How The Story Goes

So, here's how it went down.
Well, it's how it always goes down.

Months ago, Children #1 and #2 discover that Pentatonix will be touring here.
Full freak out.
Lots of excitement.

When asked if they could go, I responded "I'm not paying for it."
Tickets were purchased with the promise of "I'll pay you back."

Present day-- no pay back.
Of course.
When will I ever get my act together.

But then the concert happens.
And they freak out again. Because it's so epic and awesome.

And I realize I can make demands.
You know, because I paid for the tickets, and all.

I demand a sister photo.

Worth every penny.

And I watch them as they talk about their night.
They are light and excitement and joy.

Again.
I'll pay it every time.

Dreams

Today we're going to talk dreams. Okay?

Because I had one. A dream. That's not really unusual. But here's what is-- I remembered it. I never remember my dreams. Ever. But this one? It was so epically important that it's now seared into my brain.

Before I tell you my dream, can we just pause here for a second so that I can tell you that my sister is a crazy dreamer. Like, off the hook crazy. When she was pregnant, almost all of her dreams were haunted by H.R. Puffinstuff (remember him?). He chased her everywhere. And me, being the goodly sister I am, tried forever to find a doll, an image, a poster, anything that I could send her to solidify her haunting.

Anywho. Here's my dream. I'm tempted to call it a prophecy. Maybe even a revelation. Ready?

I created a game that was instituted all across the world. Every Saturday, The Husband (and all the husbands across the world) would roll a dice. Whatever number it landed on was the number of hours he was required to do any task I required of him.

Let's repeat.
He had to do whatever I told him to do. No questions asked.

Bam. That's some genius.

So, what do you think? Whose game? We could all gather at my house and make super cute and crafty dice (and secretly every side would be the number 6). And then we can wrap them up real pretty and present them to our spouses. And then we can be all, like, "There's this new law. Roll the dice. Don't ask questions."

I'm thinking this could really be a thing. Maybe all the things forever more. I forsee only a slight hiccup. What if you don't have a husband? Never fear, I got your back. I'll gift one of my husband's hours to you. We can create a kind of rolling rotating system. That way, all the women in the huge world can get their way every Saturday. The more I write about this, the more excited I get. I say we do this!

I have another dream. But first, don't you love this sign? Child #1 drew it. Yes, I know you're jealous.

Here's my other dream-- I want to live in the country. Like, a farm house with land. Lots of land. And probably a few chickens. With a darling barn where I can craft and do puzzles.

I'm positive that country living would cure this constant ache that sits behind my eyes. The ache that screams, "There has got to be more to life than this." And it just seems to me that life is more ideal if you live on lots of land. And how bad can things be if you have these adorable chicks running around? When the children are annoying, I can just venture into the barn. You see what I'm saying?

And just to keep it real, The Husband grew up on a farm. A for legit, dairy farm. There's no way on this green earth he'll ever move to the country. He's a dream crusher, that's for sure.

What are you dreaming of lately? I really wanna know.
H.R. Puffinstuff?

I Take It All Back

Listen. Let's have a reality check. M'kay? You know all those words I sprinkled everywhere yesterday about beauty and spending time with a sick child? Yah. Today that's all crap. No more glamour. Let's just lay it all out. Having kids home for days in a row is torture of the finest degree. For the love.

It's day 3 of sickness. That's 3 days of me catering and entertaining and cleaning up after. That's 3 days of stuff I haven't been able to get done. A mother's patience can only last so long. Am I right? Geez. Let's be done with this routine, shall we?

If you're anything like me and near the end of your rope, I have some reading for you to do. Call it entertainment, distraction or excellent time management.

Because right now, at this very second, Child #3 is painting a piece of wood on the kitchen table. And before you ask, yes, I keep extra wood laying around in the garage. I'm that desperate for her to be busy with something. Anything! For the last hour she has begged me to make a giant gummy bear. Wood will have to suffice.

Read it and weep:

How to do a messy hair bun. This tutorial is awesome. I've tried it, and it works! Yes, my life has been reduced to watching hair tutorials. No big thang.

A Guide To Excusable Reasons For Early School Dismissal.
Flat out hilarious and on point. Print this letter and post it on your fridge. My sister sent me this link and it came and the perfect moment. Beware, there's cussing involved. It makes it all the richer.

And Here's Something I Want To Make. Except with the number 5. I'll let you know if I attempt it. I'm scrounging around for the energy to get to it.


Have a great weekend, friends.
May all your children remain healthy.
Say it with me....For the love.

Taking Time To Be Intentional

I'm a planner. A list maker. I am not spontaneous. Like, ever. I plot my week out days in advance. My brain is always thinking 5 steps ahead. Always.

And then a child gets sick.

Suddenly I have no plan. Well, the plan quickly turns into scraping all previous plans. You know? It's like everything falls away and you're home. Stuck in one spot with a singular focus.

And I realized today that having no plans really is it's own kind of beauty. I become more focused and intentional with all that I'm doing. Sure, I'm working like mad to keep the germs from spreading. But I'm present. All the way.

It forces me to look around and work with where I am and who I'm with. So naturally, we craft. Together.

Everything on the To-Do list is set aside, and I'm just with her. And she's with me. You just can't plan that kind of time. It's simply created and lived in. Maybe being spontaneous isn't so bad after all.


*If you have anyone home sick and feel like making your own Bunny Banner (we hung ours over the kitchen window), you can find the details here.

She Decorates Too

This girl of mine. This girl. Of mine.

