obeyed.  

My midwife suggested using a breast pump to start contractions, so I threw on "Baby Mama" as a nod to my 2008 self just beginning in motherhood and fired up the pump.  I used it on and off most of the night, pausing for a 1 a.m. nap, but never got contractions going that would last consistently.  (My advice: go to sleep the night before an induction. Duh.)

I checked in the hospital at 4 and got back to my room about 6:30 a.m. as it turned out to be a busy morning for births.  I began the pitocin drip and employed the usual labor gambits: walk the corridor, sit on the bouncy ball, and my technique of choice: hug the headboard.  Since induction artificially begins contractions, instead of starting out 15 minutes apart and gradually coming closer, the contractions come much more quickly and intensely.  

This is wear the rubber meets the road in labor and where pain relief is needed.  As I hoped to deliver in the water, I needed a way to focus my mind to get through these intervals, so I quickly scanned my brain for a mantra.

As a child, I would recite hymns as I fell asleep to combat fear.  Without analyzing it at the time, I remembered the verse about God delivering his children "with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm."  These two phrases carried me through the next phase of labor.  I also asked Alex to turn on Christy Nockels' album Be Held: Lullabies for the the Beloved which encouraged me greatly.  One song in particular on the album speaks to me as a mother entitled "Always Remember to Never Forget".  

The part that makes me catch my breath:

It's just that this world is hollow 

And it wants to swallow

Any memory of who you really are

Always remember to never forget

When you look in the mirror, the answer is yes

Yes you are pure as gold, yes you are beautiful

So always remember to never forget

(Always remember to never forget)

I've never cried when my children have entered the world; I'm just so profoundly relieved and spent.  But this song and its message got me.

After a few hours of serious contractions, Holly asked me if I felt ready to get into the water.  I felt that I was and after one last tour of the hallways for grins, I was able to de-tether from the drip and get into the birth pool.

My midwife worked so hard to give me the birth experience I desired while problem-solving as the inflatable tub had punctured in the last delivery and the replacement had not arrived.  The top ring of the pool did not inflate and she was worried about the pool not being deep enough to fill, but she soldiered on and made it happen.  I think my complete obedience to any and all requests made by the medical staff and going quiet in labor ("entering my mind palace" as I joked to Alex later) worked in my favor.  

At this point, I noticed something special.  There were four medical professionals in the room: two L & D nurses, my midwife, and a resident on her ObGyn rotation.  All four sat around me as Holly coached (told) Alex to sit by my head and hold my hand.  Immediately as I sunk into the water, I relaxed with the warmth.  Nothing is a magic bullet in labor, but it was a welcome relief.  Several minutes passed quietly as the women all encouraged me.  I clutched Alex's arm within an inch of my life and Julia began her descent.  Holly instructed me to move my hand close to the birth canal (sorry, not sorry) to feel her head.  This is the most frightening and intimate moment of labor.  I was crying out in pain, face contorted.  I was instructed to push and did so.  At this point, I knew that moving to my knees to deliver would be optimal, but I was so tired from my movie and pump marathon, that I stayed in a reclined position (and got quite a sore back later).  I pushed again as the nurses audibly cheered me on and Julia's head emerged.  Holly guided her body out and with a "Julia, be born!" from me (I can be bossy, too) out she came.  

These moments, that first moment of being safely delivered, are what I've learned are called "thin places,"  a place where the veil between heaven and earth feel a bit thinner, and God's goodness and mercy are tangible.  The gift of being alive, and receiving a new life, are stark and palpable.

This is why humankind keeps moving forward.  These thin places.

I was able to spend several minutes in the water admiring my new baby, catching my breath and just flat out relieved.  I've joked that I would've loved an alien if it came out of my body, just as long as it did indeed come out.

Next comes that intimate medical stuff that I'll bypass, but where my sweet, nurturing midwife (who massaged my feet with scented lotion in labor-- seriously) was in total boss mode.

The cord was cut, baby began nursing, Mom got some clothes back on like a respectable citizen, and the rest of the family could be invited in to meet Julia.

Big brother and sisters wore their prescribed shirts and I gave the girls necklaces for our new sorority of four.

Five weeks of life have passed in a blur as they always do.  Julia is sleeping in her bouncer next to me, pitifully lovely with a full blown case of baby acne.

This time will pass before I want it to like it always does.  Too soon, I will do or say something to my new child that I'll regret wounds her.  There will be problems bigger than baby acne or spit up.  

But if I've learned anything, I'll keep watching for the thin places.

