The End of an Era

Remember all the way back to the summer when I decided to deep clean every nook and cranny of my house? Well...summer's over, and I only managed the first 2 levels; the basement is still looming. In the crunch of back to school and after school, I have been putting off this final frontier for as long as possible, but this week I decided it's time to assault the mother-lode of mess, the big cahuna of clutter...that's right...the playroom. (Day 3...still no end in sight.) It's a good thing my kids are back in school because this has proven a great time to go through all the toys and get rid of the things that are broken or outgrown. For the most part this has filled me with unbridled glee (I have 3 garbage bags of toys sitting in my garage...shh, don't tell the kids!) but there have been a few partings that have caused me pangs of unexpected angst.

Like these guys.

These battle-worn veterans have rescued many a suffering pony, have opposed evil rivals in a war against freedom and won, and oh yes...have enjoyed several delightful tea parties. I'm sorry to see them go, but their box on the shelf is beginning to collect dust. They long to be in action, not sitting in a cubby, swapping stories of their glory days.

So, we will send them off to some other child's playroom where they can aid and assist and earn the name of "Rescue Hero" once more. Good luck guys; I almost think I could shed a tear over you.

And then there's these.

It hurts to think that there are no little boys interested in lining you up, motoring you around, and leaving you in exactly the right place so that everyone will trip on you. My heart aches when I realize that just 2 years ago Isaac could tell you the name of every truck in the Big Book of Trucks. Now he's more interested in pokemon. Au revoir, old friends.

This one feels like true sacrilege!

Cory grew up with the Hardy Boys, and I never intended to let these pass on, but Zachary and I tried reading one together and found they are so old-fashioned as to become almost incomprehensible. They use phrases like "stout chum" and "Hessian mercenary." They have been in the family for a while though, so it's hard to let them go...for now I am just boxing them up and saving them for my mother-in-law who might never forgive me if they end up in a rummage sale somewhere.

All of this sadness, I guess is just the result of a physical reminder that my kids are growing up.

And no, I'm not doing this to avoid actually working on the playroom...I just thought a proper eulogy would help me move on.

Things I Never Thought I'd Be an Expert At

I remember when I started college and took my first course list in hand to register for my first semester. It was such an exciting book of possibilities! I had already decided to major in Elementary Education, but there were so many classes I could take on the way to that final degree. I felt in total control of my future and the path of my own personal knowledge.

Now that I'm a lot older, and a little bit wiser, I find myself reflecting on the direction my knowledge and expertise have gone. (Well, maybe "expertise" is pushing it...) I have become "expert"--or a little more skilled-- in areas I never would have imagined. As it turns out, I didn't have as much control of this as I thought...life started happening and I started learning things out of necessity instead of what sounded good on a course list. The 18-year-old imagined a resume with items like, "curriculum design, conversational Italian, or classroom management." My real life resume is so far different, but strangely every bit as exciting as my imagination.

So here are some areas where I have gained if not "expert" status, at least a step above the amateur ranks.

Diaper Changing. Four children, and 10 years of bottom wiping have definitely elevated me to mastership of this particular challenge. I can change diapers in a car, in a gas station bathroom, on a beach, on an airplane, on my lap, with one hand, even with my eyes closed. I can make a 3 second determination on the number of wipes a particular change will use, and I know every trick to avoiding an open-diaper-accident. Although in the last year and a half I have retired from this particular field, it's akin to riding a bicycle...this knowledge is going with me to the grave.

Running. If you had told my college self that this would one day become my passion I would have laughed in your face. I don't do running. But now I live for it! I use words like fartlek, recovery time, weight-bearing cardio exercise, and bib in the proper context. My 4-year-old daughter was eating breakfast one morning when I got back from a run and nonchalantly asked, "How many miles did you do?" We live and breathe distance training in this household. I have recently come down with an overuse injury called trochanteric bursitis in my hip that has sidelined my running for the next couple of months as I recover, and I quite literally spent an entire day crying over the news. (Just ask my poor husband.) Now don't get me wrong, I love being a mother, but one of the things I love the most about running is that it's an identity I have that is completely unrelated to being a mom.

Trochanteric Bursitis.