Child #2 is an out-of-the-box thinker. Really, she's an out-of-the-box doer as well. She beats to her own drum, so to speak. For years I tried to figure out the rhythm to that beat. But, I couldn't. She marches a way all her own.

For so long, I tried to steer her back on course. To the path that I "thought" was the right one. She never budged from her side of the road. Not once. She has always held her ground and gone her own way. So, I've learned to come to her. To stand on her side and try to keep pace with the way she moves. I fail most of the time. But when I do get it right? The view she shares with me is spectacular.

We could all do with a little view change. Don't you think? To step out of the box we've created for ourselves. The one we qualify as "normal". And to look at life from a different angle. There is beauty to be found from all different sides. This daughter of mine teaches me that every single day. She gives me new eyes to see with. What a life changing way to be.

Last week she created a Disney mash up of characters. She found some patterns online and went to work. Without a word to anyone. She assembled and then hung them up along the mantel.

I came home from running errands to find this amazing display. I think I'll keep them up forever. They're just that awesome.

I gushed and fawned over her work. And she looked at me like I was rather crazy. She doesn't see how unique she is. I guess that's my job to point it out.

So, this is me. Pointing it out.
Kellie. You are an extraordinary gift.
Never, ever lose sight of the way you see the world.
You make my life magical.

Let's celebrate those we love that force us to view life with different eyes.

The Break- Day 5

The Rodeo.
No explanation needed.

Well, other than to say "Fried Oreos".
Geez, I could eat a million. OK, maybe half a million.

And yes, Twin #1 won that gigantic minion.
I didn't even help her. Seriously.
I totally gave her the "Don't be sad when you don't win anything." talk.
So duh. She landed the darn disk over the duck's neck.
I was floored. Her mom was thrilled with the size of the prize.
We named him Bob. (Even though Keagan's first choice was 'Fart Gun').

I promised, and swore, and made an oath that The Hooligans were NOT going around the carnival on their own. I said No to that request at least 34 times.

And guess what? I sent them off on their own.
You could eat their joy. It was that tangible.
I'm pretty sure I have a screw loose somewhere in my parenting brain.

But let's just review again. One more time for goodness.
Fried Oreos. (And a Snickers. And a Twinkie.)
Really.
There are no more words.

The Break- Days 2, 3 and 4

Sometimes I forget what I know. And then I spend countless days and hours with my kids, and it all comes flooding back to me.

In no particular order, here's what I remembered that I forgot. Make sense?

1. Child #1 is in DisneyWorld. She and her friend went for her Senior Trip/The Last Great Fun You'll Have Because You Have To Now Be A Grown Up. These 2 girls planned their trip and flights with only little help from their parents. And they've had the most magical time. They return home tonight. I've missed her terribly. And it's only been 3 days. College thoughts do not sit well with me.

2. Yesterday, Child #2 did a full demonstration of what I sound like on the phone. Well, what I sound like when I talk to everyone but my sister. "You try to sound all nice and sweet. Ya, that's so not you." Whatever. She doesn't know what she's talking about. Even if she had a hysterical fit of laughter when I tried defending my everyday sweetness. I think she may have even snorted. Crazy child.

3. My favorite little people are at my house. They had an epic stomach bug and we're banned from our residence for a week. Now they're back and my life feels right again.

4. Teenagers need naps. You know, because being upright for any lengthy period of time is exhausting. And when I say "upright", I mean "watching TV". Oh, and just this morning, Child #2 explained that it's normal for her to have an attitude when she speaks. "I was made this way. Maybe I have a disease. They'll research it and call it the Kellie Disease." Uh huh.

5. When push comes to shove, I can still take them down and force them to be crafty. I've got serious skills. You're bored? I'll make you mold clay into dishes. Don't even mess with me.

The Break- Day 1

Spring Break. {sigh}.....

It's solid rain. And normally, that would bum me out. It would prevent us from doing something fun. But now I have teenagers. And they're allergic to any fun that includes a parent. Which is so lame. Little do they realize that there are scads of people wanting to hang with me. They don't even know how good they've got it.

But over the weekend, "Someone" (if I put it in quotes it makes that person appear far more adorable than they really are) poured a bazillion of those little goober balls into the bathtub. Like, filled the thing right up. You know how they start out as a hard, little speck? And then you add water and they get 300 times their size? Well ya. Those are in my tub. What a darn fine harebrained idea that was.

I birthed geniuses.
That's all there is to it.

Here's to a week of finding creative ways to irritate my kids.
Man, this is going to be awesome.

Parenting Advice #246

Do you see the Baby Child? This is where she stands while she waits for the bus. Every single morning. She pops open the lock on the door to create a ledge for her ipad. That she's watching a show on. While she's texting her friends. And the door is open so she can hear the bus coming. It's a little crazy.

You should see her face when I try to talk to her. Wow. It's epic. It entertains me to no end. It never gets old. Truly. When I really want to rattle her, I just yank out her ear bud and then start talking. You know, like telling her how much I love her and stuff. That's when she gets really irritated. She's like this funky science experiment that I keep messing with to see all the ways I can agitate her. I'm such an awesome mom. No?

You wanna know what is an awesome mom? Those of us who spend hours and hours tracking down the assigned novel Child #1 needs for English. I'm not kidding you, I had to drive to Alaska to find the last existing copy. Straight up that makes me a rock star.

So, just from me to you. Bug your kids. Like, tons.
It just might be the last great beauty of being a parent.