Welcome to the world, beautiful one.  Welcome, Julia.

2017, Gangnam Style

I won't even make a snide remark about how I've not written a thing since December 2106.   Life's full and writing hasn't been a priority.  But I stole a few hours away to go to Barre class (oh, I work out now, it's a whole thing, tra-la-la) and then on to use up a Kohl's card and redeem my Kohl's cash 'cause I'm a suburban lady and I OWN the Kohl's game.

So I did something for myself, by myself, and some funny thoughts surfaced and enough time has passed to soften the embarrassment factor...but you're gonna have to wait til the end of this post.

January:  HAMILTON!  HAMILTON!  HAMILTON!  Just you wait!  We saw the show and it was a masterpiece, full stop.  For all the clips I watched and times I listened to the Original Cast Album (yes, I'm a pseudo-theater snob it seems),  the show lived up to and surpassed the hype.  Seeing the the character interactions and nuances of the performance made the experience so much richer than listening alone.  If you enjoy musical theater, American history, or both,  I highly encourage you to catch the nearest show when the touring cast goes out this year.  At the end of the show, I felt the same sense of awe and reverence I feel after a stirring sermon or time of worship.   It was that good.

 We had a great weekend in NYC, visiting the 9/11 Memorial, trying some fun eateries including Tavern on the Green (charming), and I decided that I never again need to experience the authenticity of a subway station.  It's convenient and affordable, but so is Uber.  And Uber is much less likely to smell like urine.  I'm a snot and that's fine.  Also, being accosted every 10 paces in Times Square? Nah, I'm good.

February:  2 words: Ew skit!  The things we do to amuse ourselves and maybe make teenagers laugh so they'll listen to our stories and keep listening to the gospel.  (Yes, of course I wrote the script.  Of course I did the Running Man and almost feel off stage.  I'm a housewife with frustrated dreams of fame and glory. You know I'm all in for a skit.)




March-April   We signed the girls up for T-Ball (Rach) and Softball (Sarah).  Both girls are pretty good hitters, but less enthusiastic fielders.  Sarah mostly enjoys chewing her glove. while Rach proudly scoops up some balls near 3rd base.  (Is she the 3rd base catcher?  Is that the right term?)  Both kids get a full uniform, we get parent buttons and shirts, which really is the whole point at this age.  J's league did not get off the ground this spring; hopefully, Mom can make the stars align and get the girls' dance and a potential gym class for him on the same night, in the same part of town.  Stranger things have happened.

http://shop.malynlogic.com

Over Spring Break, we visited my sister and brother-in-law and their new baby, Emily!  It was a blast.  Lots of Instastories made that J replays daily, fun trips to museums and parks, and baby snuggles without the 18 year investment and life-long worry!

May:  Choir, Baseball, Ballet, and a Wedding.  Basically, I'm uploading a lot of my iPhone clips to increase my chances with "the cloud" and bookmark potential graduation and wedding video material.  I like to be organized.  I have also watched some old clips  from a few years ago and I'm kicking myself that I have not uploaded every cute clip of their entire lives, oh-my-gosh-two-year-olds-are-precious-when-you-only-watch-a-30-second-clip-of-them-and-don't-do-diapers-anymore.  Anywho, Cat's In the Cradle and all that jazz.  WHY CAN'T BABIES GROW UP BUT ALSO ALLOW FOR TIME TRAVEL TO PLAY WITH THEM AGAIN WHEN THEY CAN'T PRONOUNCE WORDS PROPERLY?  (I know, grandkids. Still.)

Hang around for that long ago mentioned embarrassing story. It's after these video clips.

Sarah's Speaking Part in the Spring Musical

Rachel, The Motivational Coach with help from Shia LeBouf

Which brings me to that anecdote involving my brother-in-law's wedding and living life Gangnam style.  My brother-in-law, Brett, and his new wife, PN, were married last weekend, joining their Vietnamese and American cultures and families, which required two ceremonies.  The Vietnamese ceremony was in the morning, the traditional wedding ceremony that evening, and by 8:30 p.m., we were ready to chow down on some delicious food and giddy up on the dance floor.  After the first dances, the floor was opened to guests and Gangnam Style beckoned me.  Like a bullet from a gun,  I bolted my way to the happy couple, making the "ride 'em cowboy" hand motions and corresponding gallop.  I was high on life, in my mind every bit of the "Hey, Sexy Lady!" the song highlights.

And then I noticed my legs were wet.

