Beautiful

*Written several weeks ago


Just three weeks left.  

And with each grain of sand that drips through the hourglass, so goes another moment where I just don't feel like I've been productive enough.  I've rested my enlarged self on the couch and thought about the fans that need cleaning and the windows that show layers of grimy boy gunk that must be attacked with a chisel.  But thinking about it and writing lists is a pitiful substitute for the energy that is sorely needed to accomplish my goals. 

There are still so many meals to freeze, so much organizing to do, so many beautiful little pink clothes to put away (in a dresser we have yet to buy) and so many boys to bandage up, pick up, clean up and hurry up.  (Not to mention the husband who is busy building up our home office unit that I commissioned of him months ago with a deadline the same as my pregnancy.  The man can do anything EXCEPT build more time into our days.)

With all the hustle and bustle and worry about the upcoming arrival, I have to remember that there are three little boys that don't care about the fans spitting dust down on them.  They are about the business of finding beauty amongst the dirt and debris.  So I've taken a page from their book of life and come up with a few things of beauty to report....


Drew searches high and low for little trinkets to save for his new sister.  He found a purple plastic ring buried in the dirt, brought it all the way home from Colorado, cleaned it up and safely put it in his "treasure box" so that he could give it to his baby sister one day.  That ring is beautiful to me.  And so is the one that he chose from the dentist's prize box, foregoing all the cars and action figures, so that he could have another one for his sister's other finger.  

Look at me....being magnanimous and choosing to see the beauty and not the bill for the cavities that took us to the dentist in the first place.  (And the accompanying 45 minute the dentist-isn't here-yet-delay in the waiting room with all 3 boys.)

Owen continually dumps out little pink apparel (that are homeless without a dresser) all over my bed and floor so he can view each piece and say, "How cute!"  and "This one will be her favorite, I think!"  Another beautiful magnanimous moment where the excitement of a little boy is more important than the giant mess he left in his wake.


With all the beauty that I'm learning to see, I'm ashamed to admit the most difficult place for me to find it is in my reflection in the mirror.  The tired eyes, the enlarged ankles, and especially the MANY MANY extra pounds.  


Where is that altruistic spirit when I try and wiggle my way into my pants in the morning?


It is in the heart of my precocious two-year-old who reaches up to my puffy cheek with his grubby hand, looks me in the eye and says (with his signature raspy voice), "Mama, you boo-veal."  (Kai speak for "beautiful.")


For now, I'll take his word for it and work a little harder in my goal to find beauty everywhere. 

Date Night

*Written in June
 
We have been at each other's throats!  It is like I'm living in a perpetual political debate!  There have been raised voices, defiant looks, harsh words and unmet demands.  It seems like the stresses of everyday life have made us growl at each other instead of taking a deep breath and speaking kindly.  I've been dispensing punishments like candy to anyone who dares to look at me wrong.

The only solution was for me to go on a double date with them.  It always helps me remember why I like them.  (I would've taken Kai but I didn't want to continue the streak of raised voices.) 

So out we went to the boys' favorite "fancy" eatery, Chili's, where we dined on pizza, chips and salsa and colored on our menus.  And every date is not a date without the mandatory lecture:

  "How a Gentleman Treats a Lady (and other appropriate manners)."  

(If they've heard it once they've heard it a thousand times.)

1. Always escort your lady and don't walk her through a puddle.
2. No burping, tooting or laughing when something sounds like a toot.
3. Listen to the lady, even when she is talking about something other than a vehicle or explosion.
4. Open the door for the lady and let her enter first.  NO EXCEPTIONS!

After digesting the lecture, yet again, we were off to put our skills into action on a balmy summer night.  The conversation stayed mild and within the allowable topics.  Barely.  I was escorted by my gentlemen rather nicely until Owen decided to bolt ahead on the sidewalk.  That prompted another manners lecture:
  
    5. Never leave your lady in the dust.  She might be wearing heels.


As we approached the door, my gentlemen were poised and ready to do their job when a lone lady appeared and opened the door for herself.  With a puzzled look on his face, Owen watched the stranger open her own door and shrugged his shoulders and said to her and me:  

"I guess she's her own gentleman."

She sneered.  

I giggled.  

And I thanked my lucky stars that with 4 gentlemen to call my own, I'll never have to be "my own gentleman."