Hocus Pocus

An entire day devoted to the celebration of sugar. I truly can't think of anything more splendid.


I only have one child left who will actually dress up. Good thing I consider these twins mine. Now I can take credit for their deliciously cute costumes. I think they may be sweeter than all the candy I'm going to eat in the next 12 hours.

Happy Treat Day.

Pumpkin Guts

Every year I scoop out the pumpkin guts, and I promise myself that I will never carve again. But then the next year rolls around, and I somehow convince myself that all good, sweet mothers carve pumpkins with their kids.


But the reality is so much messier and disgusting all at once. Kinda like sticking your hand up inside the raw turkey. And that my friends, is where I draw the line. There are places where you just shouldn't stick your hand. A turkey falls on the far side of the line. Pumpkins are coming close enough to touch it.

Without fail, everyone gets bored within 3.7 minutes of starting. So, I finish the carving and the cleaning. The 'happy-family-carving-pumpkins' turns into 'this-is-a-huge-mess-that-mom-cleans-up'.

This year, the twins made it all the more exciting. Keagan kept constantly exclaiming, "Eww, sick!" My thoughts exactly. Next year, I swear I'm not carving. I'm just not. I'm going to outsource it to someone in India. Let me know if you want me to send yours as well. I'm keeping a list.

Heavy

Meet the newest member of our family. She belongs to Sam. She had to carry her everywhere for days. I let her know that my social calendar was packed. Thus, I was unavailable to babysit. She took this flour baby to church, school and even a party.

You know what disturbed Sam the most? My first guess would be the fact that her baby is square. But no, she was bothered that she had to use two different colors of pantyhose for her arms and legs. Therefore, they didn't match.

At the close of her project, I asked her, "So, what did you learn from carrying around a baby for 5 days?" Her response, "Flour is heavy."

If only being a parent were that easy....

Stiched Up

Can you tell that the face painting booth was her favorite? I made her scrub it off before she went to sleep. She was none too happy.

Addendum to my previous post-- my sister found this same 11 yr. old shaving her arms last night. Her arms! When asked why she would do such a thing, she replied, "everyone does". I took a poll right then and there. Not a single, solitary person in the house shaved their arms. Nor could any of us think of anyone we have ever known in our entire lives, who shaved their arms. She was not swayed by our discussion. Good glory.

All The Ways I Fail

It's the little things. They seem to pile on top of one another, forming mounds. They appear at the most random of times, reminding me that I can't seem to do my job right.

Last night, the 11 yr. old propped her leg up on the counter. She wanted me to look at the red, bumpy rash on her legs. I leaned in to examine and asked her, "Did you just shave your legs?" She replied that she had. I then asked, "Did you use soap?" She stared at me like I spoke a foreign language. "Soap?" she said. "Why would I use soap?"

I stopped and turned my full attention to her. "How do you normally shave your legs?" Apparently she uses a razor. And nothing else. What? How is it that I haven't taught this girl how to shave her legs? I know I've taught someone. I'm pretty sure I've done it twice. Obviously I wasn't clear in my explanation.

Out of the 365 days in the year, I feel like I've got it all together on about 5 of them. Maybe 6. There are just too many little things that make me realize I'm probably doing more harm than good. Shaving without soap? Where did that even come from? Probably the same place where she learned to burp the alphabet. Right here at home. Obviously, here at the Circus, there is just a bit of a learning curve.

2 Of 40

For 1 Of 40, see here.

I'm a list girl. My entire daily existence centers around getting things done on my list. The one I keep in my head and the one I actually put pen to paper. During the day, I rarely sit down or watch TV. It's how I roll. After 7:00 pm, I do nothing. Except read. I really like doing nothing. I just can't find a way to do it all day long.

Addie asks me every other day to come to school and eat lunch with her. As soon as she asks, the thoughts in my head spin through all the things I need to accomplish that day, and I tell her that I just can't make it.
But my mother heart feels weighed with guilt. Can I eat lunch with her every day? Of course not. But she is my child and she has asked to spend time with me. So I feel guilt when I tell her 'no'. Because really, how much longer will she want to have lunch with her mom?


So, this week, when the question arose, just like it always does, I did the opposite of what I would normally do. I said, 'yes'. She bounced with happiness and immediately dictated her happy meal order.

All throughout the morning, and even on my drive to pick up McDonald's, I cycled the list in my head. I couldn't let go of all the things I could be getting done. I couldn't seem to focus on what I should be doing.

But then we sat together at the lunch table. She chewed and talked, and went on and on with stories. I watched her. Really watched her. And, you know what happened? The list in my head faded away. It was just her and I having lunch. Simple, unadorned, important.

Sometimes the greatest moments are found when we listen to our heart when it speaks. Most often it is so quiet, we drown it out with the voice in our head. Maybe my list needs a new item: Listen with your heart, not your head. Check.

Keeping Pace

The Cross Country season has come to a close. The District Meet was held over the weekend. We screamed and cheered. She took 5th, which is immensely impressive.

The next day she was laying on the floor and I asked her, "Now that the season is over, what have you learned?" I had imagined that she would tell me that running for fun isn't really fun. Or, that doing any physical activity that produces sweat, isn't any fun either. But instead, she surprised me. She said, "I learned that I need to keep my pace."

Her words have stuck with me. In essence, isn't that what we are all trying to do? Keep our pace? Most of the time I feel like my pace is too fast, I can't seem to keep up. But, if I look at it from a running perspective, aren't I the one who sets my pace to begin with? I'm trying to live at a runners speed, when I'm really a walk-around-the-park kind of girl.

Maybe our pace changes at different seasons in our lives. But, I have to think that we tend to speed it up without really needing to. Things fall through the cracks when my pace is at a frantic level. Until now, I've never really absorbed the thought that I am the ultimate time keeper. I am the one who needs to keep a watchful eye on the course. Never letting the finish line goal blur out all the of the race that precedes it.

Thank you for teaching me, my Samantha. May you ever 'keep your pace' headed in the right direction.