And then I slowed my roll.

I did the awkward, "I've run out of moves" move.

I edged my way to the wall and found the ladies' room.

I dropped my used and abused Spanx in the trash and rejoined our table, well, commando.

For the first time in my adult life, ever, I was without proper underpinnings.

My husband knew the moment I left the dance floor what had occurred.

As I told a friend, I took away two life lessons:

Never leave home without spare underwear, and know your limits.

But you know what?  Sometimes you have to be foolish, whether just to yourself, or to a whole bunch of people on the Internet, because life's too short to take yourself so seriously all the time.

I wish I had the same boldness in all areas of my life that I do when I'm charging onto a dance floor, weak abdominal muscles from labor and all.

#yolo

Quarterly Creative Offering, Otherwise Known as a Christmas Letter

Hey you!  Thanks for stopping in and reading this sporadic blog.  Here's our family card and letter for 2016.  

Insight into my mind:

1. Read last year's post on family pictures.

2. Take this year's picture.

3. Buy Groupon for $17.99 for 40 picture cards.  Neglect offer for $27.99 for 70.   I am not as wealthy as Scrooge McDuck and have you bought 4 books of stamps lately?!  Plus, 70?  I wasn't Homecoming Queen, I never rushed a sorority, and I'm an introvert.

4. Mail letters to extended family and a few close friends.

5. Regret not buying the 70 cards to have extras on hand, run short, order a few prints from CVS, dig out real, folding style cards to send out a few last-minute glad tidings.  Hope that suffices.

The End.

(Love you, mean it.  Merry Christmas.)

The Twelve Tidbits From Our Year

12 approximate times I used our new elliptical machine.  That may average to about $60 a use.  NAILED IT. 

11 tactics the kids employ at bedtime for maximum sleep avoidance: 1) water 2) Jeopardy 3) YouTube funnies on our bed 4) visits from Mom and Dad bedside 5) prayers 6) “Will you stay with me till I fall asleep?”—which is both precious and guilt-inducing-- “Cat’s in the Cradle” anyone? 7) blanket retrieval 8) lovey retrieval 9) Storytime 10) deep thoughts and ways my feelings got hurt 6 months ago (a Sarah classic) 11) theological questions for the ages (“Does God poop?”).

“10 dollar founding father without a father…”  A lyric from the musical Hamilton in which I became engrossed this summer and subsequently became our around-town driving music.  I try to turn down the radio whenever a more colorful word is used, but I’m waiting for someone pick up on and test out one of those colorful terms.  Alex and I are going to see the musical on Broadway this coming January and we can’t wait!  I want to get the kids “Young, Scrappy, and Hungry” t-shirts (another lyric) and take an obnoxious number of pictures to blast on social media with references to the musical because I’m fun like that.  I’m not sure how I escaped the lure of a drama program in my formative years.

9 is the age Jeremiah will turn this coming May which baffles my comprehension greatly.  J is in second grade, is an avid plane enthusiast (he took his first commercial flight this year with Dad), is working hard on his reading and decoding words like a champ, and will eat 3 pounds of chips and salsa (his preferred meal) on nights we wait for his sisters to finish ballet class.  He is sly, funny, perceptive, and sweet.  A boy of hidden talents that surprises us daily.  Firstborn love of my mother’s heart.

8 The number of childhood fads that are new or resurrected by the toy manufacturers and Netflix that my girls are mildly obsessed with: My Little Ponies, The Trolls, Care Bears, Shopkins, Frozen (Forever and Ever, Amen), EverAfter High, Secret Life of Pets, and Strawberry Shortcake.  I could name at least 10 more, but you would be tempted to call Child Protective Services for all the mind-numbing animation to which we have exposed the children.  (We do try to keep the TV off. Sometimes.  And read. Or even go outside.  Honest.)  For all the silly fads that come and go, it’s been a treat to introduce the kids to the original Muppets movies, Hailey Mills classics such as Parent Trap and Summer Magic and The Christmas Story Movie (“You’ll shoot your eye out, kid.”) We read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe this summer and watched the movie.  The girls are still making connections to that story.

7 is the age Sarah turns this coming January and her party was planned the second we blew out the candles on her 6^th birthday “Barbie and the Rockin’ Royals” cake.  Sarah is our cruise director, natural leader and extrovert.  She’s the kid glue.  As an introvert, it’s funny to navigate a child who just wants to meet everyone and invite them to do things! Sarah is a first grader and is involved with dance, STEAM club, and church choir.  When I’m in her school to eat lunch or volunteer, it seems everyone is Sarah’s buddy.  Sarah and her sister fight like cats and dogs, but she is also quick to comfort J or Rachel when they are hurt or sad.  She has a sensitive spirit and became a baptized believer in Jesus this May.  It is a privilege to guide her in faith, one I daily struggle to model well, but strive to make the focus of our family life.