ADHD. This is not a field that I have ever had any aspirations to become expert in, even as an educator. It has taken a long time to get through the denial, anger, and frustration phases of dealing with this, but I feel like I'm going to make it now. When I was pregnant with Zachary, I was finishing up my last semester at BYU, and taking a class called "Human Exceptionality." Every chapter dealt with a different syndrome, disability, or other special need. Every week I would read a chapter and then fret over whether or not my unborn baby was afflicted with that particular challenge. What if my baby has autism? What if my baby has down syndrome? etc. Strangely enough, I didn't have those same concerns when I read the chapter on ADHD. I don't know why I somehow thought my child would be less prone to this particular problem. Who knew? I'm still not an expert on this, but if knowledge is power, then I am doing my calisthenics every day by reading, researching, and taking district classes. I don't want to be an expert on this misunderstood disorder, but I do want to be an expert on raising a son who can overcome his challenges. I want to be such an expert at advocating his rights in a classroom that other moms of children with ADHD will ask me for advice. I want to be an expert on communicating with coaches, teachers, leaders, peers, and especially my son about what ADHD does and does not mean. I didn't choose this area of understanding, but I want to pursue it with my whole heart and energy.

Doing Disneyland with 4 children. I swear one day I'm going to write a book on this one...we have got the system figured out. Of course it doesn't hurt that I happen to love running and that usually Cory and I are the ones dragging our children half asleep by the end of the night. I took my sister to Disneyland with us once, and by the end of the second day she said, "Cami, I swear I am walking as fast as I can and I can NOT keep up with you. I feel sorry for your kids!" If you ever want to know how to make the most of stroller passes and fast passes...give me a call!

Anyway, I guess that's enough of waxing philosophic for one day. Still, it makes me wonder what special areas of knowledge are in store for my future. I also find myself wondering what Cory or my kids would consider as their field of expertise. Oh, and it also makes me wonder how many times anyone has ever used the words "expertise" or "wonder" in one post. Hmmm.

Blog Envy

The more I dive into this cyber-world, the more I begin to enjoy it. It has been a treat to reconnect with old friends...a surreal experience to suddenly flash forward 15 years into their lives. I am writing again in a semi-meaningful way for the first time since, well, college. I find myself thinking about language and finding the funny side of family disasters because wouldn't that make a really great blog entry? Wait...let me go find my camera. This is an honest way to communicate with my friends and family about my ups and downs without running up an astronomical phone bill...and yet it's completely controlled and manipulated at the same time. I honestly wish I could devote more time to my site, but have tried to take a disciplined approach so I don't lose track of the time I live in the real world. I have been amazed at how big the blogosphere really is...there is a whole civilization right under my nose that I never knew existed even a few months ago. But there is a dark side to this new hobby that I have discovered lurking in obscure corners. It's Othello's green-eyed monster of jealousy.

As I visit more and more sites and smile at anecdotes or funny photos, the more I want my own pathetic and stunted web page to hide. Everyone, it seems, is full of engaging and witty dialogue; who knew there were so many undiscovered authors in the world? And the photography on some sites seems much more than amateur...maybe I shouldn't waste my money on family portraits...I should just ask one of my blogging friends to take pictures for me. Some sites are techno-fantastic which makes me feel like the girl in the computer lab who is taking the tutorial on how to use a "mouse." I find myself coveting backgrounds, layouts, applications, and oh such CUTE ideas! But don't worry. It's nothing serious. Thank you all you wonderful bloggers for inspiring me to think bigger even if right now I'm at a place where I'm barely maintaining my humble little corner of the universe.

We have a Ballerina!?!

As a mother of 3 boys, you begin to adjust to certain routines and expectations. You understand that you may actually have to say the words, "Yes, you have to change your underwear every day!" more than once. You become an expert on Newton's lesser known law of inertia: An object at rest will be put in motion as soon as one of my children enters the room. And although you may not ever really understand it, you resign yourself to the need your children have to tackle each other on sight. So when we brought this sweet little pink and white infant home 4 years ago, I assumed she would be a tomboy ready to roll with the roughest of them. Who knew she would turn out to be such a girl?

So she has rejected the world of organized sports for now and embraced her inner grace and, well, diva-hood. We can't wait to see what she does this December in the Children's Nutcracker Ballet.
But lest you worry that she is too much a priss...Anna has also lately taken to training on our furniture for "Ninja Warrior."