6 The number of times I drive at minimum each weekday on Highway 96, a state road that takes me to the kid’s schools, our favored Chick Fil A, and off-shoots me to Sonic, Dad’s office, church, or Target.  I have a hard time not taking this exit any time I’m on the interstate.  I’d like a sash and tiara to wear as “Mrs. Highway 96” as I sit perched on the rolled down top of a Mustang convertible to collect my progeny and wave to all the parents in the carpool lane as they scroll on their phones.  I think it would add a bit of panache to the whole affair.

5 My baby will be 5 in 2017.  FIVE.  Rachel is a force of joy.  Sassy, mischievous, sharp, and a total Mama’s girl.  She’s a clown and has a “I-hate-waking-up-on-your-terms-but-love-my-preschool-once-I’m-there” lifestyle.  She will create a booty-shaking performance at the drop of a hat, but to my chagrin, also feels perfectly justified in lashing out at her dear mother during times of discipline with the stinging jab, “You’re a stupid butthead.”  I take full responsibility for her believing she is the most beautiful, capable human in existence and ask for your prayers that she does not one day end up as a contestant on ABC’s “The Bachelor”.  #MamaTried

4 weeks of the Whole 30 plan.  For all my kidding around, I took a month to eat in a very limited diet of protein and vegetables with no processed carbohydrates or milk products. (DAIRY. No dairy!)  I did it and liked it and felt great.  It taught me some good basic principles for healthy cooking and eating that I’d like to continue to work towards. 

3 rooms painted.  We are not big DIYers, but took a weekend to paint the girls rooms a “Plie Pink” in keeping with the theme of being new dance students.  It turned out beautifully and inspired a Great Fall Throw Out All the Junk in the Closets movement that made me preen just a bit in my homemaking skills.

2 new states visited.   We took an extended family road trip this summer with Alex’s Mom, Dad and Grandma to visit the Creation Museum in Kentucky, The Cincinnati Zoo and Waterpark and visit with longtime friends from his Grandma’s childhood in Ohio.  The kids did a great job on such a long car ride and really enjoyed all the sights. 

1 new member to be added to our extended family.  My sister Natalie and her husband James are expecting their first child, a daughter, this coming March.  The whole family is buoyed with excitement this Christmas as we visit with the parents-to-be and look forward to this most desired blessing in the Mead family.  The kids talk about “Aunt Natie’s baby” almost daily and we are planning to visit the family of three in Texas during the week of Spring Break.  There’s so much good in store in 2017!

We sincerely hope you have a joyful Christmas with moments of wonder and peace.  Thank you for being in our lives. 

Love,

Alex, Melissa, Jeremiah, Sarah, and Rachel

Poor Neglected Blog...

C'mere, let me pay you some attention.

It's September... I'm driving my taxi (#MinivanMafia) e'ry morning and dropping off Rachel at her 3 morning preschool which is a learning lab at the high school.  She protests daily, but greets me with "Don't look in my bag!  It's a surprise!" when I pick her up.  Sarah and J are doing well and J is even shadowing in Sarah's classroom for 30 minutes at the end of the day.  We're all bopping along, doing dance and choir; we just finished our first long read-aloud of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe  (not without a lot of redirection and silliness) this weekend and watched the movie.  I've got the girls hooked and we've started Prince Caspian.  I'd highly recommend a re-read and/or re-watch of this series.  I caught a few new allusions that delighted me.

It occurs to me that after 9 years of being out the of professional world I have filled my inner life with great books, blogs, podcasts and music as I can't seem to stop myself from recommending a new informational avenue to any live human with whom I get the pleasure of having a conversation.

I'm also jogging (more than once!) and eating like a sensible person.  (Baby steps.)

I'll drop in a few recent favorites to add some substance to this brief missive.


 Outlander by Diana Galbaldon (also a Starz series--adult content warning)

Author  Liane Moriarty who recently released Truly, Madly, Guilty

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend series on CW (season 1 on Netflix-- hilarious genre-bending musical comedy, also adults only)

The Popcast Newsletter (with long read links)


And I'd be remiss not to include this nugget:





Have a good one!